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PORTRAITS

ILLUSTRIOUS PERSONAGES.

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PORTRAITS

ILLUSTRIOUS PERSONAGES

BIOGRAPHICAL AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS OP THEIR
LIVES AN1) ACTIONS.

BY

EDMUND LODGE, ESQ., P.S.A.

CABINET EDITION.

IN BIGHT VOLUMES.— VOL. II.

LONDON :
WILLIAM SMITH, 113, FLEET STREET.

LONDON :
BtlADBURT AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIAI

JUN7

CONTENTS OF VOLUME II.

1. MARY, QUEEN OP ENGLAND . . . Holbein 1558

From the Collection of the Most Noble the Marquit of
Exeter, at Burghley House .

2. WILLIAM, FIRST LORD PAOET . . . Holbein 1563

From the Collection of the Most Nolle the Marquis of
Anglesea, at Beaudesert.

3. EDWARD, FIRST LORD NORTH 1564

From the Collection of the Right Honourable the Earl of
Guildford, at Wroxton Alley.

4. HENRY STUART, LORD DARNLEY, KING OF SCOTLAND. 1567

From the Original, in the Collection of the late Earl of
Seaf oi-th, at Bralian Castle

5. JAMES STUART, EARL OF MURRAY, REGENT OF

SCOTLAND 1570

From the Collection at Holy rood Palace, Edinburgh.

6. JOHN KNOX • . . 1572

From the Original, in Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh.

7. THOMAS HOWARD, FOURTH DUKE OF NORFOLK . 1572

From the Collection of his Grace the Duke of Norfolk,
at Arundel Castle.

CONTENTS.

8. WILLIAM J'OWLKTT, MAHQUIS OF WINCHESTKU

Holbein 1".72

From the Collection of his Grace the Duke of Northum-
berland, at Northumberland Howe.

9. SIR WILLIAM MAITLAND, OF LETHINGTON . . 1573

From the Collection of the Right Honourable the Earl of
Lauderdak, at Tkirlestane Castle.

10. JAMES HAMILTON, EARL OF ARRAN, DUKE OF CHA-

TELHERAULT Ketel 1574

From the Collection of His Grace the Duke of Hamilton,
at Hamilton Palace.

11. MATTHEW PARKER, ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY . 1575

From the Collection of His Grace Hie Archbishop of
Canterbury, at Lambeth Palace.

12. WALTER DEVEREUX, EARL OF ESSEX . . .1576

From the Collection of the Right Honourabk Lord
JBagot, at Blythfield.

13. SIR NICHOLAS BACON .... Zucchero 1579

From the Colkction of His Grace the Duke of Bedford,
at Woburn Abbey.

14. SIR THOMAS GRESHAM .... Holbein 1579
From the Colkction in Mercer's Hall, London.

15. HENRY FITZALAN, EARL OF ARUNDEL . Holbein 1580

From the Collection of the Most Noble the Marquis of
Bath, at Longleat.

16. JAMES DOUGLAS, EARL OP MORTON . . . .1581

From the Collection of the Right Honourable the Earl of
Morton, at Dalmahoy.

CONTKNT*.

17, THOMAS KAIM i.vri i:, KAKI. <u STSSKX Sir A. More. 158.';
Front the Collection of Wm. Raddy/e, Esq.

in. KDWARD CLINTON, EARL OF LINCOLN . . Ketel 1584

h" i-i,ni tht Collection of His Grace the Duke of Bedford,
at Wobum Abbey.

1!). SIR PHILIP SIDNEY .... Sir A. More 1586

From the Collection of His Grace the Duke of Bedford,
at Woburn Abbey.

•J<|. MARY STUART, QUEEN OF SCOTLAND . . . 1587

From the Collection of the Right Honourable the Earl
of Morton, at Dalrnahoy.

21. ROBERT DUDLEY, EARL OF LEICESTER . . . 1588

From the Collection of the Most Noble the Marquis of
Salisbury, at Hatfield.

'22. AMBROSE DUDLEY, EARL OF WARWICK . . . 1590

From, the Collection of the Most Noble the Marquis of
Salisbury, at Hatfield.

23. SIR FRANCIS WALSINGHAM 1590

From the Collection of His Grace the Duke of Dorset, at
Knowle.

24. SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON .... Ketel 1591

From the Collection of the Right Honourable Viscount
Dillon, at Ditchley.

25. CARDINAL ALLEN 1594

From the Collection of Browne Mostyn, Esq., at Kid-
di>if/ton.

CONTENTS.

26. SIR FRANCIS DRAKE 1595

From the Collection of the Most Noble t?ce Marquis of
Lothian, at Newbattle Abbey.

27. PHILIP HOWARD, EARL OF ARUNDEL . Zucchero 1595
From the Collection of His Grace the Duke of Norfolk,

at Norfolk House.

28. JOHN, FIRST LORD MAITLAND, OF THIRLESTANE . 1595

From the Collection of the Right Honourable the Earl of
Lauderdale, at Thirlestane Castle.

29. WILLIAM CECIL, LORD BURGHLEY . . M. Gerard 1598

From the Collection of the Most Noble the Marquis of
Exeter, at Burghley House.

30. ROBERT DEVEREUX, EARL OF ESSEX . ffUliard 1601

From the Collection of the Right Honourable the Ecu I
of Verulam, at Gorhambury.

QUEEN MARY.

THE history of this Princess, who, it is scarcely necessary
to say, was the daughter of Henry the Eighth by Catherine
of Arragon, and his first-born child, lies within a very narrow
compass. Her reign was short, and undistinguished by any
remarkable feature, either of the state policy or military for-
tune, from which the fame of Monarchs is usually derived.
Her private life was yet more barren of circumstance, and so
her character has remained wholly unknown to us. Could it
then have been unfair or rash to conclude, to use a common
but homely phrase, that she had no character at all 1 Surely
we might have reasonably argued that had she possessed any
one remarkable quality of mind, or shone in any acquired
accomplishment, the facts could scarcely have been concealed
from us ; that the deserts of princes never want recorders ;
and that her friends and partizans, who then covered more
than half the face of Europe, had, in addition to all ordinary
motives to celebrate her, the powerful incentive of a party
spirit the most active and heated, because it was founded in
religious zeal. Nor could it have been answered to those
remarks that their opponents, who at least equalled them in
fury, would certainly not have omitted to publish to the world
her deficiencies, for the rejoinder was ready — that doubtless
they would, had they been able, but that to them she was
unknown and inaccessible. To all this might be fairly added
that a living author, of the Catholic Faith, who to every other
merit of an historian adds that of perfect candour, inferen-

2 QUEEN MARY.

tially admits the justice of this supposed view of her by
confining his report of her qualifications to the remarks that
" she understood the Italian, and spoke the French and
Spanish languages, knew the Latin, and played well on the
lute and monochord," without at all adverting to her natural
talents. These negative presumptions against her, which, in
combination, have always had on my mind and on those
of most others the effect of proof, have been in a moment
dispersed and overthrown by two documents in the very
recent publication of " Original Letters " from the British
Museum. It is on such evidence only that the truth of
history becomes undeniable.

Since the death of her father, incessant efforts had been
made, in the name of the young Edward, to induce her to the
Protestant profession. It was at length determined to deal
sternly with her, and on the twenty-eighth of August, 1551,
she having some days before addressed to her brother a
letter of denial, perhaps in all respects the best epistolary
relique extant of the age and land in which she lived, three
Privy Counsellors, with the Chancellor Rich at their head,
waited on her at her House of Copthall in Essex, once more
to argue with her, and, if she continued refractory, to signify
to her the King's resolution to prohibit the Mass in her
family, and to dismiss her priests, as he had already such of
the lay officers of her household as had refused to conform.
We have, in the very curious collection in question, not only
the letter just now alluded to, but the narrative composed by
those ministers, at great length, and with minute exactness,
of their conversation with her, for the inspection of the King
in Council on their return ; a conversation in which, alone
and unaided, she had to contend with three experienced
statesmen on a subject of all others the most important
in her estimation to her present welfare, and to her future
hopes.

They commenced by delivering to her a letter from her
brother, which she knelt to receive, and kissed. " I kiss it,"

QUEEN MART. 3

said she, " for the honour of the King's Majesty's hand, and
not for the matter contained in it, for that I take to proceed
not from his Majesty, but from you his Council." On
silently reading it, struck, as it should seem, by some par-
ticular passage, she remarked sarcastically, as if to herself,
" Ah ! good Mr. Cecil took much pains here." On the
Chancellor's beginning to open their instructions, she desired
him to be short, " for," said she, " I am not well at ease, and
I will make you a short answer." He proceeded to apprize
her of the privations to which it was intended to subject her,
and was about to inform her who were the counsellors present
when the resolutions to this effect were made; but she
stopped him short, saying, " I care not for any rehearsal of
their names. I know you all to be of one sort therein."
Then, having warmly declared her utter obedience and sub-
mision to the King, saving her conscience, she added " when
the King's Majesty shall come to such years that he may be
able to judge these things himself, his Majesty shall find me
ready to obey his orders in religion ; but now, in these years,
although he, good sweet King, have more knowledge than
any other of his years, yet it is not possible that he can be a
judge of these things : for if ships were to be sent to the seas,
or any other thing to be done touching the policy and govern-
ment of the realm, I am sure you would not think his High-
ness yet able to consider what were to be done, and much
less can he in these years discern what is fit in matters of
divinity." After much more conversation on minor points,
in which she used the same caution and vivacity in her
replies, the Chancellor turned the discourse on the Emperor,
to whom she insisted that a promise had been given for her
freedom in religion, of which she cited particular proofs,
which being controvered by Rich, she became warm, and said,
" I have the Emperor's hand testifying that this promise was
made, which I believe better than all you of the Council ;
and though you esteem little the Emperor, yet should you
show more favour to me for my father's sake, who made the

B2

4 QUEEN MARY.

more part of you almost of nothing." They then proposed
to send some one to supply the place of Sir Robert Rochester,
the comptroller of her household, and one of the officers of
whom they had deprived her ; but she answered that she
would appoint her own officers, and if any such man were
left there, she would " go out of her gates," for they two
would not dwell in one house. She soon after left them,
having first, again on her knees, delivered to the Chancellor
a ring for Edward, and they proceeded to give several strict
orders to her chaplains, and others about her, and, when in
the court, on their departure, Mary called them to a window,
and desired them to procure the return of her comptroller ;
" for," said she, " since his departing I take the accounts
myself of my expenses, and have learned how many loaves
of bread be made of a bushel of wheat ; and I wis my father
and my mother never brought me up with baking and
brewing ; and, to be plain with you, I am weary of mine
office ; and therefore if my Lords will send mine officer
home, they will do me pleasure ; otherwise, if they will
send him to prison, I beshrew him if he go not to it mer-
rily, and with a good will ; and I pray God to send you to
do well in your souls and bodies too, for some of you have
but weak bodies."

Having meant to give incontrovertible proof that the powers
of her mind and understanding were of no ordinary class, I
forbear to insert the letter which preceded this conversation,
because it is possible, even probable, that she might have
been largely assisted in the composition of it, or even that it
might have been wholly the work of another pen. It is
needless to observe that verbal communication admits of no
such doubt, and for the genuineness of the Chancellor's nar-
rative, we have the books of the Privy Council, in which the
original is recorded. It is then ascertained that Mary pos-
sessed prudence, presence of mind, quickness of apprehension,
acute feelings, and an undaunted courage ; and that she
joined to them extensive powers of expression, and a lofty

QUEEN MARY. 5

sense of the dignity of her station. What then, when her
persecution had ceased, and she had mounted an almost
absolute throne, intervened to arrest the exercise of those
faculties ; to render the whole of her reign inglorious, and
even insignificant ; and herself, were it not for one lament-
able class of exceptions, a cypher in history ? Simply an
attachment to the faith in which her mother had sedulously
bred her, so constant, so ardent, so exclusive, as to engross
every passion and sentiment, and to cast an impervious veil
over her true character. But I have perhaps dwelt too long
on this discussion. It is at all events time to glance at the
most important pails of the story of her public life.

Mary's reign, historically speaking, commenced on the
death of her brother, Edward, on the sixth of July, 1553,
but, as the shadow of ephemeral authority which had been
forced on Jane Grey, by her father and Dudley, Duke of
Northumberland, and the circumstances which produced its
rise and fall, have been so lately and largely treated of in
the Memoirs respectively appropriated in this work to those
three eminent persons, it will perhaps be better to refer the
reader to those Memoirs than to trouble him with an imper-
fect repetition of the substance of them in this place. Those
great events occupied scarcely a month, at the end of which,
Mary triumphantly entered London, and may be said to have
mounted the throne. She had made no secret of her inten-
tion to restore the ancient religion, and the nation therefore,
however chagrined, was not disappointed when they saw the
Catholic Prelates, the chief of whom had been long prisoners,
not only restored to freedom, but to their respective sees.
Of these, Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, a man whose
character has been so disguised amidst the furious contention
of parties as to leave us nothing certain but that he possessed
consummate sagacity, was appointed to the custody of the
Great Seal, and chosen by the Queen as her most con-
fidential minister. In the mean time she regulated her con-
duct in all matters of high importance by the advice of her

6 QUEEN MARY.

near kinsman the Emperor Charles the Fifth, to whose
interference on her behalf she had been much indebted during
her late sufferings, and who now granted his good offices with
increased alacrity in furtherance of a view which he had
conceived of obtaining her hand for his son Philip of Spain.
Mary, from policy, as well as dislike to her sister Elizabeth,
had resolved, and from the hour of her accession declared,
her resolution to marry. On whom she should fix her choice
had been already the subject of frequent deliberation in her
Council. Several foreign Princes had been proposed, and, of
her countrymen, Cardinal Pole, who it happened had not
been debarred by priest's orders, and the son of the attainted
Marquis of Exeter, the young Edward Courtenay, whom on
her arrival in London, she had created Earl of Devonshire,
and towards whom she had long manifested an evident par-
tiality. Pole was rejected on the score of his too advanced
age, and Courtenay is said to have lost her favour through
the irregularity of his private life. Previously to these discus-
sions she had secretly solicited the opinion of the Emperor
on this important question, and before they had terminated,
received his answer, recommending his son, whom she agreed
to accept. He advised her also to proceed in the restoration
of the old religion with cautious and gentle steps, but here
unhappily she was less compliant.

She had however hitherto done no very material public
act to that effect, though the reformers had imprudently
offered her a pretext by assaulting in the pulpit one of her
chaplains who narrowly escaped with his life. This for-
bearance however was but of short duration. Six bishops
were thrown into prison for impugning the revived Church,
and among them the Primate Cranmer, and Ridley, both of
whom it is true had added to that offence their earnest endea-
vours in favour of the title of Jane Grey. The Princess
Elizabeth, on whose firmness in the reformed faith the Pro-
testants had built their best hopes, now affected to abandon
it, and was received into the regal favour. The meeting of

QUEEN MARY. 7

Mary's first Parliament was distinguished by the celebration
of high Mass before both Houses ; their addresses were filled
with acknowledgments of the Queen's piety, and their first
enactments were an unanimous declaration of the Queen's
legitimacy ; the annulment of the divorce of her father and
mother ; and a bill for the resumption of divine service as
used at the time of the death of Henry the Eighth. The
marriage of priests was again declared unlawful, and a
visitation appointed to enforce the prescribed mode of wor-
ship. The return to the church of Rome might therefore be
now esteemed nearly complete in all but the acknowledgment
of the Pope's supremacy, a faculty less likely to be so readily
conceded either by Prince or people. In the mean time the
negotiations for the royal marriage proceeded slowly, and
were encountered at every step by adversaries, foreign as
well as domestic. The English, in their dread of the rule of
of a stranger Prince, forgot for a while their religious dissen-
sions, and many of Mary's most zealous friends, even in her
Council, with Gardiner at their head, strongly opposed the
match, while Henry the Second of France, the inveterate
rival of the Emperor, used the most subtle agents to intrigue
against it in London. The House of Commons voted an
address, beseeching her to prefer an English consort, but her
determination was unalterable, and it is even said, that on
the same evening she sent secretly for the Imperial Ambas-
sador into her private oratory, and in his presence affianced
herself to Philip at the foot of the Altar. Shortly after, she
dissolved the Parliament.

The public annunciation of the marriage, which soon fol-
lowed, was the signal for that extensive, but ill planned and
worse executed enterprise known by the name of Wyat's
insurrection. Whether it was undertaken with Elizabeth's
knowledge is one among many mysterious questions which it
involved, and which will probably never be satisfactorily
answered. Certain, however, it is, that she was suspected,
imprisoned, and closely questioned on it, and that the Queen

8 QUEEN MARY.

thenceforward withdrew from her almost all appearance of
kindness. She is said to have been spared from a public
trial at the intercession of Gardiner.

A Parliament was now called, which proved less com-
plaisant than its predecessor. It ratified without scruple the
treaty for the Queen's marriage, but rejected almost all other
measures proposed by the ministers, among which were bills
for enabling the Queen to dispose of the Crown by her will ;
for the revival of the dreaded Six Articles ; and of the ancient
laws against the Lollards. Mary therefore dissolved it at the
end of one month, and prepared with much anxiety for the
arrival of her consort, who, after long and apparently unne-
cessary delays, arrived, and was received by her with a fond-
ness which it soon became evident was irksome to him. He
was presently followed by Pole, in the character of Legate ;
another Parliament was assembled ; and now the reconcilia-
tion to the See of Rome was consummated by a number of
laws, the most important of which was for the restoration to
the Pope of the ecclesiastical supremacy. It had been con-
templated even to re-invest the Church with the estates of
which it had been deprived by the Reformation, and the pro-
posal would have been made to this Parliament but for the
prudence of Gardiner.

The Queen seemed now nearly to have attained to the
height of her wishes, and, to crown her satisfaction, imagined
herself to be pregnant. Her consort, if deficient in genuine
tenderness, used at present towards her that scrupulous
attention which in highly bred persons so nearly resembles it
that only the most refined sentiment can make the distinction.
He had successfully courted popularity by several acts of
beneficence, in particular by procuring the release of Eliza-
beth from confinement, and the prejudices against him seemed
to wear gradually away. Mary, however, was not yet con-
tent. She had the misfortune to live in an age when the
cruel punishment of offenders against any mode of faith which
had acquired a distinct denomination seems to have been

QUEEN MART. 9

considered by the professors of that faith as a religious duty,
for all agreed in inflicting it. Her temper, too, which is said
not to have been of the best, was perhaps somewhat disposed
to revenge, and the reformers had not spared provocation.
She unhappily determined to put into execution some penal
laws with which her new Parliament had lately armed her.
Of her two chief counsellors in ecclesiastical affairs, Pole is
said to have dissuaded Gardiner to have urged her forward.
A persecution, truly so called, of the Protestants ensued, from
the detail of which, as it is perhaps more generally known
than that of any other prominent part of our history, I wholly
forbear, observing only that in its progress two hundred and
seventy-seven persons of various ranks, among whom five
were bishops, are reckoned to have perished at the stake, not
to mention multitudes who were punished by fine, imprison-
ment, or confiscation.

Mary's supposed pregnancy now proved to be no more than
a manifestation of disease, and her consequent vexation was
aggravated by the immediate departure for Flanders of Philip,
whom she had for some months past with difficulty persuaded
to remain with her till after her expected delivery. Her
affection for him was so extravagant that it seemed but to
increase in proportion to his growing indifference, of which
she had now frequent proofs. The celebrated resignation of
his father at this precise period had made him the most
powerful and wealthy monarch in Europe, but, instead of
imparting to her any share of his advantages, he suffered her
to fall into necessities, and to disgrace herself by acts of
rapacity for relief. He refused or neglected her most trifling
requests, and seldom deigned even the courtesy of replying
to her fond letters. The death of Gardiner, not long after
Philip left her, filled up the measure of her chagrin, and she
fell into a deep melancholy. She had however still strength
of mind enough to struggle faintly against it. She plunged
into public business : made many requests of the commons,
which were either refused, or granted only in part ; and dis-

10 QUEEN MARY.

solved another Parliament. She re-established and endowed
several religious houses ; and devoted herself with increased
earnestness to the restoration of her religion. A plot to
depose her, and to place Elizabeth on the throne, was now
discovered, and two of the conspirators were officers of the
household of the Princess. Elizabeth, once more in danger,
was again saved by the interference of Philip, to whom,
since the recent marriage of the Dauphin to Mary Queen of
Scots, who stood next to her in succession to the English
Crown, her life had become peculiarly valuable. The King
of France, who had included Mary in his hatred to Spain,
was discovered to have been privy to this conspiracy, as well
as to various schemes by Mary's self-banished Protestant
subjects, for surprising some of the English garrisons on the
French coast, and to a late impotent invasion by them on
the coast of Yorkshire. Philip, long desirous to chastise him,
took the advantage of his consort's irritation at these injuries
to persuade her to join him in a war against France, and for
that purpose made her once more a visit, which she had been
long vainly soliciting.

Mary and her Council readily agreed to the proposal. A
powerful English fleet presently ranged itself on the French
coast, and seven thousand men, under the command of the
Earl of Pembroke, were despatched to join Philip's army,
which in the very opening of the campaign, gained the signal
victory of St. Quentin, where the celebrated old Constable de
Montmorency, who commanded in chief, and many other of
the prime nobility of France, fell into the hands of the con-
querors. This event was so unexpected, and, on many ac-
counts, so important, that the news was received at Paris not
only with deep regret, but even with terror. Great exertions
were made to prepare that capital itself for an attack, and
the King despatched orders to the Duke of Guise to return
instantly from Italy, with the army which he commanded
there. He came, and exacted from Mary a heavy retribution
indeed for the share which she had taken in the infliction ,of

QUEEN MARY. 11

the late disgrace on his country. By a series of artifices,
planned and executed with the most profound military skill
of his time, he enabled himself to appear most unexpectedly
before Calais, while a number of ships which were cruising
on the coast, apparently for the purpose of watching the
motions of the English at sea, collected together at an
appointed time, and attacked it on that side. Military his-
tory has few examples of a surprise at once so sudden and so
successful ; and thus was lost to England in eight days, in
the depth of winter, that important fortress, with its valuable
dependencies, which she had held for two centuries, not less
to the gratification of her national pride than to the service of
her public interests.

Mary, who had been long afflicted with dropsy, was gradu-
ally sinking when this sad event happened. It afflicted her
most severely, and is said to have hastened her dissolution.
This report, however, probably arose from the well-known
observation which she uttered on her death-bed, that if her
breast were opened, the word " Calais " would be found
written on her heart, for she survived till the seventeenth
of November, 1558, ten months after the occurrence of the
misfortune.

W01LQJA1M, IFBRST L©KU<

1503,

WILLIAM, FIRST LORD PAGET.

THE character of this eminent statesman was drawn, about
sixty years after his death, by a writer who sometimes sacri-
ficed the sacred veracity of biography to his love of that
forcible and terse method of expression in which he excelled,
and whom therefore I never quote, unless his assertions can
be supported by the genuine evidence of history. " His
education," says Lloyd, " was better than his birth, his
knowledge higher than his education, his parts above his
knowledge, and his experience beyond his parts. A general
learning furnished him for travel, and travel seasoned him
for employment. His masterpiece was an inward observation
of other men, and an exact knowledge of himself. His ad-
dress was with state, yet insinuating ; his discourse free, but
weighed ; his apprehension quick, but stayed ; his ready and
present mind keeping its pauses of thoughts and expressions
even with the occasion and the emergency ; neither was his
carriage more stiff and uncompliant than his soul." The
eulogist -might have added, without hazard of contradiction,
that a more faithful and honest minister never existed.

He owed nothing to the influence either of ancestry or
wealth, but sprang from a very private family in Stafford-
shire, from whence his father, a native of Wednesbury, in
that county, migrated to London, and obtained there the
office of Serjeant at Mace in the corporation. William, his
eldest son, the subject of this memoir, was born in that city
in 1506, and commenced his education in St. Paul's school,
under the celebrated Lilly, from whence he was removed to

14 WILLIAM, FIRST LORD PAGET.

Trinity Hall, in Cambridge. At this early period of his life,
the foundation of his future eminence was laid. By some
means, long since forgotten, he became known to Gardiner,
Bishop of Winchester, perhaps not only the first scholar, as
well as the most acute statesman of his time, hut a zealous
cultivator also of those more elegant branches of literature
which were then little professed in England. He was
received into the family of that prelate, and, after, a time,
sent under his auspices to complete his education in the
University of Paris, from whence he returned again into the
Bishop's house. Bred under the wing of Gardiner, it is not
strange that he should have contracted a strong attachment
to the ancient faith of his country. He practised it, under
all the extraordinary varieties of its fortune which distin-
guished his time, with inflexible constancy, but with a mild-
ness and moderation towards its opponents which marked
the goodness of his heart.

In 1530, then but at the age of twenty-four, the King,
doubtless through the recommendation of Gardiner, sent him
into France, to collect the opinions of the most learned and
experienced jurists of that kingdom on the great question of
the proposed divorce, and rewarded him on his return with
the appointment of a Clerk of the Signet, which was after-
wards confirmed to him for his life. He seems to have been
no otherwise employed till 1537, when he was despatched
with great privacy, into Germany, to foment the discord
which then subsisted between the Emperor and the Protestant
Princes, and to endeavour to persuade them to refer their
differences to the mediation of Henry, and the King of
France. In 1541 the offices of Clerk of the Privy Council,
and Clerk of the Signet, were conferred on him, as was soon
after that of Clerk of the Parliament for life ; in the fol-
lowing year he was sent ambassador into France ; and in
1543, in which year he was knighted, was appointed one of
the two principal Secretaries of State. His distinguished
skill, however, in foreign diplomacy confined him chiefly to

WILLIAM, FIRST LORD PAGET. 15

that line of public service during the remainder of Henry's
reign. In the summer of 1545 he negotiated, in concert with
the Chancellor Wriothesley, and the Duke of Suffolk, the
terms of the marriage of the Princess Margaret to Matthew
Stuart, Earl of Lenox, and many other important matters
relative to Scotland, and was soon after joined in com-
mission with the Earl of Hertford to manage that treaty
with France, which for the time was rendered fruitless by
the French King's positive demand of the restitution of
Boulogne. In the succeeding June, however, the peace was
concluded, chiefly under his direction. Henry, who sur-
vived that important act but for a few months, appointed Sir
William Paget an executor to his Will, and one of the council
to his minor successor.

The strict intimacy and confidence in which he had long
lived with the Earl of Hertford, uncle to the young King,
and now Protector of him, and of the realm, opened to him a
new channel of favour. He was chosen a Knight of the
Garter on Edward's accession, and soon after resigned his
office of Secretary of State, and was appointed comptroller of
the Royal Household, and Chancellor of the Duchy of Lan-
caster : a singular exchange, which we may probably ascribe
to the inconvenient interruptions to the duties of a Secretary
of State which must have arisen from his frequent nomina-
tion to foreign missions. He was in fact despatched within
very few months to the Emperor, in the character of Ambas-
sador Extraordinary, to persuade that Prince to join in an
alliance against France, and, though the negotiation wholly
failed, left that court with a splendour of general reputation
which perhaps no other foreign minister in any time has
enjoyed. Of this we have abundant proof in the letters of Sir
Philip Hoby, then resident Ambassador there, extracts from
which may be found in Strypes's Memorials ; and Lloyd, the
writer lately quoted, tells us that Charles " once cried, in a
rapture, that he deserved to be a king, as well as to represent
one ;" and, one day, as he came to court, " yonder is the man

16 WILLIAM, FIRST LORD PAGET.

I can deny nothing to." A short extract from one of his
letters to the Protector during his embassy, which is pre-
served in the Harleian MSS., while it lets us somewhat into
the character of his mind, seems to prove that he could not
have purchased much of his favour at the court of Brussels by
flattery. After having recited much at large some former
conferences with the Emperor's ministers, he says —

" The day following d'Arras, accompanied w' Monsr

St. Maurice, came to my lodging, and, albeit I was the day
before somewhat moved, yet, hoping thei had brought some
resolution, I quieted myself; and after salutac~ons, and wordes
of office, I beganne to give ear what they wolde say ; when
sodainly d'Arras, after a great circumstance, and many goodly
painted wordes, entred th' excuse of my longe abode here
w'out answere to my charge, wch he affirmed was occasioned
by th' Emp0'"' busines abowte the Prince's swearing in thies
townes ; and praied us therefore on his Mate'8 behalf, to take
pacience untill his coming to Brusselles, when, without faile,
he said I sholde be dispatched. Wch when I hearde, and
p~ceving, in steade of the resoluc~on and answer that I looked
for, to be only fed w' faire wordes, I must confesse unto yo'
Grace I colde not keepe pacience, but, being entred somewhat
into coler, answered him that I was now here at th' Empor'8
will and com~andme~t : He might stay me as long as it liked
him,anddispache me when he liste : But, qd I, were I once at
home, I knowe that neither the King's Matie wold sende me
hither, nor I, for my part, to wynne an hundreth thousande
crownes, come againe abowte eine like matter, considering
how coldly the same hitherto proceaded ; and suerly I am
sorie that either ye sholde judge me so voide of wit that I
colde not perceive whereunto this childishe excuse tendeth, or
occasion me to suppose you so much w'out considerac~on as to
thinke I colde be brought to beleave that the Prince's swear-
ing colde be eine' delay to the answering of thies things that
I am come hither for ; a matter easie inogh to be perceaved
of such as never had eine experience of the worlde, etc.

WILLIAM, FIRST LORD PAGET. 17

Hereunto d'Arras very coldly answered, that, in good faythe,
the cause of my staye, whatsoever I thought, was onely such
as he had shewed me, and therefore praied me not to conceive
any other opinion ; for I assure you, qd he, the Empor beareth
the King, his good brother, as muche affec~eon as if he were
his sonn, and wolde gladly ayde and assiste him in all things
to the uttermost that he maye conveniently : But, qd he,
thies matters are weightie, and require to be answered unto
w' deliberac~on. Yf thei seemed as weightie unto you as ye
speak, qd I, I cannot judge but ye wolde er this time have
spied out some time to answere unto them ; and, as for th'
Empor'8 assistance, my Mr requyrethe it not eine other waise
then shall appere to be requisite and beneficial for both
parties ; and therefore, if the occasion of this long dely be
uppon eine other considerac^on then ye have yet declared
unto us, I wolde wishe ye delte like frendes, and opened the
same frankely : and I knowe, qd I, that thies matters were
concluded before Mons' G.'s departure, wch maketh me more
to muse why ye sholde so long stay from making reaport of
yor answere," &c.

On his return from Brussels he was called by writ to the
House of Peers, by the title of Baron Paget, of Beaudesert, in
Staffordshire, and was immediately after appointed a com-
missioner to treat for the accommodation of new differences
which had arisen between England and France. But the
feud between the Protector and Dudley, Duke of Northum-
berland, which had long divided Edward's court and council,
had now risen to its height, and the former sunk under the
boldness and the artifice of his mighty adversary. Lord
Paget necessarily, for such was the custom of the time, shared
in the misfortune of his friend. He was committed to the
Fleet Prison on the twenty-first of October, 1551, and some
weeks after removed to the Tower, where he remained a
prisoner, without a cause assigned, for five months, at the
end of which he was divested of the Order of the Garter, on
the ground of insufficiency of blood ; charged with corruption
and embezzlement in his office of the Duchy ; and sentenced

18 WILLIAM, FIRST LORD PAGET.

in the Star-chamber to a fine of six thousand pounds. These
severities had no other object than to terrify the small rem-
nant of the Protector's party into obedience till the power of
the Duke of Northumberland should be firmly settled ; for in
December, 1552, Lord Paget obtained a general pardon, with
the exception only of debts to the King, which was inserted
but to save appearances, for it should seem that the fine with
which he had been most unjustly charged was almost wholly
remitted. It remained, however, to Mary to restore to him
the Garter, which was done with great ceremony, at a chapter
of the order held at St. James's, on the twenty-seventh of
September, 1553, six weeks after she mounted the throne ;
when it appears to have been for the first time admitted,
certainly to the honour of the order, that no objection on the
score of birth ought to be allowed to supersede the claims of
transcendent personal merit.

Mary, indeed, could not but have been prompted to favour
him, equally by her interests and her prejudices. He had
appeared among the first to assert her disputed title to the
throne, and had hastened to her presence to give her the earliest
notice of her having been proclaimed Queen in London. He
had been persecuted by her bitterest enemies, and was dis-
tinguished by the most stedfast adherence to that faith the
maintenance of which was unhappily the first object of her
life. She received him into her utmost confidence. He was
appointed to manage the treaty of her marriage with Philip of
Spain ; was sent Ambassador, immediately after, to the Emperor
his father, to agitate certain points tending to the re-estab-
lishment of the papal authority in England ; and, soon after
his return, was appointed Lord Privy Seal. Though a warm
advocate for the Spanish match, which indeed had been
chiefly planned by himself and his old friend Gardiner, he
entertained a becoming jealousy of Philip, and expressed it,
when necessary, with a bold and honourable frankness. That
Prince, who undoubtedly meditated by marrying Maiy to
make himself master of England, had applied to the Parlia-
ment, when she was supposed to be pregnant, for an act to

WILLIAM, FIRST LORD PAGET. 19

constitute him Regent till the child should be of age to
govern ; and proposed to give security for his surrender of the
Regency when that period might arrive. The motion, which
had been largely debated in the House of Peers, was likely to
be carried, when Lord Paget suddenly rose, and said, " Pray
who shall sue the King's bond ? " These few words changed
the temper of the House, and it was negatived.

On the accession of Elizabeth, he withdrew himself volun-
tarily from the public service. That Princess, says Camden,
" entertained an affection and value for him, though he was
a strict zealot of the Romish Church." After six years of
retirement, he died on the ninth of June, 1563, and was
buried, according to the direction of his will, at Drayton, in
Middlesex. Fuller, who is frequently incorrect, informs us
that he was very aged, but the inscription on a superb
monument erected to his memory in Lichfield Cathedral,
which was destroyed in the general wreck of the interior of
that church in the grand rebellion, states, according to a copy
preserved in the family of Hatton, that he died in his fiftieth
year.

Lord Paget married Anne, daughter and heir of Henry
Preston, a descendant of the house of Preston, of Preston in
Yorkshire, by whom he had four sons, and six daughters.
Henry, the eldest, died without issue, having only for five
years enjoyed his father's dignity and estates, which then
fell to Thomas, the second son, lineal ancestor of the present
Earl of Uxbridge. That nobleman, together with his next
brother, Charles, was deeply engaged in the cause of the
Queen of Scots, and was attainted in 1587, and restored by
James, immediately on his accession. Edward, the fourth
son, died young. For the daughters, Etheldreda was mar-
ried to Sir Christopher Allen ; Joan, to Sir Thomas Kitson ;
Anne, to Sir Henry Lee ; Eleanor, first to Jerome Palmer,
secondly to Sir Rowland Clerk ; Dorothy, to Thomas, a son
of Sir Henry Willoughby, of Wollaton, in Nottinghamshire ;
and Grizel, first to Sir Thomas Rivet, and then to Sir
William Waldegrave.

c2

W A

EDWARD, FIRST LORD NORTH.

EDWARD NORTH, the founder of a house in which it is
difficult to find a single individual undistinguished by wisdom
or wit, or stained by any memorable fault or error, was the
only son of Roger North, a younger brother of a respectable
family, which had seated itself in the reign of Edward the
fourth at Walkingham, in Nottinghamshire, by Christian,
daughter of Richard Warcup, of Sconington, in Kent, and
was born about the year 1496. He lost his father, who was
in some mercantile profession, and seems to nave been an
inhabitant of London, in 1509, and, probably because he was
too young to follow the same calling, was placed in a course
of studies to qualify him for the practice of the law, which
he finished at Peter-house in the University of Cambridge.
He soon acquired a considerable reputation at the bar, and
was appointed, while yet a very young man, advocate for the
city of London. It is very likely that his interest with that
corporation might have been forwarded by an Alderman of
the name of Wilkinson, who had married one of his sisters ;
and still more probable that he was first introduced to the
ministers of Henry the eighth by Thomas Burnet, Auditor of
the Exchequer, who was the husband of another. However
this might have been, it is certain that in 1531 he was made
one of the two joint Clerks of the Parliament, an office then
of such respectability that it was frequently held in that
reign by men of the first rank in public employment. Four
years afterwards he was called to the station of one of the

22 EDWARD, FIRST LORD NORTH.

King's Sergeants at law ; in 1541 resigned his clerkship of
the Parliament, and was appointed Treasurer of the Court of
Augmentations ; and in the following year was knighted, and
elected a representative for the county of Cambridge.

The Court of Augmentations was a temporary establishment
instituted upon the dissolution of religious houses, and was
so named from the augmentation of the income of the Crown
by the assumption of their property, of all matters concerned
in which it had the superintendence. The most consummate
integrity, and the most vigilant application, were requisite in
those who were to receive suddenly this enormous influx of
various wealth, and to methodise and direct a new system of
revenue. For the performance of these duties Henry chose
Sir Edward North, and in 1545 nominated him to the office
of Chancellor of that Court, jointly with Sir Richard Rich, on
whose resignation, a few months after, the sole jurisdiction
devolved on him. He was now called to the Privy Council,
and distinguished by a degree of favour and confidence
enjoyed by very few of Henry's servants in those years of
caprice and cruelty which closed that Prince's reign. Indeed
his character and temper seem to have well qualified him to
deal with the extravagances of such a master, for his prudence
was perhaps of the sort usually called worldly wisdom, and
his compliance approached to servility; but those faults
appear to have been the consequences rather of a timid than
a selfish disposition, since there is good reason to believe that
his public conduct was eminently disinterested, and his
honesty was not only unimpeached, but unsuspected. Had
his conscience been less nice, or his nature more daring, he
might have amassed immense wealth : he contented himself
however with the fair emoluments of his office, and with
grants, comparatively to no great amount, of abbey lands.
Henry left him a final token of esteem by appointing him one
of the executors of his will, and a counsellor to the infant
Edward.

In the short reign of that Prince, he remained a wary and

EDWARD, FIRST LORD NORTH. 23

passive observer of the party contests by which it was
agitated ; and when the King's death produced a crisis in
which no man of his degree could stand neuter, he espoused
the pretensions to the Crown which had been forced on the
unfortunate Jane Grey, and was one of the Privy Counsellors
who signed a letter to Mary, declaring their allegiance to her
unwilling rival. For some reason of policy, however, long
since forgotten, Mary, on her accession to the throne, not
only received him into her Privy Council, but on the seven-
teenth of February, 1553, 0. S. the first year of her reign,
summoned him to Parliament, by the title of Baron North of
Kirtling, now called Catlage, in the county of Cambridge,
which till that period he had continued to represent in the
House of Commons. In this and the following reigns we find
him also rather in the character of a courtier than a statesman.
That Elizabeth held him in some degree of favour is proved
by her having conferred on him, in her second year, the office
of Lord Lieutenant of Cambridgeshire, and the Isle of Ely,
but she employed him in no other public capacity.

He was now verging on old age, and in declining health.
On the twentieth of March, 1564, 0. S. he made his will, and
here, as in all the rest, left abundant proof of the caution
which seems to have been the leading feature of his character,
by the creation of an entail, equally remarkable, considering
the custom of his time in such matters, for its strictness and
extent ; for the terms in which it is expressed ; and for his
exhortations to his heir " to beware of pride, and prodigal
expences." The same spirit directed him in matrimonial
choice. His first wife, whom he married when a young
man, was the widow of two husbands, but very wealthy ;
Alice, daughter of Oliver Squyer, of Southby, in Hampshire,
who had been first married to Edward, son of Sir John
Myrffin, an Alderman of London, and, secondly, to John
Brigadin, of Southampton: His second, who survived him
till 1575, was even in her third widowhood; Margaret,
daughter of Richard Butler, of London ; who, as we are in-

w IE N IKY a T a.~.

HENRY STUART,

(LORD DARNLEY,)
KING OF SCOTLAND.

IT would be impertinent, especially in such a work as this,
to endeavour to treat the story of this weak and insignificant
young man's life with historical or political exactness. All
the public importance which belonged to him fell on him as
by reflexion, and, although he was the first cause of several
great events, he was an active instrument in none. Sud-
denly raised to an empty regal title by a passion which did
not deserve the name of love ; doted on, despised ; the
object at once of idolatry, and of fear and jealousy ; without
judgment to ward off the dangers with which the perverse-
ness of his fate surrounded him, and without temper to bear
the contempt to which the imbecility of his character exposed
him ; as he rose without merit, so he fell unpitied, and, but
for collateral circumstances, would have been long since
wholly forgotten.

He was of royal descent, and nearly enough related both to
Elizabeth and Mary to awaken and justify the caution and
vigilance of each. His father was Matthew Stuart, Earl of
Lennox ; his mother, Margaret, daughter to Archibald Douglas,
Earl of Angus, by Queen Margaret, sister of our Henry the
Eighth, who married that nobleman soon after the death of
her first husband, James the Fourth of Scotland. Lennox,
when a young man, had been compelled to take refuge in the
Court of Henry by the fury of the Hamilton faction, from

28 HENRY STUART (LORD DARXLEY),

whose head, the Duke of Chatelherault, he had attempted
to wrest the regency of Scotland in the early infancy of
Mary. The illustrious match which he made there, and the
distractions of his own country, where he was attainted, had
detained him for many years in England, and there his eldest
son, Henry, was born and educated. Elizabeth, on her acces-
sion, found this distinguished family quietly seated in her
dominions, and treated them with an urbanity and respect in
the motives to which her policy with regard to Scotland was
not overlooked. The prime object of that policy at the
period of which we are about to speak, was the prevention
of the marriage of Mary, and she pursued it with the dissi-
mulation and artifice which invariably marked her con-
duct towards that unhappy Princess. She affected to press
for it, even with anxiety, and, among those whom she pro-
posed to Mary, as worthy of her hand, was Lord Darnley,
for by that title, one of his father's, Henry was then desig-
nated.

Mary had long endeavoured, and very prudently, to gain
the friendship of the family of Lennox : she lent, therefore,
a willing ear to this recommendation. Lennox and his son
obtained Elizabeth's permission to visit Scotland, and in the
month of February, 1565, waited on Mary, then on a progress
in the shire of Fife, at Wemyss. She had never before seen
Darnley. He was in the twenty-first year of his age ; a pat-
tern of masculine beauty both in face and person, and ac-
complished to perfection in all the niceties of artificial polite-
ness. She beheld him in the instant with all the infatuation
of a doting lover; determined almost as suddenly to give
him her hand ; and presently intimated to her Court a reso-
lution of which her conduct towards the youthful stranger
had already in some measure apprised them. The match
however was delayed by various circumstances. Elizabeth
now opposed it even with fury ; despatched a mandate for
Darnley's instant return ; and chastised his disobedience to
it by seizing his father's English estates, and imprisoning his

KING OF SCOTLAND. 29

mother and brother, who had remained in London. The
most powerful among the protestant Peers of Scotland, at
her incitement, conspired to possess themselves by violence
of his person ; were discovered ; and fled into England before
a military force. It was necessary too to obtain the appro-
bation of the main body of the Scottish nobility, and some
time was lost in their deliberations, and much more in the
result of them — the sending to Rome for a dispensation, the
parties being within the prohibited degrees of kindred. These
obstacles however were finally removed, and on the twenty-
eighth or twenty-ninth of July they were married, and on
the following day publicly proclaimed, by the styles of Henry
and Maiy, King and Queen of Scotland.

Mary, deeply enamoured as she was, could not have been
wholly insensible of Darnley's defects. It is even possible
that the very contemplation of them increased her anxiety
to hasten her marriage. Determined at all events to possess
him, she dreaded perhaps that himself might prevent it by
some act of folly or violence too gross to admit of extenuation,
and suffered herself to be deluded by the excess of her pas-
sion into the vanity of believing that her influence in the
joint relations of a Queen, a wife, and a lover, might in
future restrain such excesses. He had already fallen into
serious errors. Several of the prime nobility had been dis-
gusted by his insolent anticipation of the airs of royalty ; he
had joined a faction against the Earl of Murray, Mary's
illegitimate brother, and the leader of the Scottish reformers,
whose good-will it was peculiarly important to him to culti-
vate ; and in the mean time had disgraced himself by forming
a strict intimacy with Mary's secretary for French affairs,
the Italian Rizzio, a man of mean birth and habits, whom
her imprudent favour had rendered an object of indignant
jealousy in the Court, as well as of popular hatred ; he had
betrayed a temper even ferocious, in drawing his dagger on a
nobleman sent to apprise him that the Queen, in order to
temporise with Elizabeth, wished to defer for a while his

30 HENRY STUART (LORD DARNLEY),

creation of Duke of Albany, a royal title to which she raised
him shortly before their marriage.

The short civil war which, at the instigation of Elizabeth,
the exiled protestant Peers returned to raise, presently
followed the nuptials. It had little concern with Henry's
barren story beyond the simple fact that he was the incidental
and passive cause of it. Mary's complete success in the
issue of it afforded him a triumph over the House of
Hamilton, the ancient enemies of his family, peculiarly
gratifying to such a mind as his ; and when the Duke of
Chatelherault, who had been among the subdued malcon-
tents, humbly sued for a pardon, he opposed it with furious
vehemence, and prevailed on the Queen to qualify it by
compelling the Duke to reside in France. Mary's con-
descension in this, and other affairs, served but to increase
his desire of powers which he was incapable to wield.
They had been married scarcely three months when he
beset her with incessant importunities that he might be
declared to possess the Crown Matrimonial, an obscure
phrase peculiar to the Scottish regal law, which denoted
however a degree of authority nearly co-ordinate with that
of the reigning princess. This it was not in Mary's power
to confer but jointly with the Parliament, the consent of
which it would have been dangerous to ask, yet he could
not brook the disappointment. Domestic quarrels followed.
He neglected her person ; avoided her society ; and fell into
unbecoming vices, while that insuperable anger which flows
peculiarly from ill-requited love took full possession of her
breast, and it was only her contempt of his weakness that
spared him from her pure hatred. The short space of seven
months sufficed to produce and consummate this excess of
contrary passions in the mind of Mary.

The King, unable to act, or at least to think, for himself,
soon felt the inconvenience of these commotions. He sought
for advice, or rather for support, in the counsels of Rizzio,
and was met by cold remonstrances on his own misconduct.

KING OF SCOTLAND. 31

No great measure of craft was necessary to induce th#t
foreigner to adopt a course so generally reasonable, as well
as so evidently suited to the maintenance of his own interests.
Henry however conceived the most rancorous enmity towards
him, and presently found himself unexpectedly at the head
of a party whose support he could have little right to expect,
and whose attachment to him could scarcely be sincere. It
consisted of the Chancellor Morton, and several other power-
ful Peers, most of them related to him in blood, and all
offended by the disappointment, which they ascribed to his
weakness or negligence, of that rule in the affairs of Scotland
which they had expected to found on his marriage. He
readily accepted them as friends, and in the gratification of
making him an instrument in the destruction of Rizzio, they
forgot for the time their resentment towards himself. They
spared no arguments to mortify his pride, or to increase his
anger. They aggravated the extent of the Italian's influence
in public affairs, and his own insignificance, which they
represented as a necessary consequence of that influence.
They asserted that he owed to Rizzio's intrigues and malice
the denial to him of the Crown Matrimonial. They raised
at length in him that maddening flame which of all others
is the most easily kindled in the weakest minds — they per-
suaded him that Mary was unfaithful to his bed, and that
Rizzio was her paramour. Thus excited, Henry proposed,
or at least eagerly agreed, that he should be taken off by
assassination. A treaty was regularly concluded between
the King and the rest, by which they promised him the
Crown Matrimonial, and the independent succession to the
Throne, should he outlive the Queen, while he engaged to
avow himself, should it become necessary, the author of
the conspiracy, and to protect those who had undertaken to
act in it.

The evening of the ninth of March, 1566, was appointed
for the consummation of the bloody enterprise, and never was
murder perpetrated with more savage ferocity, nor marked

32 HENRY STUART (LORD DARNLEY),

by stronger proofs of national barbarism. It was known
that Rizzio was to sup with the Queen, who was now in the
sixth month of her pregnancy, and Henry was anxious that
he should die in her presence. The Chancellor Morton
personally headed the band of soldiers who secured the
avenues to the palace, and the King himself led the assassins
into Mary's chamber. To complete the horror of the pre-
parations, Lord Ruthven, the King's uncle, who was appointed
to strike the first blow, had risen for that purpose from his
bed, where he had been long confined by dangerous illness,
and followed Henry, led by two men, and covered with
armour, except his face, in which a pallid ghastliness was
enlivened only by gleams of furious expression. On their
entrance, Rizzio started from his seat, and clung to the
person of the Queen, behind whose chair, Henry, silent and
irresolute, had taken his station ; but Ruthven, drawing his
dagger, commanded his followers to tear the devoted victim
from his sanctuary, and, in dragging him into the adjoining
room, he perished, pierced by fifty-six wounds. Murray and
his exiled companions, who had been previously apprised of
the murderous plan, entered Edinburgh triumphantly on the
following day, and Mary was compelled not only to receive
them with an affected complacency, but also to admit into
her presence Morton and Ruthven, and to promise them a
pardon on their own terms.

Incredible as it may seem, such was the address of Mary,
and the weakness and perfidy of her consort, that even on
the succeeding day, the eleventh of March, she persuaded
him to quit the capital privately with her, and to break all
the engagements by which he had so lately bound himself
to her enemies. They fled to Dunbar, situated in a country
deeply devoted to her, and were presently surrounded by a
formidable military host, at the head of wrhich they returned
towards Edinburgh ; Henry, on the way, issuing proclama-
tions, in which he disavowed all knowledge of the late
enormity, and denounced vengeance against the assassins,

KING OF SCOTLAND. 33

who had already again fled into England, then, as still, the
land of certain refuge for foreign public offenders. This
treachery, however, though used against those whom she
detested, served but to increase the odium in which she
already held him. Once more in a state of comparative
security, she stripped him of all authority, estranged herself
almost entirely from his society, and abandoned him with
manifest indifference to the company of some almost unknown
persons in whose debaucheries he had been used to share.
His resentment was at length roused, and the proofs which
he gave of it were such as might have been expected from
him, fraught with childish folly, caprice, and indecision. He
endeavoured to interest foreign potentates in his behalf,
besought them to receive him into their dominions, and was
neglected by them. He refused to be present at the pompous
baptism of his son, and endeavoured to enrage the Queen by
other petty insults. In the mean time Mary's heart, if it
may be so said, declared for a new favourite, James Hepburn,
Earl of Bothwell, a man whose character had no point of
resemblance to that of her husband but one — a total want of
principle. With him, painful as it is to be obliged to reject
all doubt on such a subject, it cannot be reasonably denied
that she concerted means of depriving Henry of life.

The King had for many weeks resided at Stirling, neglected
and almost in solitude, when a rumour suddenly reached him
of a design to imprison him. He fled instantly towards
Glasgow, where his father was at the time, and was seized
on his way thither by a distemper, so violent as to render
his case for many days utterly hopeless. Mary, by whom he
had never been visited during this extremity, on his amend-
ment, and arrival at Glasgow, flew thither, with every pro-
fession and appearance of conjugal tenderness ; attended
him constantly as his nurse ; and, as soon as he was able
to bear the journey, persuaded him to remove to Edinburgh.
He was carried thither in a litter, and lodged, not in the
palace, but under the pretences of obtaining better air and

34 HENRY STUART (LORD DARNLEY).

more quiet, in a house, then in the suburbs, belonging to the
provost of a collegiate church, called Kirk of Field. There
Mary's assiduities were increased. She seldom left him
during the day, and sometimes slept in the chamber under
that in which he lay. His fears and suspicions, and peevish
humours, were lulled to rest, and the endearments of their
bridal days seemed to be revived, when, on Sunday the ninth
of February, 1567, N.S., the Queen left him about eleven
at night, to be present at a masque in the palace, and at
two the next morning the house in which he lay was blown
up with gunpowder. The bodies of the King, and of the
servant who slept in his chamber, were found at a little
distance, perfect, and without any marks of fire, or of
violence.

JAMES STUART,

KARL OF MURRAY,

FOR so invariably do we find him denominated by that
style in all historical authorities, as w.ell printed as manu-
script, that it might create confusion were we to adopt here
a modern affectation of strict correctness, and call him Earl
of Moray, according to the usage of his noble successors of
later years, founded on the latinized title, " Comes Moraviae,"
in the document by which his Earldom was conferred.

He was one of the several illegitimate children of King
James the Fifth of Scotland, and his mother was Margaret,
daughter of John Erskine, fifth Earl of Mar, and afterwards
wife of Sir Robert Douglas of Lochleven. He was born in the
year 1533, and intended, after the usual royal fashion of
Scotland in providing for such issue, for the ecclesiastical
profession. The rich priory of St. Andrews, and several
other benefices, were accordingly conferred on him while in
his cradle, and he was afterwards appointed Prior of Macon,
in France. In 1548 he accompanied the infant Mary, who
was nine years younger than himself, to the court of Paris,
where he presently imbibed all the refinements which dis-
tinguished it ; became enamoured of political and military
science ; and cultivated so assiduously and so generally the
fine talents which nature had bestowed on him, that he
became versed in a variety of knowledge far beyond the
scope of the best education of that time. To all these quali-
fications, acquired too in a court never remarkable for the

D2

36 JAMES STUART,

purity of its manners, he is said to have joined a reverence
towards religion, and a strict decency of moral conduct,
always rare in persons of his age and rank.

He remained several years in France, for it should seem
from circumstances that he returned not till 1556, a period
rendered peculiarly interesting by the discord of parties,
civil and religious, and by the jealousy entertained of the
French interest in Scotland, which was cherished and repre-
sented by the Queen Dowager, Mary of Guise, who wielded
the regency. He stood aloof for a long time, seemingly to
consider and digest in his mind the posture of affairs before
he engaged in them. He was however at length nominated
by the Parliament one of the eight commissioners deputed to
negotiate the treaty of marriage between Mary and the Dau-
phin, and to represent the Scottish nation at the celebration
of the nuptials, which occurred on the fourteenth of April,
1558. In the mean time he adhered to, or at least left un-
opposed, the measures of the Queen Regent, with a gradually
increasing bias however to the cause of the reformers, who
had now become a formidable party in the state, and who
had been driven into insurrection by some late instances of
persecution. The Regent levied an army to chastise them, but
was prevailed on to negotiate, and appointed the Lord James,
as he was then called, together with the Earl of Argyll, her
commissioners for that purpose. A treaty was concluded,
every article of which was broken by her as soon as the insur-
gents had disbanded, and Murray resented her abandonment
of faith by promptly and openly joining "the Lords of the
Congregation," a denomination by which the chiefs of the
Protestants had thought fit to distinguish themselves. His
talents, his virtues, and his courage, presently placed him at
their head, and rendered him the idol of the whole party.
The Regent became alarmed at the formidable attitude in
which he was thus suddenly placed, and, having vainly endea-
voured by splendid offers to detach him from his associates,
strove, with no better success, to insinuate to them that he

EARL OF MURRAY. 37

secretly entertained a design to usurp the throne. The
reformers now again took up arms, and he appeared among
them with a distinct military command, but the death of the
Regent, in the summer of 1560, saved Scotland for the time
from the horrors of a civil war. A few days before it occurred
she solicited an interview with him ; confessed to him the
errors of her government ; and took leave of him in cordial
reconciliation.

His half sister, Mary, the regnant Queen of Scotland, and
Queen Consort,in France, became a widow towards the con-
clusion of the same year, and a Convention of Estates
appointed him to wait on her with their solicitations for her
return to her kingdom, from which she had now been absent
for twelve years. In this visit he laid the ground of a system,
if not of favour, at least of forbearance with respect to the
reformers, and after her arrival, obtained through his influence
over them, though with some difficulty, an engagement for
the unmolested worship of God in her family according to
the ancient faith. He now held, as might have been expected,
the first place in her favour, and presently became an object
of envy. The Duke of Chatelherault, first prince of the blood,
and with him the whole House of Hamilton, and the Earl of
Huntly, one of the most powerful among the leaders of the
Catholic party, became, from different motives, his enemies.
The intemperance of the latter plunged him into open rebel-
lion, and he fell in the field, in the sight of Murray, who had
opposed himself to him, at the head of a small body of troops,
his skill and bravery in the command of which gave an ample
earnest to his country of the extent of his military talents.

Murray might now be said to govern the kingdom. The
most perfect cordiality subsisted between the Queen and him-
self, and their agreement was beheld by all, except the parties
just mentioned, without fear or jealousy. She seemed to sub-
mit herself wholly to his advice, and the peace of Scotland,
for nearly three years, suffered no interruption but from the
occasional turbulence of the reformers, when the appearance

38 JAMES STUAET,

of Darnley in the character of a suitor for Mary's hand sud-
denly clouded the prospect in all its parts. It was with
Murray's consent that the Earl of Lennox and his son had
been invited into Scotland, nor does it appear that he had in
the beginning expressed any disapprobation of Mary's extra-
vagant partiality towards Darnley, but he discovered soon
after their arrival that they had secretly connected them-
selves with his enemies, and even that Darnley, in the folly
of youth, had complained without reserve of the great extent
of the Queen's favour towards him. He observed too that
her regard for himself was declining, and an altered conduct
towards him in the sycophants of the court convinced him
that he was not mistaken. Too haughty to make remon-
strances of doubtful success, and too generous to avail him-
self of the means of vengeance with which his popularity had
armed him, he retired silently from the court. Mary, with
all the winning persuasion which she eminently possessed,
recalled him, and he obeyed the summons. She spared no
efforts to pacify and to conciliate him, but she concluded by
requesting him to sign a written approbation of her marriage
with Darnley, which he steadfastly refused. From that hour
an enmity, the more deadly for having succeeded to a friend-
ship which had borne all the marks of sincerity, took place
between them. Mary, if she did not encourage, took no pains
to check, the fury of Darnley, which extended even to a
methodized plan of assassination, while Murray concerted
measures with a party, in which were some of his own bitter
enemies, for seizing the person of that favoured youth, and
conveying him a prisoner into England, which Mary pre-
vented by a timely flight with him to a place of undoubted
security.

Our Elizabeth, bred in a gloomy jealousy of Scotland, to
which was added a positive hatred to the person of Mary,
though perhaps not minutely apprised of the detail of this
design, had spared no pains in fomenting the spirit in which
it was conceived. Murray, blinded by his resentment, had

EARL OF MURRAY, 39

condescended to listen to her secret overtures, and to engage
himself unwarily in her measures against his countiy ; while
Mary sealed his determination by commencing against him a
positive persecution. Three days only after her marriage with
Darnley, she issued a peremptory command, which she knew
he durst not obey, for his immediate appearance at her court,
and on his failure declared him an outlaw. At the same time
she received into her favour, and even strict confidence, three
powerful nobles, who were distinguished as his most implac-
able enemies, and levied troops with all expedition, to force
him and his adherents from those strongholds in the High-
lands where they had taken refuge, surrounded by their vassals,
and anxiously waiting for aid from their new patroness, Eliza-
beth. That princess, it is true, now publicly interfered for
them, especially for Murray, but in a mode purposely con-
trived to widen the breach. She remonstrated with Mary on
the injustice of her conduct towards him, and justified the
acts on his part by which it had been provoked. Encouraged
by the countenance of so powerful an intercessor, and by the
acquisition of a small sum which she had caused to be remitted
to them, Murray and his adherents now appeared in arms.
Mary in person marched at the head of her troops to meet
them, and drove them before her from Dumfries to the borders,
from whence Murray, and a very few of his principal com-
panions, precipitately fled into England, to claim the protec-
tion which Elizabeth had given them so many reasons to
expect at her hands. They long remained totally neglected
by her, and at length Murray and another obtained with much
difficulty an audience, on condition that they should deny, in
the presence of the French and Spanish ambassadors, that
Elizabeth had encouraged them to take up arms. They had
no sooner made this declaration, than she addressed to them
the most bitter reproaches ; charged them with rebellion
against their lawful Prince ; and in a furious tone commanded
them as traitors to quit her presence. She permitted them
however to remain in England, to the northernmost part of
which they immediately retired.

40 JAMES STUART,

While this incredible piece of treachery was acting in
London, Mary called a meeting of Parliament to proceed
vigorously against the fugitives. Strong remonstrances, how-
ever, in favour of Murray, particularly from those who had
been the leaders of the " congregation," induced her to pause.
Elizabeth also again thought fit to add her instances, and
Murray himself is improbably said to have been so far
induced to forget his own dignity as to solicit and obtain the
good offices of David Rizzio. At this precise period, however,
Mary secretly joined the fearful conspiracy of France and
Spain for the extermination of the Protestants in all their
dominions, and Murray was too illustrious a victim to be
spared. She again determined therefore to prosecute him with
the utmost expedition and severity, when the strange event
of the assassination of Rizzio, and its consequences, once more
averted the execution of her vengeance, but excited considera-
tions which suddenly rendered her immediate reconciliation
with Murray prudent, if not necessary. The conspirators,
Morton, Ruthven, and the rest, his old friends and partisans,
had regularly apprised him, in his neighbouring exile, of the
progress of their frightful enterprise, and of its success, and
he arrived in Edinburgh on the evening following the murder,
to join them in the desperate project which they had formed
for extorting a pardon from the Queen. The great advantage
which she might derive from the division of this powerful
party instantly occurred to her, and she lost no time in
attempting it. She received Murray, with those who had
fled, and now returned, with him, in the most gracious manner,
promised them an utter oblivion of their offences, and even a
renewal of her favour, and Murray, with his friends, con-
sented to abandon the assassins of Rizzio, who fled with pre-
cipitation into the foreign asylum which the others had so
lately quitted. These matters occurred in the month of
March, 1565-6.

A year succeeded, crowned with most extraordinary events,
the relation of which belongs to the general history of Scot-
land, in which the name of Murray scarcely once occurs

EARL OF MURRAY. 41

during that period. Among a few conditions on which his
late reconciliation with Mary had been founded, was a solemn
pledge given on his part to abstain from all acts of enmity
against the Earl of Bothwell, between whom and himself a
bitter discord had long subsisted, and this may in some mea-
sure account for his inaction in any of the dismal scenes which
had their origin in the iniquitous ambition of that nobleman,
and the scarcely less criminal weakness of the Queen. It has
been even said, but improbably, that he recommended her
to marry Bothwell. About the middle of the year he obtained
permission to travel, and took up his residence in France,
where he remained while a mighty combination of nobles was
forming for the deposition of Mary, and carrying its views
into effect. That they were advised and animated by him
from his retreat there can be little doubt, though history
affords no clear proof of that fact. The infant James was
now placed on the throne ; Murray returned ; and, with an
affected reluctance, accepted the office of Regent on the
twenty-third of August, 1567.

His very entrance on this high trust evinced a clearness of
judgment, a consistency of action, and, if the expression may
be allowed, a political morality, of neither of which the Scots
of that day had seen any examples in their former governors.
Before, however, his administration could assume a fixed
character new distractions arose. Mary escaped from her
confinement at Lochleven, and raised an army. Dismay and
irresolution seized his adherents. They pressed him to
negotiate or to retreat, but he remained unmoved, and, having
disposed his inferior force to the best advantage, waited the
attack which he knew he might expect from the Queen's
impetuosity. The decisive battle of Langside followed, and
the vanquished Mary fled into England, never to return. The
Regent used his victory with mercy and moderation. Few
had perished in the field, and none subsequently fell by the
hands of the executioner. He was returning to the civil
duties of his office when a new and unexpected call again
withdrew him from them. Mary, who it is needless to say

42 JAMES STUART, EARL OF MURRAY.

was now a prisoner, in the hands of Elizabeth, resolved to
submit her cause to the judgment of that Princess, who
readily accepted the jurisdiction, and required the Regent to
defend his conduct towards his Sovereign. Commissioners
for the discussion were appointed on each side, and the cele-
brated conferences at York and Westminster ensued, the
detail of which is so well known to historical readers that it
would be idle were it possible to repeat any part of it in this
necessarily superficial sketch. Suffice it therefore to say that
the sound sense of Murray was baffled on every point by the
deep artifice of Elizabeth and her ministers ; and that even
on the single question to which he had previously resolved
never to give an explicit answer, namely, whether the Queen
of Scots had been a party in the murder of her husband,
he was at length drawn in to make a clear and definite
declaration.

Little more can be said of this eminent person. The short
remainder of his life presents nothing to our view beyond the
ordinary measures of good domestic government, which
adorned the brief term of his administration, and procured
for him the appellation of " the good Regent," by which he
was long distinguished in Scotland. He perished by the hand
of an assassin, of a junior line of that illustrious family with
which he had been always at bitter variance ; not in pur-
suance of that feud, nor for any public cause, but to avenge
an injury purely private and personal. In riding through
the high street of the town of Linlithgow, on the twenty-
third of January, 1570, he was shot through the body by
James Hamilton, of Bothwellhaugh, and died within a few
hours after.

The Earl of Murray married, in February, 1561, Anne,
eldest daughter of William Keith, fourth Earl Marischal, and
afterwards wife to Colin Campbell, sixth Earl of Argyll. He
had by her two daughters ; Elizabeth, married to James
Stewart, son of the Lord Doun ; and Margaret, to Francis Hay,
ninth Earl of Errol.

OB: 1572.

JOHN KNOX.

THE life of an ecclesiastical reformer, a title always
bestowed on those whose endeavours to overthrow a religious
establishment have been crowned by success, requires many
episodes to render it interesting to any others than those of
his own profession. The journey ings, and preachings, and
mortifications, and weepings, and raptures of such a person ;
nay, his veiy prophecies, unless some one of them should
chance to be verified, which, for the best of all reasons,
scarcely ever happens ; can never attract general attention.
To bespeak our regard he must have raised armies by the
magic of his eloquence, hurled Kings from their thrones,
annihilated civil systems, burned multitudes of persons, or
must at least himself have been burned. Knox had none of
these recommendations. He was a busy instrument in the
propagation of a schism which would have worked its way,
perhaps not quite so speedily, if he had never had existence.
He was deputed to undermine by coarse and vulgar declama-
tion a monarchy, the honour of pulling down which his
employers intended to reserve to themselves. His brutal
insolence to the Sovereigns under whom he lived never
exalted itself to active rebellion ; he suffered no punishment
which could be deemed persecution, nor did his station afford
him the power of persecuting others. His secret transactions
and engagements with the eminent persons whom he joined
in disturbing the peace of their country have never been dis-

44 JOHN KNOX.

covered, and his history is almost wholly confined to the
ravings of fanaticism and sedition.

Who were his parents is unknown, yet the fact of his
having been descended from the ancient and respectable
family of Knox of Renfarleigh, in the shire of Renfrew, is
supported by such strong presumptions that it cannot be
doubted. He was born in 1505, at a village called Giffard, in
East Lothian, and having received his first instructions for
the clerical profession at the grammar-school of the neigh-
bouring town of Haddington, was removed to the University
of St. Andrews, where he studied under the tuition of John
Mair, an eminent teacher of the theology then in vogue, with
such application and activity that he is said to have obtained
the degree of Master of Arts while yet a youth, and to have
been admitted into priest's orders before the age prescribed
by ecclesiastical law. The subtilties, however, of school
divinity were ill suited to the bold and inquisitive character
of his mind, and he soon abandoned them for the study of the
primitive fathers, in which he passed several years of severe
application. At length the doctrines of the Reformation
reached Scotland ; he attached himself to a priest of the name
of Williams, provincial of the Scottish Benedictines, who had
not only translated the New Testament, but had publicly
decried in his sermons the Pope's authority ; and soon after,
in 1544, renounced in form the Roman Catholic faith, and
became the regular disciple of the famous George Wishart.
He attended that more moderate pastor in his spiritual pro-
gresses till the commencement of the year 1546, when Wishart
was put to death, and celebrated his memory in the usual
strain which such writers apply to such subjects.

From his connexion with Wishart he derived considerable
fame among the reformers, who began to consider and treat
him as the head of their infant church. The Lairds of
Ormeston and Langniddry, powerful men, who were then
the chief temporal patrons of the new persuasion, appointed
him tutor to their children, and he lived in their houses.

JOHN KNOX. 45

Processes were at length issued against him, and he had
resolved to fly to Germany, but those gentlemen persuaded
him to take refuge in St. Andrews, where the castle was then
held by the persons who had lately assassinated in it Car-
dinal Beatoun, its owner. Knox, who had called that murder
" a godly thing," which he repeats in his history, was
received by them with joy. He expounded and catechised
so hopefully that they declared " the gift of God to be in
him," and called on him with one voice to assume the office
of a public preacher, which, after long persuasion, he accepted,
and presently after signalised himself by a sermon so furious
that the new Primate instantly took measures to silence him.
These, however, were prevented by the party in the castle,
which in fact ruled the town; and the Catholics could do
little beyond summoning Knox to a public disputation, to
which he gladly agreed, and in which, as might be expected,
we are told that he was completely successful. The whole
city now embraced his doctrines ; the church relinquished an
opposition which in that place was utterly fruitless ; and he
remained there, with the merit at least of indefatigable appli-
cation to his object, till July, 1547, when the castle was
reduced by a French force, and he was put on board one of
the galleys which brought it over, in which he remained on
the coast of France a prisoner for two years.

In 1549 he was liberated, and came to London, where he
obtained a licence to preach at Berwick, and soon after at
Newcastle on Tyne, and repaired for that purpose into the
north. During his residence there he received the appoint-
ment of a chaplain in ordinary to Edward the Sixth, as well
as some rebukes for the extravagancy of certain of his tenets,
and returned to London in the spring of 1553, where he
refused to accept a living which the Privy Council had moved
Archbishop Cranmer to bestow on him, and vilified the King's
ministers in his sermons, under the names of Achitophel,
Judas, &c. To have prosecuted him specifically for that
insolence, might have been then very injurious to the progress

46 JOHN KNOX.

of the Reformation ; they endeavoured therefore to curb him
by another method : he was cited before the Council to assign
his reasons for refusing the benefice, with the view, probably,
of provoking hiny, into unlawful invectives against the new
establishment in England. His answers, though sufficiently
proving his dissatisfaction with that system, were uttered
with such caution that no safe ground could be taken whereon
to institute any further proceeding against him, but he was
dismissed with an admonition whfcch, however gently delivered,
determined him to exercise his vocation in the country, and
he was preaching in the towns and villages of Buckingham-
shire, to large congregations, probably attracted by the novelty
of a dialect which must have been unintelligible to them,
when the accession of Mary rendered it prudent for him to
quit the kingdom. He embarked for Dieppe in February,
1554, N.S., and travelled from thence to Geneva, where he
placed himself in the presence, and under the orders of his
great spiritual principal, John Calvin.

Calvin presently deputed him to Frankfort, to minister to
the English Protestants who had fled from the violence of
Mary, and settled in great numbers in that city ; but his
doctrines were even more oifensive to these good people than
those of the Church of Rome. Unwilling to engage in end-
less controversy with him, and unable to prevail on him to
use the English Liturgy, they took a short method to disen-
cumber themselves of him, accusing him of treason to the
magistrates of the city, both against their sovereign the
Emperor, and against Queen Mary ; upon which the magis-
trates, aware that they could not avoid surrendering him to
either of these Potentates who might demand his person,
secretly apprised him of his danger, and he returned preci-
pitately to Geneva, where he remained from March, 1555, till
the following August, when he determined to visit again his
native land. His transactions there, during the abode of a
year, present little beyond the usual contents of the journal
of any other itinerant preacher. It is true that the Scottish

JOHN KNOX. 47

secession from Popery had assumed, during his long absence,
the character of an important political implement, and his
consequence had necessarily increased. The nobility of the
Kirk, as it now began to be called, were the regular oppo-
nents of the Court and government of the Queen Regent ;
Knox was too promising an agent to be neglected : and they
courted his intimacy. They easily prevailed on him to affront
that lady by addressing to her a letter, abusing the faith in
which she had lived, and exhorting her to hear his sermons ;
and Mary, with great justice, called it a pasquinade. The
Prelates at length cited him to answer for his conduct, and he
obeyed by repairing to Edinburgh on the appointed day, and
preaching there to the largest congregation that he had ever
drawn together. No further steps however were taken
against him while he remained in Scotland ; yet in July, 1556,
he once more returned to Geneva, and had no sooner disap-
peared than the Bishops again cited him, and, on his non-
appearance, condemned him to death for heresy, and his effigy
was burned in Edinburgh. In all this there was much of the
air of a compromise.

In the summer of the following year the discontented
Lords, conceiving that they had now gained sufficient strength
to protect him against the government, pressed him to return
to Scotland, and Calvin told him that to refuse would be
" rebellion against God, and cruelty to his country ; " so he
set out on his journey, but when he had reached Dieppe, and
was about to embark, he received letters, informing him that
some leading persons in the party had begun to waver, and
recommending it to him to halt for a time on the Continent.
Knox appears to have been excited to great wrath by these
intimations. He was prudent enough to take the advice of
his friends, and returned to Geneva, doubtful of their since-
rity, or their power, or both ; but he answered the letters with
denunciations of vengeance, uttered in a style of papal autho-
rity, against inconstancy in any of his disciples. He was
sufficiently employed however in the good cause at Geneva,

48 JOHN KNOX.

for he now wrote, and printed there, his invective against the
sovereignty of females, with the awful title of " The first Blast
of the Trumpet against the monstrous Regimen of Women,"
the most remarkable of his works, aimed at once against his
own Queen, and our Mary. He was preparing a second
Blast, when the last named Princess died, and the accession
of Elizabeth, whose aversion to popery was well known,
induced him to lay it aside. In contemplation of obtaining
her furtherance he now determined to visit England, and
wrote to Cecil for a licence to that end, which was peremp-
torily and scornfully refused. Knox discovered that his book
had induced this repulse, and forced the Secretary into a
correspondence on its merits, in which, however disgusting
the insolence, and obstinacy, and mad fanaticism of the man,
we cannot but admire his sincerity and courage.

To give one short extract from this most singular letter : —
" If any think me," says he, " either enemy to the person,
or yet to the regimen, of her whom God hath now promoted,
they are utterly deceived of me ; for the miraculous work of
God, comforting his afflicted by an infirm vessel, I do acknow-
ledge ; and the power of his most potent hand (raising up
whom best pleaseth his mercy to suppress such as fight
against his glory) I will obey, albeit that both nature, and
God's most perfect ordinance, repugn to such regimen. More
plainly to speak, if Queen Elizabeth shall confess that the
extraordinary dispensation of God's great mercy maketh that
lawful unto her which both nature and God's law doth deny
unto all women, then shall none in England be more willing
to maintain her lawful authority than I shall be ; but if,
God's wondrous work set aside, she ground, as God forbid,
the justness of her title upon consuetude, laws, or ordinances
of men, then I am assured that as such foolish presumption
doth highly offend God's supreme Majesty, so do I greatly
fear that her ingratitude shall not long want punishment."
Not content with writing thus to Cecil, he addressed a letter
to Elizabeth herself, in which we find the following menacing

JOHN KNOX. 49

passage : — " If thus in God's presence you humble yourself,
as in my heart I glorify God for that rest granted to his
afflicted flock within England under you, a weak instrument,
so will I with tongue and pen justify your authority and
regimen, as the Holy Ghost hath justified the same in
Deborah, that blessed mother in Israel : But, if the premises,
as God forbid, neglected, you shall begin to brag of your
birth, and to build your authority and regimen upon your
own law, flatter you who so list, your felicity shall be short."
Need it be asked whether this was the effect of inspiration or
insanity ?

Too much however in his senses to trust himself in Eliza-
beth's hands, and hopeless of converting her to puritanism,
he now set out for Scotland, and arrived there in May, 1559.
He was soon after nominated by the Lords of the Congre-
gation, as they had for some time styled themselves, together
with another preacher, to endeavour to obtain by negotiation
that Princess's aid to the temporal views of the Kirk, which,
as is well known, she most readily granted. The subversion
of the ancient religion was now consummated. Knox com-
posed a code of constitutions for the newly-invented church,
at great length, and digested with a clearness and precision
of which, in spite of his ferocious wildness, he was very
capable. One of the nine general heads which it comprised was
intituled, " Touching the Suppression of Idolatry," and con-
tained this sweeping clause — " Idolatry, with all monuments
and places of the same, as abbeys, chapels, monkeries,
friaries, nunneries, chantries, cathedral churches, canonries,
colleges, other than presently are parish churches or schools,
to be utterly suppressed in all places of this realm ; palaces,
mansions, and dwelling-houses, with their orchards and gar-
dens, only excepted." The Estates, even before they had
ratified these constitutions, became so enamoured of that
peculiar article, that they passed an act specially for the exe-
cution of its provisions, and Knox aided their pious intention
by simultaneously proclaiming in a sermon that the " sure

II. E

50 JOHN KNOX.

way to banish the rooks was to pull down their nests."
Instantly commenced that barbarous havoc, the disgrace of
which to the land is still attested by so many magnificent
relics. " Thereupon ensued," pathetically writes Archbishop
Spotswood, who was no enemy to the prime author of the
mischief, " a pitiful vastation of churches and church build-
ings throughout all the parts of the realm ; for every one
made bold to put their hands, the meaner sort imitating the
ensample of the greater, and those who were in authority.
No difference was made, but all the churches either defaced,
or pulled to the ground. The holy vessels, and whatsoever
else men could make gain of, such as timber, lead, and bells,
were put to sale. The very sepulchres of the dead were not
spared. The registers of the church, and bibliotheques, cast
into the fire. In a word, all was ruined."

The ecclesiastical government was now committed to
twelve persons ; the kingdom divided into as many districts,
to be placed under their care respectively ; and that of Edin-
burgh was assigned to Knox. There the celebrated Mary
found him, intoxicated by power and popularity, on her
arrival from France to take possession of a crown of thorns,
the first of which he planted. The private exercise in the
chapel of her palace of the faith in which she had been born
and bred was intolerable to him, and, in defiance of an act
of the State by which the penalty of death was denounced
against any one who should disturb such worship, he inveighed
furiously against it in his pulpit on the very first Sunday
after her coming ; declaring that "one mass was more frightful
to him than ten thousand armed enemies landed in any part
of the realm." Mary, forced to temporize, attempted to
move him in the courteousness of private conference, but he
was inexorable. The only concessions, if they might be so
called, which she could obtain from him regarded his book
lately mentioned. He declared that he had written it solely
" against that wicked Jezabel of England ;" and told her that
as St. Paul could live under the government of Nero, so

JOHN KNOX. •*>!

could he under hers. " She promised him access to her,"
says the most popular of the Scottish historians, quoting, in
this instance, Knox's own authority, " whenever he demanded
it : and she even desired him, if he found her blameable in
anything, to reprehend her freely in private, rather than
vilify her in the pulpit before all the people ; but he plainly
told her that he had a public ministiy entrusted to him ;
that if she would come to church she should hear the gospel
of truth ; and that it was not his business to apply to every
individual, nor had he leisure for such occupation." " This
rustic apostle," adds the same writer, " scruples not in his
history to inform us that he once treated her with such seve-
rity that she lost all command of her temper, and dissolved
into tears before him. Yet, so far from being moved with
youth and beauty and royal dignity, reduced to that con-
dition, he persevered in his insolent reproofs, and when he
relates this incident, he even discovers a visible pride and
satisfaction in his own conduct." Innumerable instances of
this savage insolence towards the fair Queen might be cited
from Knox's own relation.

This singular person survived the date of the complete
establishment of his church for ten years, a portion of his
life which affords not a single circumstance worthy to be
recorded. With some show of reason indeed have his dis-
ciples asserted that Providence raised him up especially to
perform that work, for certainly he was qualified for no other,
and sunk, therefore, after he had accomplished it, into com-
parative insignificance. He died, after a gradual decay of
three months, on the twenty-fourth of November, 1572, and
was buried in the churchyard of the parish of St. Giles's,
Edinburgh. Knox, amidst his pious cares, seems to have
been by no means inattentive to his private interests : there is
reason to believe that he died even wealthy. Certain it is
that he was twice very respectably married ; first, to Mar-
gery Bowes, of the ancient family of that name in the county
of Durham; secondly, to Margaret, daughter of Andrew

52 JOHN KNOX.

Stuart, Lord Ochiltree. By his first wife he had two sons,
Nathaniel and Eleazar, who were educated in St. John's
College, in the University of Cambridge, became Fellows of
that house, and beneficed clergymen in England ; and one
daughter, married to Robert Pont, a Lord of Session. By the
second, he had three daughters, two of whom became the
wives of ministers of the names of Welsh and Fleming.

Knox's writings — all, as might be expected, of the pole-
mical class — were numerous. His " History of the Reform-
ation within the realm of Scotland," a book on many accounts
of considerable curiosity, is well known ; for the rest, it is
painful to enumerate works which no one in this time has
read, or will read, and yet some mention of them may be
expected here. The following are extant in print : — " A
faithful Admonition to the true Professors of the Gospel of
Christ within the Kingdom of England," 1554—" A Letter
to Mary, Queen Regent of Scotland," 1556—" The Appel-
lation of John Knox from the cruel and unjust Sentence pro-
nounced against him by the false Bishops and Clergy of Scot-
land, with a Supplication and Exhortation to the Nobility, Es-
tates and Commonalty of the same Realm," 1558 — "The First
Blast," &c. already spoken of, 1558 — " A Brief Exhortation
to England for the speedy Embracing of Christ's Gospel, here-
tofore by the Tyranny of Mary suppressed and banished,"
1559 — " An Answer to a great number of blasphemous Cavil-
lations written by an Anabaptist, and Adversary of God's
eternal Predestination," 1560 — " A Reply to the Abbot of
Crossragwell's (Crossregal) ' Faith, or Catechism,' with his
Conference with that Abbot," 1562—" A Sermon preached
before the King" (Henry Darnley), 1566 — " An Answer to a
Letter written by James Tyria, a Jesuit," 1568. Other of
his pieces are printed in Calderwood's History of the Church
of Scotland, and several of his manuscripts existed about
eighty years since in the hands of a Mr. Robert Woodrow, a
Minister of the Kirk.

(HKQWAIFSO),

DUKF

OB,

THOMAS HOWARD,

FOURTH DUKE OF NORFOLK.

HENRY, Earl of Surrey, the poet, the soldier, and the last
victim to the monstrous cruelty and injustice of Henry the
Eighth, and Frances, third daughter of John de Vere, fifteenth
Earl of Oxford, were the parents of this great nobleman. The
sanguinary death of his father made way for his succession
to the Dukedom in 1557, on the demise of his grandfather,
Thomas, the third Duke, whose family had been restored in
blood in the first year of Queen Mary. The precise date of
his birth is unknown, but he was at that time twenty-one
years old. He had received his early education in the Pro-
testant faith, in the family of his aunt, the Duchess of Rich-
mond, who was a zealous reformer ; and probably afterwards
studied in the University of Oxford, since we find that he
took there the degree of Master of Arts on the nineteenth of
April, 1568.

He had espoused Elizabeth's title to the Crown with all
the ardour of youth, and all the sincerity of inexperience,
and was among the earliest objects of her gratitude when
she succeeded to it. She invested him with the Order of
the Garter, and in the following year appointed him her
Lieutenant in the North, and Commander-in-chief of her
forces there. In those characters, he concluded a treaty, as
soon as he arrived at Berwick, with the Lords, who, for the
protection of the Duke of Chatelherault, next heir to the

54 THOMAS HOWARD,

Crown, were opposed to the French interest in Scotland ;
but the peace of Edinburgh, which speedily followed, pre-
vented him from any opportunity of signalizing himself in
the field. In 1567, Charles the Ninth of France having
complimented Elizabeth with authority to invest two of her
subjects with his then much- valued order of St. Michael, she
named Norfolk to share that distinction. In the next year
he was one of the three Commissioners appointed to examine
at York the charges brought by the Regent Murray against
the captive Queen of Scots, and here he first seriously enter-
tained the idea of that unfortunate matrimonial scheme which
at length proved so fatal to him.

The first overture of this project had been made to him
two years before by Maitland of Lethington, Mary's Secretary
of State, shortly before her marriage to Darnley, when the
Duke " waived it," as we are told, " with a modest refusal."
Murray, with motives very different, now secretly reiterated
the proposal, but it was perhaps yet more discouraged than
before by Norfolk, who objected, with some degree of dis-
dain, to an offer of marriage with a woman who laboured
under a suspicion, indeed a formal accusation, of dreadful
crimes, although that woman were a Sovereign. The cor-
respondence however with Murray, though the subject
perhaps was at present unknown, did not escape the vigi-
lance of Elizabeth's spies, who discovered also that the Duke
sometimes communicated with Lethington, and others in
confidence with the Queen of Scots. In the exercise too
of his office of Commissioner, signs of partiality to her
cause were occasionally observed. Elizabeth's jealousy was
awakened, and she exclaimed, in the hearing of several of
her Court, that " the Queen of Scots would never want a
friend so long as Norfolk lived."

Early in the succeeding year, 1569, we find the Duke
wavering on the proposal of the match. He had consulted
some of his friends ; had been encouraged by them to adopt
the project ; and a small party was secretly in some mea-

FOURTH DUKE OF NORFOLK. 55

sure formed to forward its views. To the scheme for the
Duke's marriage was now added another, for that of his
only daughter to the young King of Scotland, Mary's son.
Elizabeth, who became imperfectly apprised of these trans-
actions, had now just ground for anger, though she had none
to suspect the Duke's loyalty. Even in the midst of their
progress he had ingenuously laid before her certain splendid
offers by which the King of Spain had sought to corrupt his
fidelity, and to induce him to employ his great power and
popularity in embarrassing her government. But the mere
failure of that profound deference to royalty which in those
days rendered it necessary for a nobleman to obtain to his
marriage the previous approbation of his Prince, not to
mention the peculiar circumstances of the bride proposed
in this case, could not but have given high offence to a
Sovereign iess irritable and tenacious than Elizabeth. She
dissembled, however, her resentment till she could fathom
the whole of the plan to the utmost, and the means that she
used for that purpose, though not absolutely proved, are
indicated by such powerful historical probabilities as to
dispel all reasonable doubt. The Earl of Leicester, who
unworthily possessed the Duke's confidence, was employed
by her to abuse it. The darkness which involved the
motives of that subtle and unprincipled man, even in his
own day, has in the lapse of time become generally im-
penetrable ; but it is scarcely possible to surmise with any
degree of plausibility what other end he, who never moved
but with the view of serving his own interest, chiefly by
cultivating her favour, could have proposed by his conduct
in this affair. The concurrent testimony of all historians of
that time has assured us that Leicester, at this very period,
came suddenly forward to urge the Duke with vehemence to
conclude the treaty for the match, and undertook himself an
active and busy agency in the promotion of it ; that when it
was on the point of being accomplished, he affected to fall
sick, and on receiving a visit from her, discovered the whole

56 THOMAS HOWARD,

to the Queen ; and that he so devoted his friend to almost
certain rurti, under the pretence of endeavouring to save
himself from possible displeasure.

Elizabeth however entertained a partiality of some sort
towards Norfolk, and wished to save him. She still received
him with apparent complacency, and even warned him by
hints of his danger. Dining with her at Farnham, she
" advised him pleasantly to be careful on what pillow he
laid his head." She informed him soon after that all had
been imparted to her, and reproached him with severity.
He now besought his friends to mediate for him, and retired
to his estates in Norfolk, but soon returned to the Court,
where on his arrival he learned that the Queen had in the
meantime received a letter from Murray, with new dis-
closures. He was summoned to appear before the Privy
Council, and, having made a large confession, the effusion,
not of fear, but of a mind not less honourable than lofty,
was committed to the Tower on the eleventh of October,
1569, on a charge of high misdemeanors, from whence, after
a year's imprisonment, he was removed to a milder restraint
in his own house, under the care of Sir Henry Neville.
Here he was visited by that honest minister, Burghley, who
loved him not less than he loved honour and impartiality,
and who, says Camden, " did all he could to work him over
to marry any other woman, whereby he would afterwards
be free from suspicion, and the state be out of fear ; not-
withstanding," continues the same author, " there were
some who thought he was now set at liberty on purpose
that he might be brought into some greater danger. This
is certain ; that more things came to light afterwards than
he was aware of, and the fidelity of those who were his
greatest confidants, either by hope or bribery, began to fail
him."

The fatal design had indeed sunk too deeply into Norfolk's
mind to be eradicated. He was no sooner free from all
custody than he engaged in a regular correspondence with

FOURTH DUKE OF NORFOLK. 57

Mary, who suggested applications for assistance to the Pope,
and the King of Spain, with other expedients full of danger
to the state. In this enlargement of the plan it was even
proposed to seize the person of Elizabeth, and to restore the
Catholic religion in England, but this the Duke was proved
to have rejected with horror and detestation. The agency
of persons of mean rank, and of doubtful character, was now
employed, and among them one of the name of Higford, the
Duke's secretary, whom he was obliged to intrust with the
deciphering of Mary's letters, and others, the originals of
which he was strictly ordered to destroy. This however he
disobeyed, and, in the summer of 1571, having been detected
in the act of conveying a sum of money from the French
Ambassador to Mary's party in Scotland, and cast into
prison, in a mixture of fear and treachery voluntarily
directed Elizabeth's government to the secret place in
which he had deposited them. Norfolk was immediately
arrested ; on the seventh of September again committed to
the Tower ; and, on the sixteenth of the succeeding January,
was tried by twenty-five Peers, George Talbot, Earl of
Shrewsbury, presiding as Lord High Steward, on a charge
of high treason, obscurely stated in the indictment, and by
no means proved by the papers produced against him, which
were the sole evidence employed on the occasion : on that
however he was found guilty, and was condemned in the
teeth of the well-known statute of Edward the Sixth, which
enacts that no person shall be convicted of high treason but
on the parole testimony of at least two witnesses, to be
confronted with the accused.

When the usual final question was put to him — " What
he had to say why judgment of death should not be passed
on him ?" he answered only, " God's will be done, who will
judge between me and my false accusers." The sentence was
then pronounced, which he heard with calmness, and when it
was ended said to the Lords in a firm but modest tone,
" Sentence is passed on me as a traitor. I have none to trust

58 THOMAS HOWARD,

to but God and the Queen : I am excluded from your society,
but I hope shortly to enjoy the heavenly. I will fit myself
to die : only this thing I crave — that the Queen would be
kind to my children and servants, and take care that my
debts be paid." Camden, who was officially present at the
trial, records these speeches, and has in his excellent " An-
nals of Elizabeth," a number of minute particulars connected
with this nobleman's story, too extensive to be here inserted
otherwise than in substance, given with a fidelity and impar-
tiality unusual with the historical writers of his time ; but he
prudently leaves the inferences to be drawn by posterity.
There can be no doubt that the Duke's ambition aimed at
the future attainment of the station of King Consort, if the
phrase may be allowed, of Scotland, and eventually of England ;
and it was a blameless ambition, for it involved no question
of Elizabeth's right to reign, nor of any disturbance of the
regular succession to the throne, but aimed merely at the
chance of partaking in the splendour of a legal presumptive
inheritance.

Elizabeth hesitated for several months whether to take the
life of a nobleman perhaps not less beloved by herself than
by her people, but at length gave way to those predominant
feminine passions, fear and jealousy. An address, doubtless
with her secret concurrence, was at length presented to her
by a committee of both Houses of Parliament, beseeching
her to sign the warrant for his execution, with which, affect-
ing that she could not resist the voice of her people so
declared, she complied ; and on the second of June, 1572,
the Duke suffered death on the scaffold, with that pious resig-
nation and dignified calmness, which bespoke at once the
purity and the grandeur of his character.

Thomas, fourth Duke of Norfolk, was thrice married ; first
to Mary, daughter and one of the coheirs of Henry Fitzalan,
fourteenth and last Earl of Arundel of his ancient name, who
died in childbirth, on the twenty-fifth of August, 1557, under
the age of seventeen, leaving however her infant son, Philip,

FOURTH DUKE OF NORFOLK. 59

who became Earl of Arundel in right of his mother. He
married secondly, Margaret, daughter and sole heir of Thomas
Lord Audley of Walden, and Lord Chancellor, and widow of
Henry, a younger son of John Dudley, Duke of Northumber-
land, and by her had two sons, Thomas and William, the
ancestors respectively of the present Earls of Suffolk and
Carlisle ; and two daughters, Elizabeth, who died an infant ;
and Margaret, married to Richard Sackville, third Earl of
Dorset of his name. The Duke's third lady was Elizabeth,
daughter of Sir Francis Leyburne, and widow of Thomas,
fourth Lord Dacre of Gillesland.

-ins OF •WINCH.
OB. ,

WILLIAM POWLETT,

FIRST MARQUIS OF WINCHESTER,

IN contemplating the tyranny, the violence, and the injus-
tice of the time in which this eminent person flourished, we
pause with peculiar complacency on the circumstances of a
life marked by a prosperity so unvaried as scarcely to be
paralleled in the annals of human felicity. In four reigns
not less distinguished by the occasional sway of despotism or
faction than by the alternate predominance, and consequent
persecutions, of two conflicting churches, he held uninter-
ruptedly the highest offices in the state, under the protection
of a happy medium of royal favour, which appears not at
any time either to have increased or abated. This was not
good fortune. It seems to have been the simple result of a
sincere loyalty; of a sagacity which confined itself to its
proper objects ; and of a zeal in the public service wholly
uninfluenced by ambition. His life was extended far beyond
the usual age of the healthiest men, and he died in the posses-
sion of immense wealth, and of a most honest character.
The happiness of this man has been in no small measure
entailed on his numerous posterity, for the axe has never yet
reeked with the blood of a Powlett, nor have their estates in
any instance fallen under the scourge of attainder.

He was the eldest of the three sons of Sir John Powlett,
Knight of the Bath, heir male of the second line of a noble
family, originally from Picardy, which in the thirteenth
century acquired the Lordship of Powlett, Poulet, or Paulet

62 WILLIAM POWLETT,

in Somersetshire, and afterwards used that surname, by Eli-
zabeth, daughter to Sir William Poulet, of Hinton St. George,
in the same county, who represented the elder, and whose
posterity has been also since ennobled. He was born in the
year 1475, and it is most singular that from that period to
the fifty-eighth year of his age no genuine memorial is to be
found even of one solitary fact of his intermediate life. Naunton
alone, speaking of him and of the then Earl of Pembroke
tells us generally that " they were both younger brothers,"
(a mistake, as we have just now seen, with respect to Powlett,)
" yet of noble houses, and spent what was left them and
came on trust to the Court, where, upon the bare stock of
their wits, they began to traffic for themselves, and prospered
so well that they got, spent, and left more than any subjects
from the Norman conquest to their own times." In 1533
then we first meet with him, at that time a knight, in the
office of Comptroller of the King's household ; and in the
following year, as Lord Herbert informs us, he was joined in
commission with three of Henry's most highly trusted ser-
vants to accompany and assist the Duke of Norfolk, who was
then despatched to Marseilles, by the desire of Francis the
First, to attend an interview of that monarch with Pope
Clement the Seventh.

In 1538 he was appointed Treasurer of the Household,
and by a patent of the ninth of March, 1539, was raised to
the Peerage by the title of Baron St. John of Basing, in
Hants, an estate which he derived from the marriage of an
ancestor with a co-heir of the House of Poynings, in which
that Barony had been formerly vested. On this domain he
erected a magnificent seat, and here Naunton, in asserting
that he " had spent what was left him," is again in error.
On the establishment of the Court of Wards and Liveries in
1540, he was placed in the important office of Master, and in
the succeeding year received the Order of the Garter. We
find his name in the number of executors of Henry's will,
and of the Council of guardians appointed by it for the

FIRST MARQUIS OF WINCHESTER. C3

infant successor. He now rose with the rapidity almost
peculiar to favourites, a class to which he certainly never
belonged. On the nineteenth of January, 1549, he was cre-
ated Earl of Wiltshire ; was presently after appointed Lord
High Treasurer ; and on the twelfth of October, 1551, ele-
vated to the dignity of Marquis of Winchester. In the same
year he presided as Lord High Steward on the trial of the
Protector Duke of Somerset, to whose now crushed influence
he had probably owed his lately-acquired distinctions.

In the brief struggle for the succession to the throne after
Edward's death, he espoused Mary's title with courage and
frankness. With this disposition, together perhaps with an
acquiescence which it has been hinted that he too readily and
suddenly professed in the religious faith of that Princess, it
is not strange that he should have continued to possess her
favour, and his high office, during her reign. The insinuation,
however, of this courtly sacrifice of conscience rests solely
on a few careless words of Sir Robert Naunton, whom we
have already twice convicted of misrepresenting this great
man. Naunton merely says, again coupling Pembroke with the
Marquis, " that they two were always of the King's religion,
and over-zealous professors." Certainly neither a partiality
to Mary, nor to her religion, was likely to recommend him to
Elizabeth, yet she left him undisturbed in the possession of
his post of Lord Treasurer till his death ; and from this, and
indeed from all considerations which the very scanty par-
ticulars that we have of him may authorize us to form, we
may draw an inference more satisfactory than we frequently
obtain from direct historical report, that he was an able, a
faithful, and altogether worthy public servant, whose memory
derives a higher credit from the silence of detraction than it
might have acquired from that probably qualified and doubt-
ful eulogy which history has denied to his character.

It is true that his long continuance in office has been
ascribed to a readiness of compliance with the variety of
factions which distinguished his time ; and this charge too

64 WILLIAM POWLETT,

has arisen from an ill-natured paraphrase of Naunton's of a
favourite saying of the ancient minister which has been
eagerly transcribed into peerages, and other books of as little
biographical weight — " Being questioned," says Naunton,
" by an intimate friend of his how he stood up for thirty
years together amidst the changes and reigns of so many
chancellors and great personages : ' Why,' quoth the Mar-
quis, f ortus sum ex salice, non ex» quercu ;' 1 was made of
the pliable willow, not of the stubborn oak." Naunton had
derived the information which he thus garbled from an
eminent contemporary of his own, Sir Julius Caesar. In an
abstract made by Dr. Birch, remaining in the Museum, of an
original journal kept by that statesman during almost the
whole of his long life, we find the following entry :—

" Late supping I forbear ;
Wine and women I forswear;
My neck and feet I keep from cold ;
No marvel then though I he old.
I am a willow, not an oak ;
I chide, but never hurt with stroke."

" This," continues Sir Julius, " was the answer of my god-
father, William Poulet, Knt., Lord St. John, Earl of Wilt-
shire, Marquis of Winchester, Lord High Treasurer of Eng-
land, being demanded by an inward friend how he had lived
in the times of seven monarchs,in all times of his life increasing
in greatness of honour and preferment." Thus the Marquis
tells us in the first four lines the means by which he had
attained to a very old age ; and in the two last, how he had
maintained himself in his public stations in times of great
diificulty — " I corrected mildly, says he, with a willow twig,
and not with an oaken cudgel." His answer therefore refers,
not to the practice of submission, but to the exercise of
authority.

A few original letters, all on the same subject, and that
little connected with history, and less with biography, from

FIRST MARQUIS OF WINCHESTER. Co

this nobleman to an office of the Royal Household, are pre-
served in the Museum. I will however close these meagre
notices with a transcript of one of them, not only because I
believe that we have at present no published example of his
pen, but for the somewhat curious intelligence which it
affords of the difficulties and terrors to which the Court, and
even the Monarch, were then exposed during the visitations
of pestilence.

" I comend me hartely to you, and think that the Quene's
Ma'* hath don verry well to proge the Plyament to Octobr
xii monethes, & to adjorne the Term to Hillary next. The
Excheqwer, & the receit, wilbe well kept in Syon, and for
the triall of that I have sent ; and at Shene the Courts of the
Wards and of the Duchy may be well kept, yf Mr. Sakvile
can be so plesed (wherof I dout, because he hath no oder
lodging ny t'hand out of London) to whom I have writen, and
shall have aunsr. from him w.' spede, and upon his auns! I
shall returne you pfit knolege in all that mattf I think no
howse of the Quene's about London w'!'in xii mylles meet for
her Grace's access to before the feast of All Saints : then I
note you these howses after wrighten, to serve if need requier
— Hatfeld ; Grafton ; the Moore ; Woodstok ; Langley, no
good wyntter howse and yet my Ladye's of Warwycke for
tearme of lyfe. Homewards from Langley I cannot bring the
Quene but by Reding, and by Newberie, where they die,
wherin may be great perell, more than I wishe shold be. I
think her Ma" best were where her Highnes now is, in
Wyndsore, if helthe there contenewe, though the howse be
cowlde, \vc.h may be holpen w1!' good fyers ; and if her
Highnes shalbe forced to remove, as God forbid, I think then
best the Howsehold be put to bowrde wages, and certyne of
the Covvnsell appoynted to wayte, and herselfe to repayre to
Otland, where her M'f may remayne well, if no greate resort
be made to the howse, and by this doinge the perell of all
removes shalbe taken away, & the great charge that therof

II. F

06 WILLIAM POWLETT, FIRST MARQUIS OF WINCHESTER.

followeith. And there is at hand Hampton Cowrt, Rich-
mond and Eltome ; large howses for romes, and good ayre ;
& nowe colde wether and frostes will bring helthe, w"!1 God
helpe. The rest of the howses the surveyor can name you.
Westm1 the xxiii daye of Septembre, 1563.

Yor. loving frend,

WINCHESTER."

The Marquis died on the tenth of March, 1572, at the age
of ninety-seven, " having seen," says Camden, " one hundred
and three persons that were descended from him." He had
been twice married, and by his first lady, Elizabeth, daughter
of Sir William Capel, had four sons, and as many daughters.
John, who succeeded to his honours, and was ancestor of the
extinct Dukes of Bolton, and the present Marquis of Win-
chester ; Thomas ; Chedioke ; and Giles. The daughters
were Alice, married to Richard Stowell, of Cotherston, in the
county of Somerset ; Margaret, to Sir William Berkely ; Mar-
gery, to Richard Waller, of Oldstoke, in Bucks ; and Eleanor,
to Sir Richard Pecksall. His second Marchioness was Wini-
fred, daughter of Sir John Bruges, an Alderman of London,
and relict of the wealthy Sir Richard Sackville. By her he
had no issue.

MA&T

SIR WILLIAM MAITLAND,

OF LETHINOTON.

THIS was the eminent person whom Camden, and several
other writers, in treating of the affairs of Scotland in his
time, designate by the appellation of " Lidington," a corrup-
tion of " Lethington," the denomination of his estate, by
which, according to the usage of his countiy, he was com-
monly called. In an age when his native realm was not
more distinguished by bravery in war than by ignorance of
the arts of government, he stood alone a most profound and
subtle politician. He was the eldest son of Sir Richard Mait-
land, of Lethington, by Mary, daughter of Sir Thomas Cran-
stoun, and was heir to a large patrimony ; but the peculiar
character of his mind unfitted him for the enjoyment not
only of the simple comforts but of the proudest distinctions
of private life. Stratagem and secrecy were the darling
objects of his study, nor was ambition wanting to spur him
on to the constant exertion of those inclinations. He had
appeared at an early age in the court of the Queen Regent,
Mary of Guise, widow of James the Fifth, where he gave
such proofs of his talents for the management of public
affairs, that in 1558 she chose him for her principal secretary.
It was towards the close of that year that she declared her
resolution to oppose the progress of the Reformation in Scot-
land, and in the winter of the following, Maitland, who, in
addition to being a protestant, had disgusted her by contra-
dicting the counsels of the French by whom she was sur-
F 2

68 SIR WILLIAM MAITLAND,

rounded, withdrew himself from her service, and joined the
Lords of the Congregation, as the leaders of the Reformers
began now to be called, by whom he was despatched to
London to implore the aid of Elizabeth to a cause which they
were endeavouring, with various success, to support by force
of arms. The request was gladly granted : the Duke of Nor-
folk was deputed to Berwick, to negotiate on the part of his
mistress with the congregation ; and a treaty, for which Mait-
land was a commissioner, was concluded in that town on the
twenty-seventh of February, 1559, O.S. In the ensuing
spring Elizabeth sent a fleet and army to Scotland, and her
interference presently turned the scale in favour of the
reformers. The remarkable siege of Leith ; the consequent
treaty of Edinburgh ; and the death of the Queen Regent ;
were events which succeeded within a very few months :
they were speedily followed by the departure of Francis the
Second of France, and the arrival of his widow, the beaute-
ous and ill-fated Mary Stuart, to mount the throne of her
ancestors.

The commencement of her reign was distinguished by
studied concessions to the protestants. She restored Maitland
to the post of secretary ; but the favour, which perhaps was
thus bestowed on him through policy, soon found stronger
motives in her discovery of the perfection of his talents for
that office, and in the effect of an infinite address with which
he had successfully sought to cultivate her personal esteem.
He became a favourite, and had for a long time the singular
good fortune to enjoy at once the unlimited confidence of the
crown and of the people. The difficulty of Mary's affairs
with England was necessarily the first object of her attention,
and to him alone she intrusted the management of them.
Soon after her accession she sent him ambassador to
Elizabeth, with whom he had to treat on that most delicate
subject, the pretensions of his mistress to the inheritance of
the English throne. To those who have studied Elizabeth's
character it is needless to say that such a mission must have

OF LETHINGTON. C9

been unsuccessful, but the ability which he displayed in it,
and the penetration of his views of the policy and characters
of her ministers, convinced Mary that she had not erred in
her choice. She despatched him therefore again, in 1563, to
press Elizabeth to a personal interview with her, in the North
of England, and he again failed. On his return he found the
Queen persecuted by a church more intolerant, and more
perilous to the interest^ of princes who denied its doctrines,
than that of Rome. The leaders of that infant schism which
had then assumed the name of the Kirk, not only sought to
deny to Mary the private exercise of her own religion, but
were inculcating with vehemence the right of the people to
resist their rulers. Maitland, artfully avoiding the former
topic, attacked the succeeding position in the general assem-
bly with admirable skill and eloquence, and concluded by
accusing the notorious Knox of sedition. A debate ensued,
the reputation of which is yet cherished by the Scots of either
persuasion : " It admirably displayed," says the accurate and
elegant Robertson, " the talents and character of both the
disputants ; the acuteness of Maitland, embellished with
learning, but prone to subtlety ; the vigorous understanding
of Knox, delighting in bold sentiments, and superior to all
fear."

In the spring of 1565, he was once more sent to London,
to solicit the consent of Elizabeth to Mary's marriage with
Darnley. It was refused, and he returned to Scotland with Sir
Nicholas Throckmorton, whom Elizabeth instantly despatched
thither to protest against it in her name. Mary, enraged at
this answer to a message which she had intended as little
more than a compliment, sent orders to Maitland, when on
his way to her court, to return without delay to London ; to
reproach Elizabeth with malice and duplicity ; and to declare
that his mistress was now determined that she would suffer
no opinion but that of her own subjects to interfere with her
choice. Maitland disobeyed, and repaired to her presence ;
convinced her of the evils likely to arise from so rude and

70 SIR WILLIAM MAITLAND,

rash a defiance ; and received her pardon and her thanks. At
this period commenced the follies, the crimes, and the miseries,
of the unhappy Mary. In the deliberations on her future
fate, held during her imprisonment in Lochleven Castle, in
1567, he exerted himself to the utmost to save to her, under
certain restrictions, the possession of the Crown ; and when
the Earl of Murray, lately appointed Regent, was summoned
by Elizabeth in the following year to meet her commissioners
at York, and justify the deposition of his Sovereign, Maitland,
who was too firm a friend to her cause to be left with safety
in Scotland, was unwillingly admitted by him into the
number of his assistants.

The Duke of Norfolk was placed at the head of Elizabeth's
commission, and it was during the progress of this mighty
inquiry that the first steps were taken in that project for his
marriage with the Queen of Scots, which in the end cost him
his life. To Maitland, as the most firm adherent to Mary,
and perhaps the most acute man in Scotland, he first opened
his design. The secretary received it with the warmest appro-
bation, and presently invested it with the form and substance
of a profound plan of policy. It was communicated with
caution to the Regent ; negotiations were privately com-
menced in England to secure to it the countenance of the most
powerful among the nobility ; the great business at York was
interrupted, and its method changed, by means unknown to
the rest of those intrusted to conduct it ; and Elizabeth for
a time saw herself in danger of disappointment, without
being able to divine the cause. A matter, however, divulged
to so many could not be long concealed from her. Murray,
to whom of all others it was least likely to be beneficial, pro-
bably betrayed it to her soon after his return to Scotland,
where Maitland, undismayed by the failure of one plan to
undermine the Regent's authority, and weaken his party, now
struck out with renewed vigour into the execution of others.
No longer employed in the government, and odious to the
ruling faction, he retired into Perth, to the seat of the Earl

OF LETHINGTOX. 7l

of Athol, a devoted supporter of Mary's interests, from whence
he negotiated, by his emissaries, with Murray's friends, and
seduced several from their adherence to him. The Regent
at length foresaw in Maitland's liberty the extinction of his
own power, and, having decoyed him to Stirling, procured a
retainer of the Earl of Lenox to accuse him to the Privy
Council of being a party in the murder of Darnley. He was
sent in the autumn of 1569 a prisoner to Edinburgh, where
Kirkaldy of Grange, who was governor of the castle, a person
deeply concerned in the most remarkable public transactions
of his time, and one of those whom Maitland had secretly
gained over to the Queen's party, detached him, as it is said
by counterfeiting Murray's signature to a warrant, from the
persons to whose charge he had been committed, and took
him into his own custody in the castle. This friendly aid
prevented his being brought to an immediate trial, the fatal
issue to him of which was evident ; and Murray, who for
some private reasons suffered Kirkaldy's conduct to pass
unresented, was within a few weeks after assassinated by a
private enemy.

Maitland was acquitted by a provisional council of nobles
who had assembled to elect a Regent, and, on regaining his
freedom, again plunged instantly into the political confusion
of the state. He now laboured to accomplish a junction of
the two contending factions, and at length, hopeless of restor-
ing Mary to the plenitude of her regal power, proposed that
she should be admitted to the sovereignty jointly with her
infant son, who, on her deposition, had been placed on the
vacant throne. To this end he, in concert with Kirkaidy,
procured a conference between the leaders of the hostile
parties, which broke up in tumultuous indecision. It was a
critical hour for Maitland. He found himself obliged to
declare openly for the Queen, or for her son, and with little
deliberation, because the circumstances of the time scarcely
any, at length appeared publicly for the
former, anch^^d in issuing a proclamation, asserting her

!

• i_;j:rv/wi i

A

72 SIR WILLIAM MAITLAND,

authority in bold and explicit terms. In the mean time the
Earl of Lenox, father of the murdered Darnley, was chosen
Regent by the opposite party, aided by the influence of
Elizabeth, and one of the first acts of his authority was to
deprive Maitland of the office of secretary, and to proclaim
him a traitor. The rage of contention was now at the highest
pitch : each party had an army under the walls of Edinburgh,
and each, at the same time, held a Parliament, the one in
that city, the other at Stirling : the assembly which acted
under that title on the behalf of the King, in spite of Kirkaldy,
who was not only governor of the castle, but provost of the
town, passed an act of attainder against many of its oppo-
nents, in which Maitland was included.

These matters occurred in 1570, and the succeeding year
(towards the close of which the regent Lenox was killed at
Stirling in a furious and romantic surprise of that town by
Kirkaldy), the Earl of Mar, a nobleman of excellent character,
whose endeavours to promote concord had procured him
universal esteem, was chosen by the King's adherents to
succeed him. In that spirit he opened a treaty with Mait-
land and Kirkaldy, in which all the parties seem to have
been actuated by a sincere desire to heal the wounds of their
country, and it was on the point of conclusion when the
subtle and unprincipled ambition of the Earl of Morton
rendered it abortive. Morton, a bitter enemy to Maiy, a
purchased friend to Elizabeth, and a disappointed candidate
for the regency, at length obtained that office on the twenty-
ninth of October, 1572, on the demise of Mar, who is said to
have died of a broken heart. He held Maitland in the utmost
abhorrence, but a secret wish to separate more widely the
Queen's party, which was already somewhat disunited,
induced him to renew with Maitland and his friends the
negotiation which himself had interrupted with Mar. Mait-
land was then deeply engaged in forming a plan for the
escape of his mistress from the captivity in which the fears
and the injustice of Elizabeth had so long retained her. He

OF LETHINGTON. 73

agreed to the treaty with the view of making it subservient to
his design, but Morton, his rival in subtlety and penetration,
as well as in the love of political rule, discovered his motive,
and determined on his ruin. Maitland now shut himself up
with Kirkaldy in the castle of Edinburgh, to which Morton,
with the aid of English troops, laid close siege, and after
prodigies of valour performed by the gallant defenders,
reduced it on the twenty-ninth of May, 1573. Kirkaldy and
Maitland surrendered to Sir William Drury, who commanded
Elizabeth's troops, under a solemn engagement that their lives
should be spared ; but the former was shortly after hanged at
the Cross in Edinburgh ; and Maitland, who could found no
hope of mercy but on his share in a promise already so scan-
dalously broken, is said to have died by his own hand on the
ninth of the succeeding month.

The political conduct of this extraordinary person has
usually been taxed, it is difficult to discover on what grounds,
with a selfish and sordid versatility. He appears, on the
contrary, to have been the only public man of his countiy
who remained invariably attached to the interests of Mary.
Archbishop Spotswood, a warm friend to the contrary party,
says, " A man he was of deep wit, great experience, and one
whose counsels were held in that time for oracles ; but varia-
ble and inconstant ; turning and changing from one faction
to another, as he thought it to make for his standing. This
did greatly diminish his reputation, and failed him at last,"
&c. Dr. Robertson, in the following passage, gives us his
character probably with more candour — " Maitland had early
applied to public business admirable natural talents, im-
proved by an acquaintance with the liberal arts ; and at a
time of life when his countrymen of the same quality were
following the pleasures of the chase, or serving as adventurers
in the armies of France, he was admitted into all the secrets
of the cabinet, and put upon a level with persons of the most
consummate experience in the management of affairs. He
possessed in an eminent degree that intrepid spirit which

74 SIR WILLIAM MAITLAND, OF LETIIINGTON.

delights in pursuing bold designs, and was no less master of
that political dexterity which is necessary for carrying them
on with success : but these qualities were deeply tinctured
with the neighbouring vices : his address degenerated some-
times into cunning ; his acuteness bordered upon excess ;
his invention, over fertile, suggested to him on some occasions
chimerical systems of policy too refined for the genius of his
age or country ; and his enterprising spirit engaged him in
projects vast and splendid, but beyond his utmost power to
execute. All the contemporary writers, to whatever faction
they belong, mention him with an admiration which nothing
could have excited but the greatest superiority of penetration
and abilities."

Sir William Maitland was twice married ; first to Janet
Menteth, by whom he had no issue ; secondly, to Mary,
daughter of Malcomb, third Lord Fleming, who brought him
an only son, James, in whom this line of the family became
extinct. From Sir John Maitland, next and younger brother
to the subject of the preceding sketch, who attained to the
office of High Chancellor of Scotland, and was created Lord
Maitland by James the Sixth, the Earls of Lauderdale are
descended.

Ketel pinx.

'£S HA':.

EARL OF ARRAN,

DUKE OF CHATELHEEAITLT.

OB, 1574.

JAMES HAMILTON,

EARI OF ARRAN, DUKE OF CHATELHERAULT.

THIS illustrious personage, whom a respect chiefly to high
blood, unblemished integrity, and an amiable disposition,
tended to place in the supreme government of his country at
an epoch when it called for the rule of a politician at once
subtle and daring, and perhaps capable even of relaxing oc-
casionally from the strictness of just moral principles, was
the eldest son of James, the first Earl of Arran of his family,
by his third wife, Janet, daughter of Sir David Beatoun,
Comptroller of Scotland. His grandfather was James, second
Baron Hamilton, and his grandmother the Princess Mary,
eldest daughter to King James the Second of Scotland, on
whose first husband, Thomas Boyd, the Earldom of Arran,
afterwards granted to the issue of her second marriage, had
been conferred.

He succeeded to his father's dignities and great estates in
1529, and had lived for several years in as much privacy as
his rank could allow, when the untimely death of James the
Fifth, in 1542, a few days before the birth of his only child,
afterwards the celebrated Mary, demanded the immediate
appointment of a Regent. Competitors were not wanting.
Mary of Guise, the Queen Dowager, who was by no means
deficient in the ambition which distinguished her family,
preferred a claim then of little hope, and Cardinal Beatoun,
in addition to the pretensions founded on his great talents

76 JAMES HAMILTON,

and long experience in public affairs, produced a will of
doubtful authenticity, which he affirmed was left by the de-
ceased King, and in which he was expressly designated to
that high office. The nobility, however, utterly averse on the
one hand to the rule of a foreigner, and equally jealous on the
other of a churchman, not only entirely, devoted to the Papal
See but of the most haughty and aspiring character, deter-
mined to offer it to Arran, who was in fact presumptive heir
to the throne, through the descent above stated, and he ac-
cepted it, but not without hesitation.

The period of this election, which took place at the close
of the year 1542, was perhaps the most important and critical
to be found in the history of Scotland. Henry, whose influ-
ence in that country was before very formidable, considered
the simultaneous events of his terrible victory at Solway
Moss, the death of the King, and the succession of an infant
in the cradle, as sure pledges of his future sovereignty. He
commenced a treaty of peace with the Scots in the spirit of
a conqueror and a tyrant, demanding not only that the royal
babe should be betrothed to his son, Prince Edward, but
that her person should be placed in his custody, and the
government of her realm committed to his charge during her
nonage. To these arbitrary and degrading conditions Arran
would cheerfully have submitted, nor had Henry neglected
to conciliate him by the most splendid temptations, among
which was the offer of the Princess Elizabeth's hand to his
eldest son, but the spirit of the nation was bursting into a
flame, and, as it kindled, the resolution of the Regent failed.
A treaty however was concluded, the terms of which, though
considerably softened as to the points which were most
odious, were still esteemed to be unreasonably partial to the
English interest. Beatoun, whom the Regent had lately
for a time imprisoned, to prevent his resistance to the nego-
tiation, and had liberated towards its conclusion, publicly
condemned it with the utmost exertions of that powerful
understanding and undaunted courage for which he was re-

EARL OF AllRAX, DUKE OF CIIATELIIERAULT. 77

markable ; and augmented, and skilfully arrayed, the party
of the disapproving nobles and clergy : meanwhile the Abbot
of Paisley, Arran's natural brother, a staunch supporter of
the Papacy, and an earnest friend to the French influence in
Scotland, privately practised on his hopes and his fears, with
no other effect however than confirming, if it may be so said,
his irresolution. In this distracted state of mind, on the
twenty-fifth of August, 1543, he signed a ratification of the
treaty with England ; and on the third of the succeeding
month, in a secret meeting with the Cardinal, pledged him-
self to do his utmost to render it ineffectual, and to devote
himself to the support of the interests of France.

Nor was more consistency to be found in his religious
principles. The reformation in Scotland had owed much to
his encouragement : he had professed that faith even with
zeal ; forwarded a bill in the Parliament to allow the trans-
lation of the Scriptures ; and more than one of the most emi-
nent protestant preachers of the country lived in his family.
Yet, through the persuasions and the threats of the Cardinal,
he publicly abjured it in the winter of this year in the Fran-
ciscan church at Stirling. These miserable vacillations ren-
dered him the object at once of domestic and foreign attacks.
The Earl of Lenox, descended also from the same royal stock,
was inclined to dispute with him for the Regency, and ac-
tually raised troops with which he marched to Edinburgh
for that purpose ; but while Beatoun craftily amused Lenox
with negotiation, the most part of his army dwindled away,
and the remnant was routed in the field. Henry, on the other
hand, enraged beyond measure, made a furious inroad into
Scotland ; Arran implored and obtained the aid of France ;
and, while these matters were passing, the Cardinal, whom
circumstances had rendered his chief adviser, as well as his
most formidable rival, was taken off by a foul assassination
in his castle of St. Andrew's, where he had for some time
detained the Regent's heir, as an hostage for the father's sub-
mission to his will. To regain that young nobleman, as well

78 JAMES HAMILTON,

as to make a decent show of resentment towards the
murderers of the Cardinal, whom however he had secretly
hated, the Regent ineffectually besieged the castle for five
months, when a treaty ensued, in which neither party was
sincere. The assassins engaged to restore his son, and to
surrender the castle, on his procuring for them from the
Pope an absolution of the murder, and from the Parliament
a pardon ; in the mean time they were secretly supported
by Henry, to whom they had promised that they would
resist to the last extremity ; while the Regent, on his part,
had applied to France for more skilful military aid than Scot-
land then possessed, for the purpose of reducing them, which
in fact occurred soon after its arrival.

Before the conclusion of this siege Henry expired. His
death was the signal for a war, which perhaps he himself had
meditated. The demand which he had sternly made of the
young Queen as a consort for his son and successor, Prince
Edward, was now as peremptorily repeated by the Protector
Somerset, in Scotland, and at the head of a powerful army.
It was rejected, even with disdain, for the anger of the
Scottish nobility was raised to the highest pitch by this out-
rage, and the Regent joined them with an air of firmness and
decision secretly dictated by his engagements to France.
The terrible overthrow at Musselburgh which succeeded on
the tenth of September, 1547, seemed to render a strict alliance
with that country even necessary to the preservation of any de-
gree of Scottish independence ; the nation readily claimed its
protection ; and England, in gaining a signal victory, defeated
the very object for which she had fought. The Regent now,
with almost general approbation, not only offered the hand of the
infant Mary to the Dauphin, afterwards Francis the Second,
but proposed that she should be immediately sent to the
Court of Paris, to receive her education under the direction
of the King, who, on his part, engaged to assist Scotland with
a powerful military force. A treaty to these, and other
effects was concluded early in the spring of 1548, and France

EARL OF ARRAN, DUKE OF CHATELHERAULT. 79

obtained, through concessions purely gratuitous, all that
England had lately sued and fought for in vain. The French
King overwhelmed the Scots with proofs of his gratitude,
and Arran himself, with his usual imprudence, accepted from
him the title of Duke of Chatelherault, and a pension of
thirty thousand livres, together with the order of St. Michael,
the collar of which appears on the portrait before us.

The army promised by Henry the Second of France arrived
goon after in Scotland, but Somerset, whose power was now
jn the wane, was unable to undertake another invasion, and
his great rival Dudley, on succeeding to the government of
England, resolved to make a peace with the Scots. The
treaty for that purpose renounced in express terms the claim
of the marriage, and was in all other respects so favourable
to the wishes of Scotland, that no doubt could be reasonably
entertained of a repose of some years ; the French troops
were therefore re-embarked. Peace however produced its
usual consequences in Scotland, a revival of intrigues and
factions. The Queen Dowager, availing herself of the newly
established amity and intercourse with France, laid plans to
possess herself of the Regency. Since the death of the Car-
dinal, she had engaged in the direction of the state with
increasing boldness and assiduity, and the patience with
which the Duke allowed her interference, and listened to her
dictates, suggested to her a strong hope that he might be
induced to a voluntary resignation. The deficiencies of his
nature, which were too glaring to be concealed, and the ill suc-
cess of his measures, had gradually rendered him unpopular,
while Mary had laboured, and with considerable effect, to
gain the good opinion of the country, nor had she neglected
to aggravate the prejudices conceived against him. Having
matured her scheme, aided by the counsel of her own aspiring
family, to obtain which she made a visit to Paris, she pre-
vailed on Sir Robert Carnegy and David Panter, Bishop of
Ross, two of his chief advisers, whom she had gained to her
interest, to make the overture to him in the name of the

80 JAMES HAMILTON,

King of France. These persons, who well knew how to
address themselves to his foibles, terrified him with threats
of the resentment of that Monarch, as well as of the Queen
Dowager, and represented to him with the utmost force her
popularity and power, and the disgust which the late public
misfortunes had inspired against his rule. On the other
hand, they promised him, as the price of his resignation, the
settlement by France of his dukedom on his heirs ; a splendid
increase of his pension ; and a declaration by Parliament of
his right to succeed to the Throne, and of a favourable allow-
ance of his conduct in the Regency. He gave way, almost
without hesitation, and Mary had arrived from France to
take the reins of government, when an obstacle to her views,
perhaps not wholly unforeseen, presented itself. His brother,
late Abbot of Paisley, who had been raised by him to the
primacy on the death of the Cardinal, lay during this singular
negotiation in the utmost extremity of illness. Suddenly
recovered, he flew to the Court, and, with equal judgment
and spirit, for he possessed most of the qualities of mind
which his brother wanted, exhorted him to retract, and for
the time prevailed. Mary however was firm. She employed
once more every engine of art and power, and at length
carried her point by adding to them the command of the
young Queen, who was now nearly twelve years old. The
perseverance of the Archbishop caused a delay of several
months, but in the spring of 1554 the Duke finally resigned,
and the Queen Dowager assumed the Regency.

He was doomed however to be restrained during a long
life by the cumbrous dignity of his birth from the enjoyment
of that privacy for which his nature, and perhaps his incli-
nation, had best fitted him. In the arrangements for the
royal marriage, a gross fraud had been practised to defeat the
inheritance of the house of Hamilton. While the Scottish
Parliament, in professed concert with the Court of France,
had manifested on that occasion a laudable caution in ex-
plaining and establishing the rights of the Duke as presump-

EARL OF AKRAN, DUKE OF CHATELHERAULT. 81

tive heir to the Throne, the young Queen had been compelled
by her uncles, the Princes of Lorrain, with the concurrence
of Henry the Second, to sign secretly certain instruments by
which she settled the Crown of Scotland, in default of issue
from herself, upon the heirs in succession to that of France,
and declared that any other disposition of it made, or to be
made, by her might be esteemed as extorted, and therefore
void. The discovery, or the suspicion, of this iniquitous
proceeding, especially as it was immediately followed by an
act of the Scottish Parliament conferring on the Dauphin for
life an equal partnership in the Sovereignty, and in the case
of his surviving the Queen, the whole, together with the title
of King of Scotland, roused the Duke's indolent spirit, and
induced him to attach himself to a party which readily
elected him its nominal leader. The heads of the reformers,
to whom their followers had lately given the title of " Lords
of the Congregation," indignant at deceptions which had been
practised on them by the Queen Regent, were now arrayed
in firm opposition to her measures, or, in other words, to the
French interest, and he joined them with some show of ardour.
Instigated as much by the artifices of Elizabeth, who had of
late mounted the English Throne, as by their own resent-
ment, they appeared in arms in 1559 ; and having appointed
him their General, proclaimed the deposition of the Queen
Regent. The eminent success which in the end crowned the
efforts of this faction was then but dawning ; the checks and
impediments which seldom fail to attend the commencement
of great public changes filled the Duke with doubts and
terrors ; and he seized the first favourable opportunity
of retreating from the too arduous service which he had
unwarily undertaken.

The resentment of France invaded his retirement. He
was deprived of his pension, and his Dukedom was threat-
ened ; but a greater evil seemed to be approaching. Mary,
now a widow, had returned to Scotland, and mounted a
throne which she unhappily resolved to partake with Darnley ;

84 JAMES HAMILTON,

he had credit, he marched in person to Hamilton, at the head
of three hundred horse, and, seizing the most precious rem-
nants of the Duke's plate, and other moveables, which had
heen saved from the late devastation, sold them publicly at the
Market Cross of Linlithgow. Early in the ensuing year, he
brought the Archbishop of St. Andrews, who had fallen into
his hands by the surrender of Dunbarton Castle, in which he
had taken refuge, to a nominal trial for high treason, in the
issue of which he was, with scandalous partiality, condemned
to be hanged.

The execution of this sentence, more especially as he was
the first prelate who had ever suffered death in Scotland
through a form of justice, enraged the dependents of his
family almost to madness, and indeed offended the whole
body of the people. The Queen's party took advantage of
this disposition ; and the Duke, with other noblemen who
were staunch to her interest, took possession of the capital
with an armed force, and on the twelfth of June, 1571, called
a Parliament, in which her authority was implicitly recognised.
Lenox, on the other hand, had his Parliament at Stirling,
which denounced the Duke, and almost the whole house of
Hamilton, as traitors, and declared their estates forfeited.
Horrible disorders followed. The Queen's friends surprised
Stirling, and Lenox fell in the tumult. The Earl of Mar,
his successor, died about a year after his appointment ; and
the dark, ambitious, and treacherous Morton was at length
elected to the Regency. Morton, the Duke's near relation
by marriage, who was distinguished by a cold and calculating
policy, wholly free from the influence of any passion, applied
himself to the natural defects of the Duke's character, and
the increasing infirmities of his age. Affecting to bury all
causes of discord in oblivion, and to pay the most profound
respect to his adversary's high birth and honourable motives,
he simply proposed a treaty, the terms of which comprehended
every provision that the Duke himself could have devised for
the security of his person and interests. It was eagerly

EARL OF ARRAN, DUKE OF CHATELHERAULT. 85

accepted by him, and was ratified at Perth on the twenty-
third of February, 1573, N. S., and on the twenty-second of
January, in the following year, he expired at his Palace of
Hamilton.

The Duke of Chatelherault married Margaret, eldest
daughter of James Douglas, third Earl of Morton, by whom
he had issue James, third Earl of Arran ; John, created Mar-
quis of Hamilton ; David, who died childless ; Claud, ancestor
of the Earls and Marquisses of Abercorn : and four daughters ;
Barbara, married to James Lord Fleming ; Margaret, to
Alexander Lord Gordon, eldest son of George, fourth Earl of
Huntly ; Anne, to George, fifth Earl of Huntly ; and Jane,
to Hugh Montgomery, third Earl of Eglingtoun.

MATTHEW PARKER,

ARCHBISHOP OP CANTERBURY.

THE Church of England owes perhaps more to this wise
and good man than to any of the reformers who preceded
him, and who may have left a higher fame. They razed to
the foundation the vast and venerable edifice of the ancient
religion, and hastily erected in its stead a pile of discordant
materials, without strength or symmetry ; he cemented the
unconnected parts, smoothed irregularities, and supplied defi-
ciencies. They were the slaves of a furious and interested
tyrant, and of their own yet baser interests ; he the honest
and incorrupt servant of a prudent sovereign, and the faithful
minister of Christianity. They had incurred the suspicion of
many by eagerly adopting a new system of faith ; he gained
the confidence of all by strenuously supporting that in which
he had been bred. Their career had been marked by force
and persecution ; his was distinguished by patience and
benignity.

He was born in the parish of St. Saviour, in Norwich, on
the sixth of August, 1504, eldest of the three sons of William
Parker, a citizen and woollen manufacturer of that town, but
of a gentleman's family, or, in other words, of a family bear-
ing armorial ensigns. His mother was Alice, a descendant
from the respectable house of Monyns, of Suffolk and Kent.
He was well educated for the clerical profession, first in his
father's house, and afterwards in the University of Cam-

88 ARCHBISHOP PARKER.

bridge, where he was admitted in September, 1522, and on
the twentieth of the ensuing March was chosen a scholar of
Bene't, now Corpus Christi College, a foundation which
offered some peculiar advantages to young men born in his
city. He remained at Cambridge for twelve years ; took the
degree of bachelor of arts in 1525, and in 1527 was ordained
deacon and priest, elected a fellow of his college, and created
master of arts. It is almost needless to observe that the
universities at that period ostensibly submitted themselves to
the doctrines and the discipline of the Church of Rome ; but
the Reformation was dawning, and Parker was one of many
Protestant divines, afterwards of great eminence, who met,
with little more secrecy than was required by mere decorum,
to pave the way for its progress. This disposition, joined to
the fame which he had acquired, not only for his talents and
erudition, but as an admirable preacher, attracted the notice
of the court, and in 1535 he was suddenly and unexpectedly
summoned thither, to take on himself the office of a domestic
chaplain to Anne Boleyn, by whom he was soon after presented
to the deanery of the college of Stoke Clare, in Suffolk.

After the death of that unfortunate lady, he was retained
by Henry as one of his own chaplains. In 1538 he took the
degree of doctor in divinity; in 1541 obtained a prebend of
Ely, and a rectory in that diocese ; and in 1544 was elected
master of Bene't College, and soon after Vice-Chancellor of
the University, which office he served again in the year 1547.
Under Edward the Sixth he was appointed a prebendary of
Lincoln, and in the same month, July, 1552, was elected
Dean of that church. In the following year Mary deprived
him of all his preferments, but suffered him to remain unmo-
lested in obscurity during her reign.

Elizabeth, onher accession, committed chiefly toSir Nicholas
Bacon, her Lord Keeper, and Cecil, afterwards the celebrated
Lord Burghley, the arduous task of superintending the infant
ecclesiastical establishment. The former of those great men
had been the intimate friend and fellow collegian of Parker,

ARCHBISHOP PARKER. 89

and probably first recommended him to the Queen's especial
favour ; but the raising him, without intermediate steps, to
the exalted dignity which awaited him, must have been the
result of her own judgment of his character, and of her own
private determination. The see of Canterbury had been for
nearly a year vacant, when, on the ninth of December, 1558,
Bacon signified to Parker the Queen's design to advance him
to a bishopric, which he declined. He was again and again
summoned to London by the Lord Keeper and the Secretary,
but, under various pretences, constantly refused. It is a
curious trait of the simplicity and superstition of the time that
Bacon should have ascribed, as appears by Parker's answer
to one of that minister's letters, his backwardness to a dread
inspired by a prophecy of Nostradamus ; undoubtedly, how-
ever, it arose from the modesty and humility of the man ; and
Nolo Episcopari was perhaps never in any other instance
uttered with such sincerity of heart. — " What with passing
those hard years of Mary's reign," says he, in one of his
letters to Cecil, published by Strype, " in obscurity, without
all conference, or such matter of study as now might do me
service ; and what with my natural vitiosity of overmuch
shamefacedness ; I am so abashed in myself that I cannot
raise up my heart and stomach to utter in talk with others
that which with my pen I can express indifferently without
great difficulty." At length, on the twenty-eighth of May, he
received the Queen's positive command to repair to her pre-
sence, which he obeyed, and received from her his nomina-
tion to the Primacy ; but his consecration was deferred till
the seventeenth of December, and it may be worth observing
that the private and simple manner in which that ceremony
was conducted gave occasion to a silly report, which the
Catholics industriously propagated, that it was performed at
a tavern in Cheapside. This was revived by the fanatics,
in the beginning of the grand rebellion ; great pains were
taken by some churchmen to invalidate the story of the Nag's
Head consecration, as it was called ; and they proved by

90 ARCHBISHOP PARKER.

positive evidence that it took place in the archiepiscopal
palace at Lambeth.

Parker's first care was to secure the independence of the
new hierarchy. An act had passed in the late Parliament
to enable the Queen, on the vacation of any bishopric, to
appropriate to herself such part of its temporalities as she
might choose to possess, and to give in exchange such portions
of abbey lands, or other estates vested in the Crown, as she
might deem equivalent. Convinced that no establishment
could be safe whose governors must be subject either to the
absolute control of the crown, or to the reproach of poverty, he
laboured earnestly with Elizabeth to persuade her to relin-
quish this right ; and, though she exercised it with respect to
his own see soon after he was appointed to preside in it, in a
great measure finally succeeded. He swept away gradually,
and with a gentle hand, the numerous remains of the Romish
system which yet clung to the church, and, to render his
efforts palatable to the people, began with the Queen herself.
Elizabeth, who still prostrated herself, in her chapel and in
her closet, before a crucifix, and was firmly averse to the
marriage of priests, yielded those prejudices to the arguments
of Parker. He defended the Reformation with equal zeal and
moderation in a correspondence with the ejected Catholic
Prelates, and engaged warmly with Calvin in forming a plan
for the uniformity of faith and discipline among Protestants
throughout Europe, the fruition of which was unhappily
prevented by the death of that extraordinary man, whose
fame has been unjustly sullied by the subsequent extra-
vagances of the sect which derives its name from him ;
for Calvin himself was averse neither to monarchy nor
episcopacy.

At length it became necessary, for the establishment of
the reformed faith, and of an ecclesiastical polity, on known
laws, to summon a synod or convocation, which met on the
twelfth of January, 1562. In that assembly Parker proposed
the thirty-nine articles which form the code of the church

ARCHBISHOP PARKER. 91

of England, and of which he may be considered in a great
measure as the author ; and they were, after the most grave
and minute deliberation, enacted. Elizabeth's second Par-
liament met on the same day, and its first employment was
to pass an act " for the assurance of the Queen's power over
all estates." This statute was peculiarly aimed at the Papal
pretensions, and the oath of supremacy, which had been
framed by the preceding Parliament, was recited in it, and
imperatively prescribed to many descriptions of persons, but
particularly to the clergy, under the penalty of a premunire
for the first refusal, and of the laws against high treason for
the second. The Archbishops and Bishops were appointed
to administer this oath to ecclesiastics ; but Parker foresaw
the misery which must follow the rigorous exaction of it,
and turned with horror from an engine which could be worked
only amidst persecution and bloodshed. He wrote, therefore,
a letter to be circulated with the utmost secrecy among his
brother prelates, to which, with much difficulty, he obtained
the Queen's consent, exhorting them not in any case to tender
the oath a second time, but, on one refusal, to leave the con-
tumacious party to be dealt with by himself. This excellent
letter concluded thus — " Praying your Lordship not to inter-
pret mine advertisement as tending to show myself a patron
for the easing of such evil-hearted subjects which, for divers of
them, do bear a perverse stomach to the purity of Christ's reli-
gion, and to the state of the realm, thus by God's providence
quietly reposed ; and which also do envy the continuance of us
all, so placed by the Queen's favour as we be ; but only in
respect of a fatherly and pastoral care, which must appear
in us, which be heads of his flocks, not to follow our private
affection and hearts, but to provide, coram Deo et hominibus,
for saving and winning of others, if it may be obtained." In
the end, through his perseverance in this merciful course, that
frightful law became nearly a dead letter, and the oath was
administered to none of the Popish prelates, or other clergy,
except the odious Bonner. Through this, and many other

92 ARCHBISHOP PARKER.

instances of moderation and beneficence towards those unfor-
tunate men, he actually acquired their love. Tonstall, and
Thirleby, the deprived Bishops of Durham and Norwich,
Boxall, late Dean of Windsor, and others, whom the Privy
Council had thought fit to commit to his custody, passed
the latter years of their lives in his houses, enjoying a tran-
quillity perhaps before unknown to them ; guests to his hos-
pitality, and prisoners only to their own gratitude.

From the Romanists, subdued by past severity and suc-
ceeding conciliation, the Church of England had now little
to dread, when from her own bosom issued a host of enemies
yet more formidable. These were the Puritans, as they were
then called, whom we have since seen split into so many
sects of various denominations. Originally without any
specific design, and animated by the simple operation of
discontent and folly, they fell furiously on the caps, and
hoods, and tippets, of the churchmen, and by an incessant
outcry, uttered in the foulest language that ever disgraced
the pulpit or the press, at length necessarily called forth the
attention of the Primate. He renewed his endeavours to
establish an uniformity of worship, and his interference
proved but the signal for new murmurs. All the exterior
decencies of devotion were reviled as remnants of popery,
and ecclesiastical property was viewed merely as the means
of supporting spiritual pride. These people had for their
chief patron the abandoned Earl of Leicester ; and the bick-
erings which followed between that unworthy favourite and
Parker tended much to embitter the remainder of the good
man's life. The Archbishop, however, in concert with some
other members of the ecclesiastical commission, composed in
1564 certain articles respecting the public administration of
the sacraments, and the apparel of the clergy, but the Privy
Council, at the instigation of Leicester, refused to confirm
them ; he was therefore obliged to publish them on his own
authority, and they were utterly disregarded. Amidst these
differences he was deeply engaged in superintending that

ARCHBISHOP PARKER, 93

edition of the Scriptures which is known by the name of the
Bishops' Bible, because he had allotted a portion to each of
the Bishops for his revisal and correction, reserving to himself
the final control over the whole.

The last ten years of this excellent prelate's life were
passed between vain endeavours to prevent the ascendancy
of the Puritans, and to ward off the blows aimed at himself
by the courtiers who supported them. Continually thwarted
in the execution of his high functions ; maligned by a multi-
plicity of libels ; his credit undermined with the people, and,
through the intrigues of Leicester and some others, failing
with the Queen ; he lived in fact under a persecution, and
was perhaps saved by death from undeserved impeachment,
or at least disgrace. Within a few weeks even before his
departure, and probably while he laboured under his last
illness, a virulent and wholly undisguised attack was made
on him, by printing a translation of the section relating to
himself, in a small history in Latin of Bene't College and its
successive Masters, preserved in manuscript in that house?
and stuffing it with the most scurrilous ribaldry in the shape
of notes. The character of this vile and vulgar publication
may be fairly inferred from its title—" The life off the 70
Archbishopp off Canterbury, presentlye settinge, englished,
and to be added to the 69 lately sett forth in Latin. This
number off seventy is so compleat a number as it is great
pitie ther shold be one more ; but that as Augustin was the
first, so Mathew might be the last." This may serve as a
specimen of the innumerable pamphlets of the same cast by
which he was about that time assailed.

Archbishop Parker had been long afflicted by the stone,
and in March, 1575, experienced a terrible attack of that
complaint, which continued for many weeks with little inter-
mission. During his illness he wrote many letters to the
Queen and Burghley on the state of the Church, with a fer-
vency which the pains of death even increased. His last
letter to the Treasurer concludes with a presage of the awful

94 ARCHBISHOP PARKER.

times which were approaching. " I am not much led," says
he, " by worldly prophecy, and yet, I cannot tell how, this
old verse recourseth oft to my head — Foemina morte cadet,
postquam terram mala tangent." He died at Lambeth, on
the seventeenth of May, and was interred in his private cha-
pel there ; but his remains were torn from their grave by the
Puritan regicide who then inhabited the archiepiscopal palace,
and, with a refinement of brutality, which has been since
imitated only by the revolutionary atheists of France, buried
in a dunghill. He married, in 1547, Margaret, daughter of
Robert Harleston, of Matsal, in Norfolk. This was the lady
to whom Elizabeth, after one of the great banquets given to
her by Parker, said, alluding to the untitled dignity of an
Archbishop's wife — " And you, Madam I may not call you,
and Mistress I am ashamed to call you ; so as I know not
what to call you, but yet I do thank you." He had by her
four sons ; John, who married, and established a family in
the county of Kent ; Matthew, who died an infant ; a second
Matthew, who also married, but left no posterity ; and Joseph,
who died a bachelor.

This prelate was profoundly learned, and his erudition
was ornamented by a zealous taste for antiquarian research.
We are indebted to him for the publication of four of our
best early English historians, Matthew of Westminster, Mat-
thew Paris, Thomas Walsingham, and Asser, whose Life of
King Alfred he printed in Saxon characters, to encourage
the study of that tongue. He published, in 1572, the lives
of his predecessors in the See of Canterbury, under the title
of " De Antiquitate Britannicse Ecclesise, et privileges Eccle-
sise Cantuarensis, cum Archiepiscopis ejusdem LXXX," most
of the copies of which want his own life ; and it is this work
that the libel lately mentioned affects to complete. Doctor
Blague, Dean of Rochester, and rector of Lambeth, and some
other learned men, are supposed to have largely assisted him
in collecting and composing it. He wrote also a Defence of
the Marriages of Priests ; and translated Jillfric's Saxon ver-

ARCHBISHOP PARKER.

sion of an ancient Latin homily, proving that the Sacrament
of the Lord's Supper was used by the Saxons. The Univer-
sity of Cambridge, and his archiepiscopal houses, afford ample
testimony of his munificence and disinterestedness. He
founded two fellowships, and ten scholarships, in Bene't
College (to the library of which he gave his invaluable col-
lection of manuscripts), and a scholarship in Trinity Hall ;
made many valuable additions to the University library, and
large presents of plate to several of the Colleges ; and repaired
and ornamented the palaces of Canterbury, Lambeth, and
Beakesborne, purchasing, at a vast expense, the comfort and
convenience of his successors.

WALTER DEPOSE
EARL OF ESSEX.

WALTER DEVEREUX,

EARL OF ESSEX.

IN a reign abounding with historical anomalies this noble-
man's story is pre-eminently remarkable. Loyal to enthusiasm,
but slighted by his Sovereign ; of the most spotless honoui
and integrity, but never trusted ; equally distinguished by
his skill and bravery in the military profession, to which
he had dedicated his life, and uniformly checked in every
enterprise he proposed ; uniting in his veins the highest
blood of the land, and subjected to the mortifying control of
inferiors, in an age too when illustrious birth usually fur-
nished the strongest claim to respect : he sunk into the grave
at an early age, at once an ornament and a disgrace to his time,
leaving a sad memorial of disregarded merits, and unrequited
services.

His birth was indeed very noble, for he descended mater-
nally from the great Houses of Ferrers, Bourchier, and Grey,
from the first of which his paternal ancestors had derived the
Barony of Ferrers of Chartley: his grandfather, Walter,
Lord Ferrers, had been by Edward the Sixth advanced
to the title of Viscount Hereford ; his father, Sir Richard
Devereux, who did not live to enjoy the titles, took to wife
Dorothy, daughter of George Hastings, Earl of Huntingdon,
and he was the eldest son of that marriage. He was born
about the year 1540, and succeeded to the honours and
estates of his family in the nineteenth year of his age, on the
death of his grandfather. His good sense, his politeness, and

98 WALTER DEVEREUX,

his learning — for he had been excellently educated, — placed
him, for a time, so high in Elizabeth's favour, that she once
styled him, in a letter under her own hand, " the rare jewel
of her realm, and the bright ornament of her nobility." He
was anxious however to build his fame on a larger basis
than the graces and accomplishments of a courtier, and
eagerly seized the opportunity which the rebellion in the
North of 1569 offered to him, at once to render a signal
service to his Sovereign, and to establish a military reputa-
tion. On that occasion, he joined the Queen's forces with a
considerable body of troops, raised and equipped at his own
charge, and so contributed materially to the speedy dis-
persion of the insurgents. He received an especial, though
rather deferred, reward, for in 1572 the Earldom of Essex, a
dignity which formerly had been held by his ancestors, the
Bourchiers, was conferred on him, and that service is par-
ticularly stated in the preamble to his patent. Elizabeth
thought fit to distinguish his creation by unusual ceremonies,
which she concluded by girding on his sword, and placing
the coronet on his head, with her own hands. About the
same time she gave him the order of the Garter.

In the succeeding year he was enabled to put into practice
a plan which, though probably long considered, was less dis-
tinguished by its prudence than by a generous spirit of enter-
prise. Ireland was then the only scene of military operations,
and a fierce insurrection reigned, particularly in Ulster.
Essex prevailed on the Queen to permit him to volunteer
his services there, under a very singular agreement. Brian
Mac Phelim, more frequently called " the great O'Neil," a
powerful chief, had possessed himself of the most part of the
district of Clanhughboy, in that province, from which the
Earl undertook to dislodge him, on condition that Elizabeth
should grant to the conquerors and their commander, one
half of the subdued district, for the defence of which he sti-
pulated to maintain, at his own charge, two hundred horse,
and four hundred foot ; and, to furnish himself with the

EARL OF ESSEX. 99

means, he borrowed ten thousand pounds of the Queen, on
mortgage of his estates in Essex. It has been said, and there
seems little reason to doubt it, that the Queen's consent to
this romantic expedition was obtained chiefly through the
intercession of his enemy, Leicester, who watched his growing
favour with a jealous eye, and had used every artifice to
flatter and encourage his inclination, and to procure the dis-
patch to distance of a rival whom he dreaded. Essex,
although perhaps as much distinguished by an acute pene-
tration as by the noble simplicity of his mind, seems to have
been unconscious of this design to the last ; but he foresaw
other difficulties, and set out on his journey with a heavy
heart. The two following letters to the Treasurer Burghley,
from the originals in the Harleian collection, while they prove
that fact, will be found to throw a strong, and very advan-
tageous light on the Earl's character : we find, too, in the
second no inconsiderable proof of the wisdom of Elizabeth.

MAY IT PLEASE YOUR L.

I have passed the assurance of vc Ib land to the Quene's
Mate, after suche sort as her Ma4*1' Counsell hathe devised, as
shall appere unto you by Mr Attorney's certificat. I shall
nowe desyre your L. to send your warrant to Sr Thom~s
Gresham for delyvery of the moneye unto me. My L. Cham-
berlen told me yesterday that he hathe sent unto your L. the
articles touching comission for gov~nement of the contrey for
a tyme, and of those I carry w* me. I praye your L. after
you have considered of them to direct your warrant for the
making of the comission. Yf your L. do not come shortli
unto the Court, I shall desyre you to wryte to my L. Cham-
berlen, and my Lord of Leicester, to further my dispatche.
I have vearie greate busynes to do in the contrey after I
have done here, and therefore wold I be gladlie dispatched
hence. I meane not to tarry long after my patent and
comission are sealed.

I here y* your L. rides to your house at Burghley. I desyre

H2

100 WALTER DEVEREUX,

that I maye knowe the tyme of your returne to the Court,
or to your house at Theobalds. Yf your L. do not returne
before the last of this monethe, I will then wayte uppon you
at Burghley. I do, my Lord, make my reconyng of your L.
to be my assured pillar ; and if I did not hope that, assuredlie
I wold not have taken the jorney in hand, if the Quene had
given me the x thowsand pounds she lent me. I loke for to
find enymyes enoughe to this enterprise, and I feele of some
of them alredye. I praye your L. that you will, when your
leysure will serve you, set downe what course you thinck
beste for me to take for the order of those people I carry
we me, and fynd there. As I do onlye repose my trust uppon
you, so will I be only directed by you.

When your L. wrytes unto my Lord Deputie of Ireland I
praye you that you will desyre his favour and furtherance to
me in this enterprise. He shall fynd me as ready to do any
service there to her Majestic, undernethe him, and to get
any honour unto him, as he shall fynd any man. He is a
gentleman whom I have evr loved, and lyked well of, and I
have good hope I shall fynd him my frend ; and yet some
susipic~on have I had of late of yt, by reason of some speche
that hath passed from his nere f rends.

Thus, resting evr at yor L.' comandement, I shall comyt you
to the Lord. From Duresme Place, this xxii of June, 1573.
Your Lordship's at comaundement,

W. ESSEX.

MAY IT PLEASE YOUR L.

Yesterday I was at the Courte, and dyd take my leave of
her Matie. She hathe signed all my books, and I am dep~ted
from her Matie w' verie good words, and promyse of her favour
and furtherance to this enterprise. Uppon the taking of my
leave, she told me that she had two speciall things to advise
me of : the one was that I should have considerac~on of the
Irishe there, whiche she thought had become her disobedient
subjects rather because they have not byn defended from the

EARL OF ESSEX. 101

force of the Scotts than for any other cause. Her Matie'' opy-
nion was that, uppon my comyng, they wold yeld themselves
good subjects, and therefore wyshed them to be well used.
To this, my L., I answered that I determyned to deale so
wth them as I shuld fynd beste for her service when I came
there ; and, for the present, I could not saye what is beste to
be done ; but this her Matie shold be sure of ; that I wold
not imbrue my hands wk more blud than the necessitie of the
cause requireth. The other speciall matter was that I shuld
not seek too hastely to bring people that hathe byn trayned
in another religion from that wch they have been brought
uppe in. To this, I answered that, for the present, I thought
it was best to lerne them to knowe ther aliegence to her
Matie, and to yeld her their due obedience ; and, after they
had lerned that, they would be easily brought to be of good
religion. Muche more speches besids passed betweene her
MaUe and me, whiche were of no greate importance, and ther-
fore I wryte them not to yor L.

I am, my L., dep~ted from the Court w' many good and
fayre promises of diverse, but of the p~formance of them 1
knowe not what assurance I may make. I repose my onlie
truste uppon your L. Your honorable dealing w' me, both
in this, and at all tymes before, hathe byn suche as hath
bound me ever to be at your L.' comandement. And so I
rest, and humbly take my leave of yo' L. From Duresme
House, this xxl" of Julie, 1573.

At your L.' comandement,

W. ESSEX.

On the sixteenth of August following he embarked at Liver-
pool, accompanied by the Lords Darcy and Rich, and many
other persons of distinction, together with a multitude of
volunteers of inferior rank, who followed his fortune in the
hope of mending their own. They were disappointed, and
abandoned him soon after his arrival in Ireland, and this was
the first of the long series of misfortunes which attended his

102 WALTER DEVERETJX,

expedition. Weakened by their defection, he besought the"
Queen to let him prosecute the service in her name, and
under her command, and offered to discharge a moiety of the
expense from his own purse, but his request was denied. He
then applied to Sussex, Leicester, and Burghley, to induce her
to aid his diminished force with one hundred horse, and six
hundred foot, but that too was refused. In the mean time his
chagrin was increased by the malice of the Lord Deputy,
Fitzwilliam. Elizabeth, whose sagacity had foreseen the pro-
bable jealousy of that officer, had endeavoured to avert it by
leaving to him the honour of granting the Earl's commission,
the delivery of which he contemptuously delayed for many
months. When Essex received it, he was earnestly employed
in fortifying Clanhughboy, which in fact was the main object
of his plan ; but the messenger brought him positive orders
from the Deputy to abandon immediately that part of the
island, and to pursue the Earl of Desmond. He obeyed, in
silent grief, and had the good fortune, rather by persuasion
than force, to reduce that formidable chief to submission. He
gained great honour in this, and indeed in all the conduct of
his first campaign ; yet, says Camden, " with these actions
was the year well nigh spent in Ireland, to no man's advan-
tage, but to Essex's great damage."

Convinced, thus early, that all his endeavours would be
sacrificed to the envy of the Deputy, and the secret influence
of Leicester, and doubtful of the ability of his force to cope
with the enemy, he requested permission in the beginning of
the following year to treat with their leader, and was refused.
He then surrendered his government of Ulster, was soon after
suddenly obliged by the Deputy to resume it, and once more
to march far from thence against the insurgents, to whom,
when he unexpectedly found himself on the point of sub-
duing them, he was peremptorily instructed to offer terms of
peace. Still he obeyed. He concluded a treaty, even honour-
able to his Sovereign and to himself; and again returned
into Ulster, which, in his absence, had been invaded by tb,e

EARL OF ESSEX. 103

Hebridian Scots. He presently dispossessed them of the
tract of country which they had gained, and pursued them to
their own islands, on which he was establishing military posts,
when, without the assignment of any reason for so cruel an
insult, he was deprived of his command ; and required to
serve at the head only of three hundred men, with the mere
title of their captain. Elizabeth felt for his hardships, and
indeed may be considered as having shared in his indignities ;
but, such was her blind submission to the will of the detest-
able Leicester, that she durst not openly protect him. In
the midst of his vexations of this year, Burghley, whose
friendship for him Essex appears to have justly estimated,
vainly recommended it to her to appoint him to succeed his
enemy, Fitzwilliam, in the office of Lord Deputy — a new
circumstance in his story, which is communicated to us by
the following letter, from an original in the same collection
with those before inserted, abounding with indirect allusions
to the misconduct of that officer.

MY GOOD LORDE,

Yt greaveth me that I shoulde so often trouble yo' L. as I
doe, but necessitie doth compell me, for I finde none whoe is
carefull of myselfe, or my ac~ions, but yo' selfe. I wille not
trouble your L. w* a longe discourse of the state of things
here, but wille referre you to the lr~es written to my LL. of
the Counsaill.

We have expected here the cominge of Sr Henrye Sydney
theise two monethes, but that brute beginneth now to dye.
Suerly, my L., the daylie lookinge for of a chaunge dothe great
harme ; for duringe this interim is the greatest spoile comit-
ted, because all the ylle disposed now robbe and steale,
hopinge that the newe governor will pardon all done before
his tyme. God send us shortlie a settled governor, and
such a one as is fytte for Ireland, not Ireland fytte for him.
This people waxe proude : yea, the best might be amended :
all nede correction.

104 WALTER DEVEREUX,

I understand by divers of my freinds that your L. hathe
both wished and laboured to place me in this unfortunate
office. There is juste cause whie I shoulde thinke myselfe
moste depelie bounde to you for yt, for I knowe yor L. wish-
ethe yt for my good ; but the feare of envie, and of evill
assistaunce, dothe so much discourage me to take yt, as I
assure you, my L., L wishe yt rather to any man that were
fytte for it then to myselfe. I knowe that as the enterteinm'
is honorable, so is the charge great, and the burden he vie ;
and whoe shall serve the Q. and his country e faithfullie shall
have his payne a rewarde for his travaile : but, yf he wille
respect his gayne more than his Prince, countrie, or honestie,
then may he make his gayne unmercifull.

Because I will shortlie send againe, I wille not trouble
your L. longer, but wille conclude wth my humble thanks for
the money wch yor L. hathe p~cured me, w°h I assure you was
muche rieded. God preserve yor L. longe in healthe and honor.
From the Newrye, the 28 August, 1574.

Your L.' most bounden,

W. ESSEX.

Having remonstrated in vain, both to the Queen and the
Privy Council, by letters equally spirited and judicious,
which may be found in Collins's Sidney Papers, he retnmed
to England in the spring of the following year. He had been
long apprised of Leicester's treachery towards him, and now
gave vent to his indignation, with all the courage and candour
which belonged to his character ; yet that prodigious hypocrite
not only found means to appease him, but even dared to
proffer his friendship, and, in the end, persuaded Essex to
grasp at the deceitful phantom. He was induced once more
to return to Ireland, with general promises of better usage,
and more extensive powers ; and with the dignified but inef-
ficient office of Earl Marshal in that kingdom, granted to him
at Leicester's special entreaty. On his arrival there however
he found the same baleful influence still prevailing against

EARL OF ESSEX. 105

him. All his counsels were slighted ; all his active endeavours
thwarted ; all his motives misrepresented. He survived but
few months. Those who had spared no pains to blast all his
views of honour and happiness, industriously reported that he
died of a broken heart, or, in other words, of a dysentery
produced by grief. They certainly were best qualified to
draw that inference from their own conduct ; but the rumour
was discredited. The strongest suspicions of poison had
been excited ; and his friends, who indeed composed the
nation, for no man was more generally beloved and admired,
pointed with one accord at Leicester as the murderer. Three
minutely particular accounts of his illness are extant in print ;
the first, in the pamphlet called Leicester's Commonwealth ;
the second, which has been attributed to Essex's beloved
and faithful retainer, Sir Edward Waterhouse, in Hearne's
preface to his edition of Camden's Annals ; and the third, in
a letter from Sir Henry Sidney, at that time Lord Deputy, to
Sir Francis Walsingham, in the Sidney Papers. The first and
the last of these may be reasonably suspected of opposite par-
tiality. The object of the one was to load Leicester's memory
with every possible imputation : that of the other, to screen
it from censure. Sidney, indeed, was married to Leicester's
sister, and it detracts nothing from his most honourable cha-
racter, that he should have laboured to avert from his brother-
in-law so horrible a charge. Waterhouse's very curious nar-
rative (if it were his) is given with great candour. The
opinion however of the writer may be inferred from the
words with which it commences : " Walter, the noble Earl
of Essex, Earl Marshal of Ireland, Knight of the most
honourable Order of the Garter, falling sick on a laske, as it
was supposed, called Dysenteria, through adustion of choler,
on Friday the twenty-first of August (cr whether it were of
any other accident, the living God knoweth, and will revenge
it), he was grievously tormented by the space of twenty-two
days," &c. If this account be correct, of which there seems
little room to doubt, the Earl died on the eleventh or twelfth

106 WALTER DEVEREUX, EARL OF ESSEX.

of September, 1576 ; Dugdale, however, citing good authority,
fixes his death to the twenty-second of that month. He
was buried at Caermarthen, the place of his nativity.

Walter, Earl of Essex, married Lettice, daughter to Sir
Francis Knollys, K.G., and left issue by her two sons ; Robert,
his successor, the accomplished, imprudent, and unfortunate
favourite of Elizabeth ; and Walter ; and two daughters :
Penelope, first married to Robert, Lord Rich, afterwards to
Charles Blount, Earl of Devonshire ; and Dorothy, wife, first,
of Sir Thomas Perrot ; secondly, of Henry Percy, Earl of
Northumberland. Some considerable time following the
Earl's death had elapsed when it was suddenly discovered,
to the astonishment and disgust of the nation, and in con-
firmation of former suspicions, that Leicester had privately
married the widowed Countess almost immediately after the
decease of her ill-fated consort.

JClHlOtLAS BACON.

SIR NICHOLAS BACON.

FULLER, Lloyd, and other professed dealers in florid cha-
racters, have given this gentleman credit for the most exalted
talents and acquirements. Careless as such writers are of
fact, it would be too much to ascribe these encomiums merely
to imagination, but certainly the history of the memorable
period during a great part of which he held one of the first
offices in the state passes him over with very little notice,
and even the meagre intelligence which it affords us of him
is frequently confused by misrepresentation and inconsist-
ency. It may be gathered however that he was mild, prudent,
and unambitious ; qualities which should bespeak rather an
honest than a splendid fame ; that he sought rather to be a
useful minister than a refined politician ; that he loved retire-
ment, and rural occupations, and possessed the temper and
the faculties which make men agreeable to themselves and
to others in the intercourse of private life ; and that the
maxim which he chose for his motto probably denoted the
character of his mind, as well as regulated his conduct —
" Mediocria Firma."

He was the second son of Robert Bacon, of Drinkston, in
Suffolk, a descendant from a family of respectable antiquity
in that county, by Isabella, daughter of John Gage, of Paken-
ham, also in Suffolk, and was born at Chislehurst, in Kent,
in the year 1510. Of his education we know only that it
was completed at Bennet College in Cambridge, or rather at
Paris, whither he went for some time on leaving the univer-
sity : on his return he studied the law in Gray's Inn, and is

108 SIR NICHOLAS BACON.

said to have been distinguished at an early age, as well for
his extensive knowledge of it as for his eloquence at the bar.
We have no account of the circumstances which introduced
him to public employment, but there can be little doubt that
he was one among the many subordinate agents in the
Reformation. He had been bred in the new mode of faith,
and professed it through his life with a warmth of zeal
scarcely consistent with the placidity of his character. The
first favours too which he received from the Crown were
derived from that great fund on which Henry usually charged
the rewards of such persons, for they consisted in a grant of
the manors of Botesdale and Gillingham, and the manor and
park of Redgrave, portions of the estate of the monastery of
Bury St. Edmund's. These were conferred on him in 1544,
and he was about the same time appointed Solicitor to the
Court of Augmentation, and two years after Attorney to the
Court of Wards. We have no further intelligence of him
during that reign, except that he formed, and presented to
the King, a plan for the foundation of a great college, which
was designed to embrace all subjects of modern learning,
and to be devoted, as it should seem, to the education of
those designed for the service of the state. Its main objects
were, to cultivate the utmost purity in the knowledge of the
Latin and French tongues ; to read and debate in those lan-
guages on all subjects of public policy ; and to form historical
collections and treatises regarding general systems of govern-
ment, and their several practical features of domestic manage-
ment and foreign negotiation ; and the students were at
length to be perfected in these arts by travelling in the suites
of the King's foreign ministers. It is almost needless to say
that the scheme was never put into execution.

He passed the reign of Edward the Sixth without further
promotion, and that of Mary without persecution. Elizabeth,
in her first year, 1558, gave him the custody of the Great
Seal, with the style of Lord Keeper, by a patent dated on the
twenty-second of December, and soon after knighted him,

SIR NICHOLAS BACON. 109

and admitted him of her Privy Council. It is highly pro-
bable, not to disparage his professional merits, that he owed
this sudden and splendid advancement in a great measure to
the friendship of Cecil, with whom he lived in much inti-
macy and confidence, and whose wife's sister he had married;
and that it was through the same influence that the Queen,
and at length the Parliament, were afterwards induced to
invest his office, for the first time, with all the authorities and
privileges of the Chancellorship, the faculties of his predeces-
sors in the place of Lord Keeper having extended little further
than to the mere sealing of patents. He gained, and very
deservedly, much credit by his judicious treatment, in Eliza-
beth's first Parliament, of the great question of her legitimacy,
and it was under his auspices that two bills were passed, the
one for recognising her title to the crown, the other for
restoring her in blood as heir to her mother, silently leaving
untouched the act by which her father had bastardised her.
On this policy Fuller, to give him his due, says well — " He
was condemned by some who seemed wise, and commended
by those who were so, for not causing that statute to be
repealed whereby the Queen was made illegitimate, for this
wise statesman would not open that wound which time had
partly closed, and would not meddle with the variety, yea
contrariety, of statutes in this kind, whereby people would
rather be perplexed than satisfied, but derived her right
from another statute, which allowed her succession, the
rather because lawyers maintain that a crown once worn
cleareth all defects of the wearer thereof," — a doctrine too
desperate to be resorted to but in extreme cases, and Eliza-
beth's was then of that description.

He was appointed in the beginning of the following year
to preside at the conference held before the two Houses of
Parliament between the leading clergy of the two churches
on their main points of difference, an office for which he was
very unfit, being, as Camden in speaking of it observes, " a
very indifferent divine, and a professed enemy to the

110 SIR NICHOLAS BACON.

Papists." This debate, which was instituted with no other
motive than to impress on the minds of Elizabeth's subjects
of both persuasions a notion of her impartiality and candour,
was of course abortive. The Protestants entered on it with
the haughtiness of anticipated triumph, and the Catholics
refused to engage in any discussion to which the Pope's
supremacy was not made a preliminary. They desired to
retire, and Bacon, after repeatedly urging them in vain to go
on, dismissed them with this indirect threat — " For that ye
will not that we should hear you, perhaps you may shortly
hear of us." Some of them were accordingly committed
soon after to the Tower, and the rest were bound to appear
before the Privy Council, and to remain within the limits of
London and Westminster.

His steady aversion to popery, joined to the legal acuteness
and uprightness with which he administered the affairs of his
court, and the regular method which he introduced into the
deliberations of the Privy Council, placed him high in Eliza-
beth's favour. " She relied on him," says Camden, " as the
very oracle of the law." He avoided as much as possible any
concern in political intrigues, but the family connexion lately
mentioned, as well as his own inclination and judgment, led
him to act with what was called the Cecilian party ; and
this bias, joined to a bitter dislike to the Queen of Scots,
chiefly on the score of her religion, induced him to oppose
with imprudent openness not only the proposal for a marriage
between that Princess and the favourite Leicester, but also
the arguments for her succession to the throne, both of which
Elizabeth seemed for the time inclined to countenance.
Leicester became hereupon his implacable enemy, and ac-
cused him to the Queen of having been concerned, as indeed
he probably was, in the composition of a tract, published in
1564, under the name of John Hales, Clerk of the Hanaper.
with the title of " A Declaration of the Succession of the
Crown Imperial of England," in which the right was as-
serted to be in the issue of the Earl of Hertford by the Lady

SIR NICHOLAS BACON. 'Ill

Catherine Grey, a doctrine peculiarly odious to Elizabeth.
Hales was committed to the Fleet prison, and then to the
Tower, and Bacon was forbidden the Court, deprived of his
seat in the Privy Council, and restricted from any concern in
public affairs beyond those of the Court of Chancery, from
which also Leicester used his utmost efforts to persuade the
Queen to remove him. He remained for many months in
disgrace, and wrote during that interval a sort of recantation,
which will be presently more particularly mentioned, in
which he asserted the right of succession in the line of Stuart,
still however stoutly insisting on the exclusion of Mary. At
the earnest intercession, as our historians say, of Cecil, he was
at length restored to the exercise of his former functions, and
to the Queen's favour, which for the remainder of his life he
enjoyed without interruption.

The fact probably is, that the true motive to Elizabeth's
esteem for him may be ascribed to his inveteracy against
Maiy ; and that his temporary suspension, and her seeming
anger, were mere artifices used to appease the vexation of
Leicester, and to silence the importunities of the Scottish
ambassador, the Bishop of Rosse, who had loudly demanded
justice against the authors and patrons of the tract in ques-
tion. He was placed at the head of the second commission
appointed, in 1568, to hear Murray's charges against the
Queen of Scots ; and the meeting in 1571 of Elizabeth's
mkiisters and Mary's delegates, at which it was demanded,
as the price of Mary's liberty, that some of the chief nobility,
and principal fortresses of Scotland, should be placed in
Elizabeth's hands, was held in his house, where, the Scots
objecting to these proposals, Bacon broke up the conference,
exclaiming, says Camden, " All Scotland, your Prince, nobles,
and castles, are too little to secure the Queen, and the flourish-
ing kingdom of England." It is scarcely necessary to observe
that this mode of dealing was exactly suited to Elizabeth's
taste. In the following year the Papists endeavoured to
avenge Mary's cause, and their own, by the publication in

112 SIE NICHOLAS BACON.

France of a most bitter pamphlet, with the title of "A Trea-
tise of Treason," in which they charged Bacon as " a traitor
to the state of England," and loaded him with every sort of
obloquy. This libel, which was carefully dispersed in every
part of England, was so highly resented by Elizabeth that
she condescended to justify him, and others of her ministers
who were vilified in it, by a special proclamation, and com-
manded that all the copies of the book should be forthwith
given up under severe penalties and burned. With regard
to his public life we have no further communication.

He built a mansion on his estate of Redgrave, and another
at Gorhambury, near St. Alban's, to which last he added
gardens of great extent, in the contrivance and decoration of
which every feature of the bad taste of his time was abun-
dantly lavished. It was at the former of these houses that
Elizabeth, making him a visit, and having observed that it
was too small for him, he answered, " No, Madam, my house
is not too small for me, but your Majesty has made me too
great for my house." Doubtless he meant in the quaint
spirit of that day, which always strained a jest too far, to
give his repartee the advantage of a double allusion, for he
was, it seems, enormously bulky ; and it is most singular
that Camden, in the short but grave character which he has
left us of the Lord Keeper's mind, should have commenced
by mentioning that defect in his person : " Vir praepinguis,
ingenio acerrimo, singular! prudentia, summa eloquentia,
tenaci memoria, et sacris conciliis alterum columen." It is
recorded indeed by his own pen, in the commencement of
the rough draft of a letter to Elizabeth, remaining in the
Harleian Collection, the terms of which may serve too as an
apology for the opinion which I have presumed to hint of
the mediocrity of his talents—" My most gracious Sovereign ;
I will, w"1 all humblenes pray pardon of your Mate that I
presume by 1'" to doe that wch bounden dutie and service
requireth to be done in p'sone. Oh, good Madame, not of
an unwillinge harte and mynde, but of an unhable and

SIR NICHOLAS BACON. 113

unweldie bodie, is the only cause of this ; and yet the bodie,
suche as it is (as alegiance and a number benefits binds)
every day, yea and every howere, is and shalbe readie, at
yor Highnes' commaundement, and so should they be, if I
had as good as any man hathe," &c.

He endowed his college with six scholarships, and gave
more than a hundred manuscripts to its library. Only two
publications appear to be extant from his pen; the one
entitled, " Arguments exhibited in Parliament, whereby it
is proved that the persons of Noblemen are attachable by
Law for Contempts committed in the High Court of Chan-
cery," 4to, 1641 ; and the other, on a subject which has
been already here spoken of—" The Right of Succession to
the Crown of England in the Family of the Stuarts, exclusive
of Mary Queen of Scots, asserted and defended against Sir
Anthony Browne." This latter tract, which did not appear
till 1723, professes to have been published from the original
manuscript by Nathaniel Booth, of Gray's Inn, Esq.

He died on the twentieth of February, 1579. Mallet, in
his life of the great Bacon, tells us, without stating his
authority, that Sir Nicholas being " under the hands of his
barber, and the weather very sultry, had ordered a window
before him to be thrown open. As he was become very
corpulent, he presently fell asleep in the current of fresh air
that was blowing in on him, and awaked after some time,
distempered all over. l Why,' said he to the servant, ' did
you leave me thus exposed ? ' The fellow replied that he
durst not presume to disturb him. ' Then,' said the Lord
Keeper, * by your civility I lose my life ; ' and so removed
into his bedchamber, where he died a few days after." He
was buried in St. Paul's Cathedral, under a superb monu-
ment, erected by himself, inscribed with the following lines
by the hand of George Buchanan —

" Hie Nicolaum ne Baconum conditum,
Existima ilium, tarn diu Britannici
Regni secundum colutnen, exitium malis,
II. I

114 SIR NICHOLAS BACON.

Bonis asylum ; caeca quern non extulit

Ad hunc honorem sors, sed a quitas, fides,

Doctrina, pictas, unica et prudentia.

Neu morte raptum crede, quia unica brevi

Vita perennes emeruit duas : agit

Vitam secundam caelites inter animus :

Fama implet orbem vita quae illi tertia est.

Hac positum in ara est corpus olim animi domus,

Ara dicata sempiternse memoriae."

He married, first, Jane, daughter of William Fernely, of
West Creting, in Suffolk, by whom he had three sons ; Sir
Nicholas, who was the first Baronet created on the institu-
tion of that order ; Nathaniel, of Stiffkey, in Norfolk ; and
Edward, of Shrubland Hall, in Suffolk ; and three daughters :
Anne, wife of Sir Henry Wodehouse, of Waxham, in Nor-
folk ; Jane, married first to Sir Francis Wyndham, a judge
of the Common Pleas, secondly, to Sir Robert Mansfield ;
and Elizabeth, who was thrice married, first to Sir Robert
D'Oyley, of Chisolhampton, in Oxfordshire ; secondly, to
Sir Henry Nevil ; thirdly, to Sir William Periam, a Baron
of the Exchequer. Sir Nicholas married, secondly, Anne,
daughter and coheir of Sir Anthony Cooke, of Gidea Hall,
in Essex, and sister of Lady Burghley, by whom he had
two sons ; Anthony ; and Francis, the chancellor, the phi-
losopher, and the great honour and disgrace to his name and
family.

—

T MO MAS ORBSH'AM.

SIR THOMAS GRESHAM.

IT has been reported that this great Patriarch of commerce,
and of commercial finance, issued from the lowest origin, nay
even that he was a foundling. An old woman, says this
tradition, who was led by the chirping of grasshoppers to the
spot where he was exposed, carried him to her cottage, and
nursed him, and therefore he chose a grasshopper for his
crest. It is inconceivable how such silly falsehoods can gain
currency in the face of facts of extensive notoriety. He was
descended from a family of respectable antiquity and pos-
sessions in Norfolk, which derived its name from that of the
parish in which it had originally been seated. His father,
Sir Richard, and his uncle, Sir John, who were the third and
fourth sons of his grandfather, John Gresham of Holt, in
that county, were bred to trade ; acquired great wealth ;
and each of them served the offices of Alderman and Lord
Mayor. He was the third and youngest son of Sir Richard
Gresham, by his first wife, Audrey, daughter of William
Lynn, of Southwick, in Northamptonshire, and was born in
the year 1519.

His father had for many years exercised the employment
in which he himself became afterwards so conspicuous, that
of agent for the Crown with the trading interest, or as it
was called, King's Merchant, an office of the highest import-
ance and trust, inasmuch as it united the duty of raising
money for the royal occasions by private loans, with that of
protecting and cherishing the sources from which they were
derived. In this, as well as in his own great commercial
i2

116 SIB THOMAS GRESHAM.

concerns, it is pretty evident that he designed his son Thomas
for his successor, especially as he was regularly bound an
apprentice to his uncle Sir John, and afterwards admitted
into the Mercers' Company ; yet he was bred a scholar, and
acquired no mean fame in the University of Oxford, since
Dr. Caius, in his Annals of Gonville and Caius College, says
of him, " Una nobiscum per juventutem hujus Collegii pen-
sionarius erat Thomas Gresham, nobilis ille et doctissimus
mercator, qui forum mercatorium Londini extruxit," &c.
On the death of his father however, which occurred in 1548,
Edward the Sixth's Council appointed a Sir William Dansell
to the office of royal money agent, who took up his residence
in that character at Antwerp, where the trade and wealth of
our part of Europe was at that time in a manner mono-
polised, and from whence the supplies which the profuseness
of the preceding reign had rendered so needful had been from
time to time drawn, under circumstances of disadvantage to
the Crown, which resulted rather from an imperfect know-
ledge of a right economy in the negotiation of loans than
from any inclination to fraud or carelessness. Dansell con-
tinued there for a short time, with so little benefit to the
King's affairs that it was found necessary to send him letters
of recal, which he disobeyed, and Gresham, who, with other
merchants, had been called before the Privy Council to advise
on the best means of discharging the King's debts, and of
procuring future supplies, was sent to Antwerp to supersede
him, and presently acquired the highest credit, both there
and at home, by the activity, prudence, and fidelity, which
distinguished his performance of the duties of his office.

On the accession of Mary, probably on the score of religion,
for he seems to have been a zealous Protestant, he was dis-
missed from this employment. Conscious however that his
abilities to execute it were unrivalled, and fearful that the
fruition of his projects should be delayed by the mismanage-
ment of ignorant competitors, he ventured instantly to pre-
sent to the Queen a memorial, stating, with a boldness of

SIR TIIOMAS GRESIIAM. 117

expression very unusual at that time, his services to her late
brother, and conceived with such force and dexterity, that
while it concluded without any direct request, it left her
scarcely at liberty to do otherwise in common prudence than
to reinstate him. This curious piece, which is of great
length, has fortunately been preserved, and it would be dif-
ficult to give a clearer idea of the nature of his services, or of
the mode in which he performed them, than by citing some
extracts from it in his own words. Having stated diffusely
the circumstances which, as has been here already observed,
led to his appointment by King Edward, whose debts in this
way of private contract he says amounted at that time to two
hundred and sixty thousand pounds, he proceeds thus : —

" Before I was called to serve there was no other means
devised to bring the King out of debt but to transport the
treasure out of the realme, or else by way of exchange, to the
great abasing of the exchange, for a pound of our current
money then brought in value but sixteen shillings Flemish ;
and for lack of payment there at the days appointed, to pre-
serve his Majesty's credit with all, to prolong time also upon
interest, which interest, besides the loss of the exchange,
afnounteth unto forty thousand pounds by year ; and in every
such prolongation his Majesty was enforced to take great
part in jewels or wares, to his extreme loss and damage ; of
which forty thousand pounds loss for interest yearly I have
by my travail clearly discharged the said King every penny,
without which prevention the Queen's Majesty had been
indebted at this her entry into the imperial Crown the sum
of four hundred thousand pounds ; besides the saving of the
treasure within the realm ; without taking of jewels or wares,
to the King's disadvantage. Whereas at the time of my entry
into the office I found the exchange at sixteen shillings the
pound, I found the means nevertheless, without any charge to
the King, or hindrance of any other, to discharge the King's
whole debts as they grew due, at twenty shillings, and two and
twenty shillings the pound ; whereby the King's Majesty, and

118 SHI THOMAS GilESHAM.

now the Queen, hath saved one hundred thousand marks clear.
By reason that I raised the exchange from sixteen shillings
unto two and twenty shillings, whereunto it yet remaineth, all
foreign commodities be fallen, and sold after the same value, to
the enriching of the subjects of the realm, in small process of
time, above three or four hundred thousand pounds. It is
assuredly known that when I took this service in hand the
King's Majesty's credit on the other side was small ; and yet
afore his death he was in such credit, both with strangers
and his own merchants, that he might have had what sum of
money he had desired, whereby his enemies began to fear
him, for his commodities of his realm, and power amongst
Princes, was not known before ; which credit the Queen's
Highness hath obtained, if she were in necessity for money
at this present day. To the intent to work this matter
secretly for the raising of the exchange I did only use all my
own credit with my substance and friends. To the intent to
prevent the merchants, both strangers and English, who
always lay in wait to prevent my devices when the exchange
fell to raise it again, I bare some one time loss of my own
monies, as the King's Majesty and his Council well knew,
two or three hundred pounds, and this was divers times done ;
besides the credit of fifty thousand pounds which I took by
exchange in my own name, without using the King's name.
For the accomplishment of the premises I not only left the
realm, with my wife and family, my occupying and whole
trade of living, by the space of two years, but also posted in
that time forty times, upon the King's sending, at the least,
from Antwerp to the Court ; besides the practising to bring
these matters to effect ; the infinite occasion of writing also
to the King and his Council ; with the keeping of reckonings
and accompts only by my own hand writing, for mistrust in
so dangerous a business of preventers, whereof were store too
many ; until I had clearly discharged all the foresaid debt, to
the great benefit of the realm, and profit of the Queen ; for
in case this debt had been let alone, and deferred upon

SIR THOMAS GRESHAM. 119

interest four years or five, her Majesty should have found
it amount to fifteen hundred thousand pounds at the least,
which, God be praised, is ended, and therefore careless at
this day."

Having thus recited his services, he demands an audience
of the Queen ; for, says he, " nevertheless hitherto do I per-
ceive that those which served before me, which brought the
King in debt, and took wares and jewels up to the King's
great loss, are esteemed and preferred for their evil service,
and contrarywise, myself discountenanced and out of favour
for my diligence and good sendee taken to bring the King
and Queen's Highness out of debt clear, which understanding
of my service that her Majesty may take in good part is as
much as I required." Edward had not been ungrateful to
him. "It pleased the King's Majesty," adds he, "to give
unto me one hundred pounds, to me and my heirs for ever,
three weeks before his death, and promised me then with his
own mouth that he would hereafter see me rewarded better,
saying, * I should know that I served a King.' " Why he
chose to mention this trifling gift, and to be silent as to
the valuable grants of a monastic estate in the county of
Caermarthen, and of the reversion of the Priory of Westacre
in Norfolk, both which he received in that reign, it is not
easy to conceive. His memorial, aided probably by interest,
was successful : Mary restored him to his post, which he
filled during the whole of her reign ; and Elizabeth continued
him in it, with increased favour, and bestowed the honour
of knighthood on him soon after her accession.

Numerous details of his negotiations remain in our public
collections, and in the cabinets of the curious, but the ordi-
nary transactions of a mercantile agent, however enlarged,
can possess little to recommend them to general attention.
He became enormously wealthy when he had scarcely passed
the prime of life. He had married early, and his wife brought
him an only son, whom he had the great misfortune to lose, at
the age of sixteen, in 1564. The enthusiasm which in minds

120 SIR THOMAS GRESHAM.

above the common character attends acute grief, produces some-
times extraordinary consequences. Gresham, immediately
after the death of his son, determined on the execution of a
grand design, which is said to have been conceived by his
father, to erect at his own expense a public edifice, after the
fashion of the great commercial cities of the continent, for
the meeting of the merchants of London, who had been used
to transact their business, exposed to the weather, in Lom-
bard Street, or, most indecently, in Saint Paul's Cathedral.
In aid of this splendid purpose the corporation purchased
and removed eighty houses, which then stood on the site of
the projected building, and gave him regular possession of
the ground, and towards the end of the year 1567 the Royal
Exchange, or, as it was first called, " Britain's Burse," was
completed and opened for use ; a monument almost unparal-
leled to the generosity of a private individual. It was
destroyed in the great fire of 1666, but a very correct judg-
ment of its magnificence, and of the great charge of its
erection, may be formed from the fact that the building, by
which the city, and the company of mercers, immediately
replaced it, with very little deviation from the original plan,
cost about eighty thousand pounds. Nor was he inat-
tentive to those ostentations which were by no means unbe-
coming in one who stood confessedly at the head of the
important class to which he belonged. He had already built,
for his own residence, in Bishopsgate Street, a noble mansion,
of which it will be necessary presently to speak further, and
soon after added to the great purchases, that he had made in
many other parts of the kingdom, that beautiful and well-
known estate near London, called Osterley Park, which he
planted and inclosed, and erected in it another spacious and
stately house. In each of these residences he had more than
once the honour of entertaining Elizabeth and her court;
and it was in one of her visits to Osterley, that, the Queen
having observed that the quadrangle within the building was
too large, he sent instantly to London for workmen, who,

SIR THOMAS GRESHAM. 121

with equal expedition and secrecy, divided it in the course of
the same night by building a wall, which when Elizabeth
rose she was astonished to find completed, in strict confor-
mity to her criticism — a refined gallantry exactly to her taste.
Gresham indeed seems to have possessed much of the
refinement of a courtier, and more of the sagacity of a politi-
cian. In his frequent journeys to the Low Countries he had
made acute observations on the Spanish policy, and had
gained much important intelligence. Elizabeth's ministers,
particularly Cecil, courted his advice on many matters, and
gave him no small share of their confidence. Thus in 1568,
during a great scarcity of coin in England, a large Biscayan
ship, which was conveying a great sum in gold and silver to
the Duke of Alva for the payment of his troops, having been
chased into the harbour of Plymouth, Gresham, who had
received intelligence that the money was not the property of
the King of Spain, but had been wrested by him from certain
merchants of Genoa, apprised Cecil of that fact, and per-
suaded him to seize it, and send it to the mint, giving security
however to the Spanish ambassador to repay the amount when
it should be made to appear to whom of right it belonged.
Cecil reluctantly complied, and advised Elizabeth accord-
ingly ; and the Duke of Alva, enraged and disappointed,
caused all the English at Antwerp to be arrested, an outrage
which was immediately retaliated on the Spaniards then in
London. Cecil, who abhorred violent measures, became
alarmed, and was with some difficulty appeased by Gresham 's
assurance that any future foreign loans to the Crown might
be as advantageously negotiated at Hamburgh as at Antwerp,
but that it might be reasonably expected that the readiness
of our own merchants to make advances would render them
unnecessary. An original letter of great curiosity from
Gresham to Cecil, in which all these points are touched on,
is in the Lansdowne collection, in the British Museum.
Stowe, who had by some means obtained a perusal of it, has
given large extracts from it, almost verbatim, in his Survey

122 SIR THOMAS GRESHAM.

of London ; and the authors of the Biographia Britannica,
quoting Stowe, represent them, from what motive it is not
easy to guess, as arguments used by Gresham in a personal
conference with the Minister. The letter has a peculiar claim
to be inserted in this memoir in its full integrity.

" Right honnorable Sr.

This morning I have receaved y™. with my l~res, by my
s~rvaunt, wherebie I do perceyve that the monneye whiche
remanith in my hands of Sr. Will~m Garrard, and for the
armur, must be paid to the nTrchauntes, wherin I shall
p~cede with paiment of half their sonTes until furder yor.
pleas', be knowen, for the whiche it maie please you to send
me the Q.' Matie'. warraunt. And, whereas yor. Honnor doth
now think some difficulte to paie any monney to the Q.
Matie's. creditors beyond the seas, Sr., in my opinion youe
neede not to make any dowbt therof yf her Highnes do see her
m~chaunts well paid here in London this first somme, for bie
that tyme the other monney shalbe paiable hear bie the Q.!
Ma'ie. to her said mfchaunts they shall have both plenty of
monney at Hamboroughe and heare ; assuring you the goodes
that or. m~rchaunts hathe shipped from Hambrough hither is
well worth cMli . and better ; and the shipping that they make
now from hens w1. or. comodityes is richely worthe vn cMli.,
and better, for that ther wilbe above xxxMli . clothes, the cus-
tom wherof wilbe worth to the Q.' Mtie. at the least xMli ., which
will discharg that debt, if it stand so wth. the Q.' Ma1'" pleash'.

Sr., I do perceyve that the gretest care that youe have is
that or. nTrchaunts shall not have monney inoughe for to by
up or. comodytes, wherin you need not dowbt, co~sidering
the goode vent they have had at Hamboroughe alredie, and
are like to have ; therfore I shall most humblie beseche you,
for the staie and advauncing of the Q.' Ma1'8, credit, this
small paiment that is agreed upon alredy at Hamborough
maie be paid, considering that I have written heretofore to
the said creditors they shuld have a paiment made there now

SIR THOMAS GRE3IIAM. 123

this August, whiche paiment will not a little advaunce her
Highnes' honnor and credit ; and how much her Highnes
credit hathe stand her in steede beyond the seas for reddie
monney it is to tedius, and to long a matter, to trowble you
w"1. all ; but if my credit were such that I were able to per-
swade the Q.' Matie and you, I would have that matter now
sorowid for above all other things ; assuring you, Sr., I do
know for certain that the Duke de Alva is more trowbled
w"1. the Q.' Ma1*', gret credit, and wlh. the vent of her
Highnes' commodities at Hamborough, then he is wth. any
thing els, and »ju;ikcs for feare, which is one of the chifest
things that is the let that the said Duke cannot com by the
tenth penny that he now demandeth for the sale of all goods
anny kind of waye in the Lowe Countrey, wch'., Sr., I beleve
wilbe his utter undoing. Therefore, S'., to conclude, I would
wi.slio that the Q.' Matie. in this tyme shuld not use any
straungers, but her own subjects, wherbie, she, and all other
Princes, maie se what a Prince of powr she is ; and bie this
meanes there is no doubt but that her Highnes shall cause the
Duke of Alva to know himself, and to make what end with
that Lowe Countreys as her Malie. will herself, what brute
soevr. is here spredde abrode to the contrary.

" S'., seeing I am entrid so farre wth youe for the credit of
the Q.' Malio. beyond the seas, wherin I haue travailed this
xx yeres, and bie experience in using or. owne m'.chaunts I
found gret honnor to the Prince, as also gret p~fit to the
m'.chaunts, and to the whole realm, whatsoever our m'.chaunts
saye to the co~trarye ; for when or. Prince ought owr own
m'.chaunts LX or nnXXMii- then they knew themselves, and
were dailie reddie to s~rve as good chepe as straungers did,
whiche, Sr., I wold wishe again in this time of extremity to
be usid, for that I knowe o'. m'.chaunts be able to do yt,
because the debt is divided into many menne's hands, and
by no meanes cannot hinder them having intrest. Other I
have not to molest you wth.ali, but that as the 12 of this
present Mr. Benedik Spinola brought home to my house a

124 SIR THOMAS GRESHAM.

m'.chaunt of Janua, calid Thomas Ragio, to take his leave ot
me, to knowe if he could plesure me w*. any thing in
Flaunders ; and, as I thanked him, so, emongs other co-
munication of p~fit, and for s'.vice by his ministrie, he desired
me to be his frend for such monney as the Q.' MaUe. hath of
his in the Towr. With that I asked him what his somme
was, and he sayedxx or XXXM. ducats : but by talke I p~ceive
he hathe much more with other of his f rinds. Now, Sr.,
seeing this monney in the Towr dothe app~rtain to m'.chaunts,
I wold wishe the Q.' Ma"", to putt it to the use of some
p~fitt ; as to mynt it into her owne coyne, wherbye she shall
be a gaynor in or iinMi1., and enriche her relm wth. so much
fyne silvr. : and for the re-payment thereof her Highnes maie
paie it bie the waie of exchaunge, or otherwise, to her gret
fardell and profit ; as also her Matie. maie take it up of the
said m'.chaunts upon intrest, uppon the bands accustomid,
for a yere or twoo, whiche I think they wilbe right glad of ;
and so wlh. the said monney her Malie. maie paie her debts
both heare and in Flaunders, to the gret honnor and credit of
her Matie. throughout all Xtendom ; as knowith the L. who
pres~rve you, with the increse of honnor. From Gresham
House, the 14 of August, 1569,

At yor. Honnor's commandment,

THOMAS GKESHAM.

" Sr. I most humbly thancke you for the remembrans that
yow have of my sewte for my Lady Mary Grey, and for my
lande at Oysterley."

Cecil, convinced and encouraged by these arguments, laid
them before the Queen, who determined to take the steps
recommended by them, and Gresham, to forward the more
effectually his advice by his own example, sent, in the suc-
ceeding month, to the Tower five sacks of new Spanish reals,
each sack weighing nearly one thousand pounds, to be coined
for the Queen's use, as his own individual contribution ; but
he had calculated erroneously on the disposition of the

SIR THOMAS GRESIIAM. 125

London merchants to lend. He proposed the matter to them,
and they, to shift from themselves the odium of a direct
refusal, referred it as a public question to the assembly called
a common hall, by which, even then distinguished by its
vulgar and senseless inclination to oppose indiscriminately
all measures instituted by the ministers of the Crown, it was
negatived. Gresham treated these persons with the disdain
which they merited. Abandoning his original intention of
negotiating the loan with privacy, he procured a letter from
the Privy Council to the great company of Merchant Adven-
turers, which may be found at length in Stowe's Survey,
remonstrating with them in plain terms on the subterfuge
which had been thus used by many of their members in their
individual capacity, and reproaching them with ingratitude
to the Crown, which had constantly and carefully forwarded
their best interests. The Merchant Adventurers, ashamed
not less of the inferior people with whom some of them had
thus associated themselves, than of the narrow views with
which they had formed that connection, readily agreed to
furnish the sum required, and lent Elizabeth sixteen thousand
pounds on her bonds, at the then moderate interest of six
per cent. She, on her part, testified her gratitude to them,
and to Gresham, by honouring him, on the twenty-third of
January, 1">70, with a visit at his house in Bishopsgate Street,
where she dined, and, on returning in the evening by Corn-
hill, entered the Burse, with more than ordinary pomp, and
i a herald to proclaim that it should thenceforth be
called by the name of " the Royal Exchange."

In the summer of 1572 the Queen, resolving to make a
progress longer than ordinary, thought fit, from some motive
of jealousy of her good citizens of London, now forgotten, to
issue a commission rather of an unusual nature, by which the
Archbishop of Canterbury, and eight other distinguished per-
sons, were authorized and commanded to assist the Lord
Mayor with their counsel for the good government and peace
of the city during the absence of herself and her Court and

126 SIR THOMAS GRESHAM.

ministers. Sir Thomas Gresham was of the number ; the
measure was thought to have produced such good effects,
that it was always resorted to on similar occasions during
that reign ; and his name was constantly inserted. It is pro-
bable, indeed, considering the importance of his connexion
at once with the Court and the city, that the exercise of this
office fell chiefly on him. In the following year, through his
care and exertions, the Queen's bonds to the London mer-
chants were punctually discharged ; and this proof of good
faith so fixed his credit, that his future negotiations for
similar loans were always managed without distrust or diffi-
culty. In 1576 he was joined in a commission with Burgh-
ley, Walsingham and Martin, master of the Mint, to inquire
into the nature of foreign exchanges, and with this appoint-
ment his public employment seems to have ended.

He had for some years meditated the foundation of a dis-
tinguished place of education for the sons of citizens of
London, but seems to have been undetermined where to
establish it. Each of the Universities addressed itself to
him on this subject, soliciting the preference with that per-
tinacious importunity generally used by corporate societies ;
and Gresham, who really seems to have previously hesitated
between Oxford and Cambridge, was perhaps induced by this
indecorum to fix on London. He resolved to convert his
ample dwelling in Bishopsgate Street into a college : to
endow it with the revenues arising from the profits of the
Royal Exchange, and to place it under the care of the same
trustees to whom he had already committed the charge of
that superb property. By a deed of the twenty-fourth of
May, 1575, and by his last will, dated the fifth of the follow-
ing July, he vested the latter edifice in the corporation of
London and the company of mercers, to be equally enjoyed
by them ; the City to pay out of its moiety an annual salary
of fifty pounds each to four professors of divinity, astronomy,
music, and geometry ; the mercers to pay the same stipend
to three in law, physic, and rhetoric. These professors to

SIR THOMAS GRESHAM. J27

reside, and to read their lectures, in his mansion, afterwards
called Gresham College, to which he annexed eight alms-
houses, to be maintained from the same source, which he
charged also with liberal pensions to several hospitals and
prisons. This laudable and generous institution flourished
usefully till the end of the succeeding century, when, the
Revolution having totally broken down the fences which even
till then had kept the different classes of society in some
degree distinct from each other, the citizens became too
haughty to accept of gratuitous instruction : Gresham College
dwindled gradually till the year 1768, when an act was
was passed for the purchase of it by the commissioners of
the Excise : it was pulled down : and the present Excise
office was erected on its site. A room, over part of the
Exchange, was appointed for the lectures, which have long
been in a great measure discontinued. As the salaries remain,
the professorships still exist. All the rest is nearly extinct.
Sir Thomas Gresham died of apoplexy on the twenty-first
of November, 1579, and was buried in the parish church of
St. Helen, in Bishopsgate Street. By his wife, Anne, daughter
of William Ferneley, of West Creting, in Norfolk, and relict
of William Read of Fulham, in Middlesex, a merchant of
London, he had, as has been observed, an only son, Richard,
who died young. He left however a natural daughter, the
fruit of an amour with a native of Bruges, whom he gave in
marriage, portioned with considerable estates in Norfolk and
Suffolk, to Nathaniel, second son of Sir Nicholas Bacon,
Lord Keeper, whose wife was sister to the Lady Gresham.

V7S

EARL 01

HENRY FITZALAN,

EARL OF AUUNDEL.

THE first attempt is now made to bring into one view the
dispersed relics of this very eminent person's story. In
searching for them, regret has been excited at every step by
evident presumptions that innumerable circumstances of that
story have been long lost in utter oblivion. In the life of
a man of exalted rank, not less distinguished by the vigour of
his talents than by his honesty and high spirit ; continually
in the service of the Crown, under four Monarchs the cha-
racters of whose minds and tempers, and the policy of whose
governments, were dissimilar even to opposition ; devoted
with the most faithful and unbending resolution to a religion
which he saw alternately cherished and proscribed by those
Princes, professed and abjured by his compeers ; what inte-
resting facts must have occurred ! what dangers must he not
have encountered, what difficulties must he not have sur-
mounted ! Those curiosities, however, have been sacrificed
to the dulness or the timidity of the historians of the seven-
teenth century, and little remains of him but an outline
which it is now too late to endeavour to fill up.

Henry Fitzalan, the last Earl of Arundel of his family, was
born in 1512, the only son of William, the ninth Earl, by
Anne, second daughter of Henry, fourth Earl of Northum-
berland of the Percys. He had passed the age of thirty
before he succeeded, on his father's death, to the titles and
great estates of his ancestors, and his life had been till then
confined, according to the rule of domestic subordination

II. K

130 HENRY FITZALAN,

which generally prevailed in that time, to the sports of the
field, and the festivities and warlike exercises of the Court.
In the summer, however, of the following year, 1544, he
attended Henry in his splendid voyage to Boulogne, and was
appointed, on his arrival there, Field Marshal of the army
then employed in the remarkable siege of that town, under
the command of Brandon, Duke of Suffolk. The success of
the enterprise was at least completed by his vigilance and
courage. In the night of the eleventh of September, after
the siege had been carried on for six weeks, he marched the
squadron committed to his charge close under the walls, and
there awaited the event of a furious discharge of cannon
which played on them over his head. It proved fortunate :
a breach was effected : and he, at the head of his troops, first
entered the town, which two days after capitulated. The
King rewarded this service by a grant of the Government of
Calais, and of the office of Comptroller of the Royal House-
hold. Henry loved bravery, but he loved yet better implicit
obedience, of which he received shortly after from this noble-
man a remarkable proof. He had been appointed with
others, to negotiate a treaty with the Scots, the terms pro-
posed for which had received the unanimous approbation of
the Council, but were secretly disliked by the King. Henry,
unwilling to disoblige his ministers, permitted them to write
in his name to the Earl to conclude the treaty, but in the
same hour commanded Cecil, whom he had lately received
into much confidence, to repair privately to the Earl, in
Scotland, and to tell him that, whatsoever he, the King, had
ordered by his letter, it was his Majesty's pleasure that he
should immediately break up the treaty. Cecil observing to
the King, to use the words of my author, " that a message by
word of mouth, being contrary to his letter, would never be
believed ; ' Well,' said the King, ' do you tell him as I bid
you, and leave the doing of it to his own choice.' Upon Mr.
Cecil's arrival, the Earl of Arundel showed the other com-
missioners as well the message as the letter : they are all for

EAKL OF ABUNDEL. 131

the letter. He said nothing, but ordered that the message
should be written, and signed by his fellow-commissioners ;
and thereupon immediately broke up the treaty, sending
Cecil with the advertisement of it to the King, who, as soon
as he saw him, asked aloud — ' What, will he do it, or no ? '
Cecil replied, that his Majesty might understand that by the
inclosed ; but then the King, half angry, urged — ' Nay, tell
me, will he do it, or no ? ' Being then told it was done, he
returned to the Lords, and said, ' Now you will hear news,
the fine treaty is broken ; ' whereto one presently answered,
that he who had broke it deserved to lose his head ; to which
the King straightly replied, that he would lose a dozen such
heads as his was that so judged rather than one such servant
as had done it, and therewith commanded the Earl of
Arundel's pardon should be presently drawn up, the which
he sent, with letters of thanks, and assurance of favour."
Henry, soon after his return, appointed him Lord Chamber-
lain, and, in his last moments, which indeed were then
approaching, distinguished him by naming him one of the
guardians of the infant successor.

In the great conflict for power between Seymour and
Dudley which agitated the following reign, it was scarcely
possible for any eminent person connected with the state or
court to remain neuter. The Earl of Arundel, who con-
tinued Lord Chamberlain, seems to have endeavoured to keep
that course for a time, but at length joined the faction of
U'.mvick, and when the first storm broke out against the
Protector, was appointed, partly from confidence, and in some
measure in consideration of his high office in the household,
one of the six Lords under whose care, or rather in whose
custody, the King was placed, to frustrate any attempt by the
other party to seize his person. It was not possible, how-
ever, that two such men should remain long united. The
grand features of Warwick's disposition were, an ambition
wholly unprincipled, and a violence of temper which broke
through all the bounds of prudence ; while Arundel, to use

132 HENRY FITZALAtf,

the words of Sir John Hayward, perhaps the only writer of
credit who has left us any glimpse of the character of his
mind, was " in his nature circumspect and slow," as well as
of undoubted probity. Scarcely three months had passed,
when the Earl was suddenly deprived of his post, and of his
seat in the Privy Council, and strange accusations, which
have been most obscurely recorded, were preferred against
him, and some other great men. All that we can learn on
this head is, that he was charged with " having taken away
bolts and locks at Westminster" (probably meaning from
the palace, where Edward was in a manner imprisoned), and
that he " had given away the King's stuff." The tribunal,
probably the packed remains of Warwick's Council, which
affected to take cognizance of these alleged offences, com-
mitted him for a time to the Tower, fined him in twelve
thousand pounds, to be paid at the rate of one thousand
pounds yearly, and afterwards banished him to one of his
country seats. " Doubtless," says Hayward on this head,
" the Earl of Warwick had good reason to suspect that they
who had the honesty not to approve his purpose would not
want the heart to oppose against it."

The Earl of Arundel retired accordingly, and lived in
privacy till the King's death, soon after which he appeared
among the foremost of the supporters of Mary's title to the
Crown ; yet Jane Grey, under the advice of her father-in-law,
Dudley, now Duke of Northumberland, who was perhaps
willing to magnify her strength by concealing her weakness,
charged those to whom she wrote to levy forces for the
furtherance of her claim, to make no application to the
servants and tenants of Arundel, " relying on them other-
wise for her service." The Earl, however, appeared presently
after at the great meeting of Mary's friends at Baynard's
Castle, and addressed them with a fervour of eloquence and
reasoning which has preserved at least the substance of his
speech from oblivion. " In this assembly," says Hayward,
"the Earl of Arundel fell foul upon Northum » i land with

EARL OP ARUNDEL. 133

the utmost severity. He ran over the history of the late
times, and reckoning up every act of mismanagement, cruelty,
and injustice, committed in King Edward the Sixth's reign,
threw the odium of all upon him only. Then he made expos-
tulating complaints that the children of Henry the Eighth
should, contrary to all right, be thrust from the succession, and
professed himself amazed to think how Northumberland had
brought such great and noble persons, meaning those present,
to so mean servitude as to be made the tools of his wicked
designs ; for it was by their consent and assistance that the
Crown was put upon the daughter of Suffolk, the same
Northumberland's daughter-in-law, the sovereignty in fact
remaining in him of exercising the most uncontrollable rage
and tyranny over their lives and fortunes. To accomplish
this usurpation indeed, the cause of religion was pretended ;
but, though they had forgot the Apostle's advice, ' not to do
evil that good may follow ; and to obey even bad Princes, not
out of fear, but for conscience' sake ;' yet who, he asked, had
seen cause to think that in matters of religion Queen Mary
intended any alteration ? for, when she was lately addressed
about this in Suffolk, she had (which indeed was true) given
a very fair, satisfactory answer ; and ' what a madness is it,'
says he, ' for men to throw themselves into certain destruction,
to avoid uncertain danger !' I heartily wish there had been
no such transgression ; but, since there has, the best remedy
for a past error is a timely repentance ; wherefore it is my
advice that we all join our utmost endeavours, that so, by
our authority, Mary, the rightful and undoubted heiress of
these kingdoms, may be proclaimed Queen."

The accession of that Princess to the throne without blood-
shed may perhaps be reasonably ascribed to this well-timed
harangue, and to the vigour and good judgment with which
the Earl pursued the course which he had so warmly advised.
The assembly, wound up to a pitch of enthusiasm, rose, and
instantly accompanied him into the city, where, having
obtained the attendance of the Lord Mayor and Aldermen,

134 HENRY FITZALAN,

they proclaimed Mary with universal applause. This done,
he took horse the same evening ; rode into Suffolk, where
she was then awaiting the issue of the contest, to communicate
the tidings, and receive her commands ; and, on the following
day, personally arrested the Duke of Northumberland at
Cambridge, and led him, a prisoner, towards the Tower of
London. It is astonishing that such mighty measures should
have been proposed and executed in the space of three days ;
but the whole was actually accomplished on the nineteenth,
twentieth, and twenty-first of July, 1553.

Mary acknowledged these eminent services with becoming
gratitude ; distinguished him during her short reign by the
most perfect confidence ; and bestowed on him the offices of
President of her Council, and Steward of her household. He
was also elected Chancellor of the University of Oxford soon
after her accession, a dignity which he of course resigned on
the re-establishment of the Protestant Church by Elizabeth.
He was not less favoured however by that Princess, who con-
tinued him in the post of Lord Steward, and complimented
the high antiquity of his name and titles with the exalted
appointments of High Constable, and High Steward of Eng-
land, at her coronation. He was even one among the few of
her eminent subjects who flattered themselves, and had in
all probability been flattered by her, with the hope of gaining
her hand. It should seem indeed that he had explicitly
offered himself, and been rejected ; for Dugdale, quoting, I
believe erroneously, Camden, says, " Having fed himself with
hopes of obtaining Queen Elizabeth for his wife, and failing
therein, after he had spent much upon these vain imagina-
tions, his friends in Court failing him, he grew troubled in
mind, and thereupon, to wear off the grief, got leave to travel."
This happened in 1561. How long he now remained abroad
does not appear, but he was in London in December 1565,
when he again obtained a license to leave England, and went
soon after into Italy, where he seems to have sojourned for
four years. In his long absence from his own country he con-

EARL OF ABUNDEL. 135

traded a great fondness for foreign fashions, several of which,
on his return, he introduced here, particularly the use of
coaches, the first of which ever seen in England was kept by
himself.

He seems to have been entirely disengaged from public
affairs till the year 1569, when he was appointed one of the
Commissioners to inquire into the murder of Henry. King of
Scotland, of which he avowed his opinion that Mary was
innocent. His generous nature loathed the snares with
which Elizabeth and her ministers surrounded that unhappy
Princess, and, in a debate in the Privy Council on the sug-
gestion of some new artifice against her, he had the boldness
to say, in the Queen's presence, that " the wisdom of the
former age was so provident that it needed not, and so plain
that it endured not, such shifts." That which was called
Mary's party, now reckoned on his uniform support, but his
sense of loyalty and justice was as pure as his frankness and
impartiality, and when Leicester imparted to him the plan
secretly formed for a marriage between the Queen of Scots
and the Duke of Norfolk, whose first lady was Arundel's
daughter, he declared that he would oppose it to the utmost,
unless it were previously sanctioned by Elizabeth's consent.
His intercourse, however, with Mary's friends rendered him
an object of suspicion, and in 1572 he suffered a short im-
prisonment in the Tower, after which he sunk gradually in
his mistress's favour, and at length wholly lost it by his
determined opposition to her matrimonial treaty with the
Duke of Anjou. From that time to his death he remained
in retirement. " About the beginning of this year," says
Carnden, in his annals of Elizabeth, 1580, " Henry Fitzalan,
Earl of 'Arundel, rendered his soul to God, in whom was
extinct the surname of this most noble family, which had
flourished with great honour for three hundred years and more,
from the time of Richard Fitzalan, who, being descended
from the Albeneys, ancient Earls of Arundel and Sussex in
the reign of Edward the First, received the title of Earl,

136 HENRY FITZALAN, EBRL OP ARUNDEL.

without any creation, in regard of his being possessed of the
Castle and Honour of Arundel." He married, first, Catherine,
daughter of Thomas Grey, second Marquis of Dorset, by
whom he had three children, all of whom he outlived ;
Henry, who died at Brussels, young, and unmarried ; Joan,
married to John, Lord Lumley ; and Mary, to Thomas,
Duke of Norfolk, in right of descent from whose son, Philip,
first Earl of Arundel of the Howards, the present Duke of
Norfolk, enjoys that remarkable Earldom, under the tenure
so clearly stated by Camden in the foregoing passage, which
I have inserted for the sake of elucidating a frequently dis-
puted point. His second lady was Mary, daughter of Sir
John Arundel, of Lanherne, in Cornwall, and widow of
Robert Radclyffe, Earl of Sussex, by whom he had no issue.

,'LAS,

OB. 1581,

JAMES DOUGLAS,

FOURTH EARL OF MORTON.

JAMES DOUGLAS, third Earl of Morton, having no male
issue, obtained, on the twenty-second of April, 1543, a royal
charter entailing his Earldom, and the chief of his estates, on
the youngest of his three daughters, Elizabeth, and her hus-
band, James, second son of Sir George Douglas, brother to
Archibald Earl of Angus, by Elizabeth, daughter and heir of
David Douglas, of Pittendreath, and their heirs male. In
right of that settlement James, on the death of his father-in-
law in 1553, succeeded to the dignity. He will be the
subject of this memoir.

The enmity of James the Fifth of Scotland to the great
House of Angus, and its causes, are well known to all readers
of the history of that country. In the year 1529, the Earl
of Angus, and his brother, Sir George, were declared guilty of
high treason : their great estates were forfeited, and they fled,
with their families, to England, where they remained for
fourteen years. Under these untoward circumstances, the
education of James, then a boy, is said to have been almost
wholly neglected. He was committed to the care of a trusty
person of inferior rank ; assumed the name of Innes ; and,
as he approached to manhood, was engaged to serve in the
household of some person of quality in the capacity of
steward, or chamberlain. The King's death, at the close of
the year 1542, withdrew him from this seclusion ; he returned
to Scotland with his relations, and having made the advanta-
geous match which has been already mentioned, took on

138 JAMES DOUGLAS,

himself, according to the custom of the country, the designa-
tion of Master of Morton. His expectations at this period
were peculiarly lofty. He was nearly related to royalty, both
in his blood and by his marriage, and his capacious and
haughty mind, however uncultivated, was amply impressed
by the importance of his station.

His entrance into public life seemed to be marked by ill
fortune, but chance, or his own dexterity, or both, turned it
to his advantage. On the invasion of his country by the
English in 1544, he garrisoned, and bravely defended, the
castle of Dalkeith, one of the mansions of his family, and
probably his place of residence ; but, in a similar endeavour
in 1547, after the defeat of Musselborough, was compelled to
surrender it, and was himself led by the victorious Earl of
Hertford to England, where he remained a prisoner of war
for several years. During that period it has been said that
he formed intimacies, and made engagements, which at
length bound him to forward the views of this country in
Scotland, and that he was placed on the height to which he
afterwards attained rather by the predominant influence of
the English crown than by the power of his own family, or
the extent of his talents. For a considerable time, however,
after his return he lived in utter privacy, applying himself to
those studies which had been denied to his youth, and to the
improvement of his dilapidated estates ; nor was it till 1559
that he emerged from his retirement, when he suddenly stood
forward as a patron of the reformers, and enrolled himself
among those persons of quality who then took on themselves
the style of " Lords of the Congregation." In the following
year the Queen Regent, Mary of Guise, expired, and the
Parliament, which provisionally assumed the government,
dispatched him, together with the Earl of Glencairn, and
Maitland of Lethington, on an embassy to Elizabeth, by whom
they were most graciously received ; and in this visit to her
court Morton's attachment to the English interest was
probably confirmed.

FOURTH EARL OF MORTON. 139

On the arrival of Mary Stuart from France, in 1561, he
was sworn of her Privy Council ; and early in 1503, suc-
ceeded George, Earl of Huntley, in the office of Lord High
Chancellor. He had gained no small degree of favour with
Mary by his approbation of her match with Darnley, though
it arose from motives of pride and interest, for Darnley was
his relation : on the other hand, his connection with Murray,
the leader of the reformers, who had been exiled for his fierce
opposition to it, rendered him an object of her suspicion.
The affections of Mary regarding him were thus balanced
when the assassination of Rizzio in 1566 drew down on him
her most deadly hatred. That enormity was the result of a
regular treaty between the King and Morton, by which the
former had agreed to defend the reformed religion, and to
procure a pardon for Murray and his associates ; and the
Earl, on his part, to secure Henry's succession to the sovereign
authority in the event of his surviving the Queen, and to
contrive and superintend the murder of the unworthy
favourite ; and this he did, even in person, for he led the
armed force which surrounded the palace during the perpe-
tration of it. Rizzio was scarcely dead, when Murray, and
the other exiled Lords, recalled, as has been just now
observed, at the instance of Morton, arrived at Edinburgh.
Mary, anxious to oppose them to the King's faction, received
them as friends, and they, in an affectation of gratitude to
Morton, besought her to promise him her pardon. She yielded
to their request, and even admitted him to her presence, but
was secretly inexorable, and on the very same day persuaded
the weak and worthless Darnley to abandon the guilty instru-
ment of his vengeance ; to fly privately with her to Dunbar ;
and there to collect a military force, for the purpose of
wresting the capital from Morton and his party, and of sacri-
ficing them to her anger. Murray, tempted by her promises,
as readily deserted his benefactor ; and Morton, deprived of
his great office, and presently after of his estates, once more
took refuge in England.

140 JAMES DOUGLAS,

His exile was short. Bothwell, now unhappily the object
of Mary's partiality, sought the aid of all parties to the wild
design he secretly entertained of sharing with her the Throne.
The power, the talents, and the courage of Morton, and per-
haps the readiness with which he had so lately undertaken
a base and horrible assassination, combined to recommend
him ; and Bothwell, to whom Mary could then deny nothing,
obtained his pardon with little difficulty, communicated to
him the dreadful project which had been conceived to destroy
the King, and solicited his advice and assistance in the exe-
cution of it. Morton hesitated, not from dictates of con-
science but of caution, for his answer was that he would not
engage in it unless he had an order to secure him under the
Queen's sign manual ; and, in the same spirit, he took care
to be at the distance of twenty miles from Edinburgh when
the deed was perpetrated there. It was followed by Mary's
infamous marriage to Bothwell, and the consequent associa-
tion of a considerable number of the most powerful of the
Scottish nobility, for the protection of the young Prince, to
possess himself of whose person he had left no means untried
but those of force. Morton joined them with apparent zeal
and alacrity ; encouraged them to take up arms ; and com-
manded one of the two battalions into which they divided a
force hastily raised for the capture of Bothwell. It is need-
less to dwell here on events which form one of the most
striking epochs in the history of Scotland. Mary, who was
with Bothwell at Dunbar, surrounded by some troops,
endeavoured to arrest the march of the confederates by pro-
posals of treaty, and offers of pardon ; but Morton, whom
they had agreed should take the lead, answered that they
came not against the Queen, but to demand the murderer of
the King : not to seek pardon for their offences, but to grant
pardon to such as might appear to deserve it. They
advanced ; Bothwell, doubtless through the connivance of
Morton, was suffered to escape ; and Mary, submitting to a
hard but deserved necessity, surrendered her person on con-

FOURTH EARL OF MORTON. 141

ditions which were no sooner made than broken, and was
the next day led a prisoner by Morton to the castle of
Lochleven, and placed in the custody of the owner, William
Douglas, his near relation.

A resignation of the Crown to her infant son was now
extorted from her, and Murray was appointed to the Regency.
Morton, who to eminent general capacity united that coolness
and subtlety which the fury of the time rendered peculiarly
necessary to a minister, became the chief adviser of his
measures, and the most distinguished object of his favour.
On the eleventh of November, 1567, the Regent restored him
to the great office of Chancellor, and in the following month
appointed him, on the forfeiture of Bothwell, hereditary
High Admiral of Scotland, and Sheriff of Edinburgh. So
universal was the confidence reposed in him by Murray,
that, in the spring of the following year, when Mary escaped
from Lochleven, and appeared at the head of an army, he
was chosen to command the van of the Regent's troops in
the battle of Langside, that unfortunate action which fatally
compelled her to seek refuge in England. Morton presently
followed her thither. He was the Regent's principal coad-
jutor in the celebrated conference on her case instituted by
Elizabeth at York, and afterwards removed to Westminster,
and maintained throughout the whole of that tedious scene
of solemn deception a secret correspondence with Cecil,
which, while it injured to the last degree the already dis-
tracted interests of Mary, contributed in no small degree to
increase that dependence of Scotland on the will of Eliza-
beth, which has been usually charged to the condescensions
of Murray.

A year had scarcely passed after the close of this negotia-
tion, for so it might be called, when Murray fell by the hand
of an assassin. Great disorders arose : a powerful party
appeared in arms for the Queen ; and Morton, who had for
the time placed himself at the head of the government,
preferred to Elizabeth a welcome suit for her interposition.

142 JAMES DOUGLAS,

The King's party, as it was called, prevailed ; and, under
her auspices, the Earl of Lenox, father of Darnley, and
consequently Mary's implacable enemy, was elected to the
Regency. A treaty was now established for the restoration
of Mary, at least to her liberty, and Morton was placed at the
head of the three commissioners named by the Regent. The
professions of Elizabeth, at whose motion it was commenced,
seemed at length to be sincere ; but, on the meeting in London
of the parties delegated by the three powers, Morton, with
a warmth by no means consistent with his character, asserted
in high terms the justice of limiting the power of Princes,
and the inherent right of resistance in subjects ; and Eliza-
beth, with whom it can scarcely be doubted that a proposed
discussion on subjects in that age esteemed so monstrous had
been previously concerted, testified the utmost indignation,
and broke up the congress. Scotland, in the mean time, was
distracted by the excesses of the contending factions. A
Parliament chosen by the King's party was sitting at Stirling ;
another, elected by the Queen's, at Edinburgh. On the
third of September, 1571, some of Mary's friends, led by the
celebrated Kirkaldy of Grange, made a sudden attack on the
former, and seized the persons of the Regent and his prin-
cipal nobles. Morton, who had lately arrived from England,
alone resisted. He defended his house with obstinate cou-
rage till the assailants forced him to surrender by setting fire
to it. The sole important consequence of this furious enter-
prise was the death of Lenox, who was killed in the tumult
by an unknown hand, for the party, which was very small,
and had owed a momentary success merely to the unex-
pectedness of its attack, was presently dispersed by the
soldiers of the garrison, and the people of the town. The
Earls of Mar, Morton, and Argyll, presently appeared as
candidates for the Regency, and the former gained the
election.

Mar held that high office scarcely for one year. Morton,
in whose hands the two preceding Regents had in fact lodged

FOURTH EARL OF MORTON.

the whole direction of the State, still ruled it with unim-
paired sway, and the weight of his talents, and the extent of
his domains, rendered any endeavour to remove him at once
inconvenient and dangerous. In the mean time, he avenged
the secret vexation which the disappointment of his pre-
tensions to the Regency had excited by thwarting the
measures of his successful rival, and opposing to his sincere
efforts for the establishment of public tranquillity all the
artifices of factious intrigue. Mar, a man of moderate
intellect and delicate fibre, fell a sacrifice to the contest, and
in November, 1572, Morton, chiefly through the powerful aid
of Elizabeth, was chosen to succeed him without opposition.
Sensible, from the effects of his aversion to peace while oe
was the second person in the State, how necessary it was to
him in his new station, he now opened a treaty with the
Queen's party. It was divided into two factions, the one
headed by the Duke of Chatelherault and the Earl of Huntly,
the other by Maitland and Kirkaldy ; the former, of great
personal weight, and actuated by motives of cool policy ; the-
latter, distinguished by superior talents nd earnest zeal. He
determined, while he offered terms to each, to treat sepa-
rately with the first, and to sacrifice the second to his resent-
ment, and the event amply proved the depth of his policy.
The Duke and Huntly eagerly accepted his proposals, but
Maitland and Kirkaldy, who possessed the Castle of Edin-
burgh, enraged at his duplicity, commenced open hostilities
by firing on the city. Elizabeth, secretly a party to the
plan, sent a considerable military fo^ce to Morton's aid, in
direct violation of a treaty which she had lately concluded
with France, and the two gallant chiefs surrendered to her
troops, and were perfidiously placed by her general in the
hands of the Regent, who put Kirkaldy to an ignominious
death, while Maitland, to avoid a similar fate, destroyed
himself in his prison. By these events, which however
terminated the civil war in Scotland, the interests of Mary in
her own country were utterly overthrown.

144 JAMES DOUGLAS,

The nation now expected a benign and prudent admini-
stration, and was disappointed. A fierce and tyrannical
spirit, which he had long disguised by deep artifice, began to
manifest itself in Morton. He was discovered to be avari-
cious and cruel. In the affairs of the church he enriched
himself by simoniacal bargains, and impoverished even the
inferior clergy by extorting from them portions of their
incomes, under the pretence of forming regulations to better
their condition. He alienated from him the affections of the
commonalty by innumerable fines exacted in the way of
composition for real or supposed offences, which they were
frequently compelled to confess by torture. The nobility
became at length the objects of his oppression and treachery,
and in that simple spirit of haughty fierceness which then
distinguished them, carried their complaints of him to the
King. James had not fully reached his twelfth year, but
the period of royal majority was not yet clearly defined, and
his mere name was a tower of strength. The Earls of Argyll
and Athol, two of the most powerful among the Peers of
Scotland, headed the cabal which was formed against the
Regent. The King, at their request, signed letters calling a
council of such nobles as they proposed to him, which deter-
mined that the Chancellor, Lord Glamis, should demand of
Morton his resignation of the Regency ; and he submitted even
with apparent joy, and accompanied them for that purpose
to Edinburgh, where James's acceptance of the sovereign
authority was immediately proclaimed.

Morton retired to one of his seats, and affected to devote
himself to the usual occupations of a rural life. This, how-
ever, was but refined dissimulation. He meditated incessantly
the means of regaining his public importance ; and the vio-
lence with which his adversaries pursued their vengeance
against him after his retreat aided his views. Their popu-
larity presently declined. The nation saw the King and the
Government in the hands of Papists, and Morton was still
held as the chief protector of the kirk. The ungenerous

FOURTH EARL OF MORTON. 145

persecution of a fallen enemy, as he was deemed, was loudly
censured ; he discovered that he was yet master of a powerful
party, and resolved to ground his hopes on the issue of one
of those hold and irregular enterprises so frequent in the
eventful history of his time. James, the care of whose
person had been committed to the Earl of Mar, still remained
in the nominal custody of that nobleman's heir, whose youth
rendering him unfit to hold so important a trust, it was
sustained provisionally by his uncle, Alexander Erskine,
Morton's bitter enemy. Morton now successfully insinuated
to the young Earl and his mother that Alexander had formed
a design to deprive his nephew of that distinguished honour,
as well as of the government of Stirling Castle, in which the
King resided ; and Mar, in a transport of fury, aggravated by
the suggestions of his ambitious mother, flew to Stirling ;
dismissed his uncle ; and made himself master of the King's
person, and of the strong garrison by which it was guarded.
Morton presently followed him ; took his place in the terri-
fied Privy Council ; and called a Parliament, in the King's
name, to meet within the castle, which confirmed James's
assumption of the government ; ratified a general pardon
which had been granted to Morton on his relinquishing the
functions of Regent ; and voted a pension to the Countess of
Mar, who had in fact been the chief instrument of working
this singular change.

Both parties now appeared in arms, and took the field with
considerable strength, but an accommodation was made by the
mediation of Elizabeth, to whose will Morton always implicitly
submitted. Some of the most eminent of his opponents were
admitted into the Privy Council ; a convention of the Nobility
was chosen, to which the two factions agreed to refer their
differences ; and an apparent reconciliation succeeded ; but
it was followed by a horrible circumstance, which, with too
much probability, was ascribed to the vindictive spirit of
Morton. To celebrate the accord which had been thus
accomplished, he gave a banquet to the leaders of his late

II. L

146 JAMES DOUGLAS,

enemies, immediately after which the Earl of Athol, High
Chancellor, a man of eminent abilities, and his constant
opponent, was suddenly taken ill, and died within four days,
with the strongest suspicions of poison : Morton, however,
succeeded in turning this tragical event to his advantage, and
purchased the powerful support of Argyll, by bestowing on
him the elevated office of his late principal coadjutor. Hav-
ing thus divided and weakened the potent band which had
been arrayed against him, he poured the full tide of his ven-
geance on the great House of Hamilton, his calm but steady
adversaries, in a- persecution which, as it is rather largely
stated in a section of this work to which it more properly
appertains, need not be here repeated.

Morton perhaps enjoyed at this time a more extensive power
than had distinguished any former period of his long and event-
ful administration, yet utter ruin advanced towards him with
hasty strides from an unseen and unexpected quarter. James,
now in the fifteenth year of his age, exercised independently
many of the functions of a monarch, and more of the faculties
of a man. The violent and thoughtless personal attachments
which disgraced the whole of his long reign had naturally at
this season their fullest scope, and two youthful favourites, of
his own blood, Esme Stewart, of the House of Lenox, and
James Stewart, a younger son of the Lord Ochiltree, on whom
he conferred the highest dignities and the most splendid
appointments, engrossed his affections, and directed his con-
duct. With the carelessness and confidence which suited
their time of life, they shared the kindness of their master
without jealousy ; but, in the love of power which belongs
to all ages, Morton's authority became odious to them, and
they combined to overthrow it. His danger was presently
evident, and he endeavoured to obviate it by firm and deci-
sive measures. He denounced Stewart Lenox, who was in
fact a Roman Catholic, to the clergy, as a secret agent from
the Pope, and to the State, as an emissary from the Guises ;
but Lenox made a public abjuration of the Romish faith,

FOURTH EARL OF MORTOX. 147

and embraced the communion of the Church of Scotland. In
the mean time Morton's ancient enemies took advantage of
his embarrassment, and spread a report that he was preparing
to seize the King, and to carry him into England. He sought,
as usual, the protection of Elizabeth, who instructed her
Ambassador to charge Lenox as a secret enemy to the peace
of the two kingdoms, and to require his removal from the
Privy Council ; but that body, as well as the King, refused
with coolness, not to say disdain, to listen to her instances.
At the close of this contest, Stewart of Ochiltree, whose com-
parative insignificance had rendered him a secondary object
of apprehension, suddenly appeared in the council-chamber
where James was then sitting, and falling on his knees,
accused Morton, who was present, of being accessory to the
murder of the late King.

The general pardon which Morton had received, however
particular in the enumeration of causes which might possibly
render him liable to prosecution, had left that frightful subject
untouched. It was well known that he was privy to the
design, and his concealment of it has been already stated.
He was arrested, and. as an earnest of the fate he might
expect, was committed successively to the custody of two
of his most determined enemies — Alexander Erskine, and
Lenox, governors of the castles of Edinburgh and Dun-
barton. Elizabeth interposed to save him with a zeal and
earnestness which left no doubt of her obligations to his
secret agency. She despatched Randolph, one of her ablest
diplomatists, to represent in the warmest colours, not only to
the King and Council, but to a Convention of the Estates,
the merits and services of Morton ; to require the fullest
and fairest inquiry into the true merits of the allegations
urged against him ; to insist again on the dismissal of
Lenox ; and even to offer, should force appear necessary
to the accomplishment of those objects, any degree of aid,
either of men or money, which might be deemed requisite
L 2

148 JAMES DOUGLAS, FOURTH EARL OF MORTON.

to that end. To these persuasions she added a silent menace
of no small weight, by sending an army to the borders.

James however, indeed Scotland, remained equally un-
moved by her remonstrances or her preparations. Morton
was brought to trial on the first of June, 1581, and found
guilty of being, to use the language of the Scottish law, art
and part in Darnley's murder. The records of the Court of
Justiciary, appertaining to that period, are not extant, and
historical writers, biassed by party spirit, differ in their
reports of the proceedings against him ; but thus much is
certain, that after his sentence had been passed, he distinctly
owned Bothwell's disclosure to him of the intended assassi-
nation. On the following day he was led to execution ; his
enemy, Stewart of Ochiltree, commanding in person the
soldiers who guarded the scaffold, a shocking instance of the
barbarous rudeness of the time. He confessed there that it
was his design to have sent James into England, but alleged
that the resolution was dictated by an opinion that it would
be proper that the King should in his youth reside at intervals
among a people over whom he was one day to reign ; and
that he considered it to be necessary towards securing the
succession to the Crown of that country. He suffered death
with great firmness, and a decent show of piety and resigna-
tion. Morton left no issue.

•^

;, OF SUSSEX.
OB, 1583,

THOMAS RADCLYFFE,

EARL OF SUSSEX.

THE circumstances, important as they were, of the life of
this very great and good man, have been suffered till this
day to lie scattered on the page of history ; and in the num-
ber, which is not inconsiderable, of biographical omissions,
no one has appeared to me so remarkable. Neither has his
portrait (with one or two exceptions, so mean as scarcely to
challenge recollection,) been delivered to us by the graver. In
a former work I gave a very slight sketch of his character,
merely in a note, for the re-publication here of a few sentences
from which, perhaps, no apology may be necessary. " This
great man's conduct united all the splendid qualities of those
eminent persons who jointly rendered Elizabeth's court an
object of admiration to Europe, and was perfectly free from
their faults. Wise and loyal as Burghley, without his blind
attachment to the monarch; vigilant as Walsingham, but
disdaining his cunning ; magnificent as Leicester, but incapa-
ble of hypocrisy ; and brave as Raleigh, with the piety of a
primitive Christian ; he seemed above the common objects of
human ambition, and wanted, if the expression may be
allowed, those dark shades of character which make men
the heroes of history." Such was the man whose story has
never yet been collectively imparted to the world.

He was born in 1526, the eldest son of Henry, second Earl
of Sussex of the Radclyffes, by his first lady, Elizabeth,
daughter of Thomas Howard, second Duke of Norfolk. He
was bred a statesman from his early youth, and was not only

150 THOMAS BADCLTFFE,

sent Ambassador by Queen Mary to the Emperor Charles the
Fifth, and then to his son, Philip the Fourth of Spain, to
treat of her projected marriage to the latter Prince, but filled
for a time the office of Lord Deputy of Ireland, before he had
attained his thirtieth year. Shortly after his father's death,
which happened in 1556, he was appointed Chief Justice of
the Royal Forests south of Trent, and in 1557, being then a
Knight of the Garter, held the place of Captain of the Pen-
sioners, and had a renewal of his commission as Lord Deputy.
Elizabeth also named him to that office immediately after she
had mounted the throne ; and in 1561 constituted him her
Lieutenant and Governor-General in Ireland. In 1566 he
was sent to Germany, to invest the Emperor Maximilian the
Second with the Order of the Garter, and returned to Vienna
in the following year, commissioned to treat of a marriage
between that Prince's brother, the Archduke Charles, and
Elizabeth. In 1569 he was appointed President of the North,
a situation in those times always of the highest trust and
importance, and at that peculiar juncture rendered infinitely
difficult by the singular state of her affairs with Scotland, and
the turbulent spirit of the border counties. Those circum-
stances led him now for the first time to assume a military
character : he placed himself at the head of the troops in that
quarter, and, while he wisely administered the civil affairs of
his government by his orders from the camp, commanded
with equal bravery and skill in a number of those predatory
incursions to which the border-warfare was then confined.
While he was employed in these services he was sworn of
the Privy Council.

He returned, after two years' absence, to the melancholy
duty of sitting in judgment with his peers, on Thomas, fourth
Duke of Norfolk, who was not only his kinsman, but his
most dear friend, and whose ruin might be traced, in a great
measure, to his neglect of the Earl's advice. Of Sussex's
suffrage on that occasion we are ignorant, but I believe the
twenty-five Lords by whom the Duke was tried, were unani-

EARL OF SUSSEX. 151

mous in their verdict. Be this as it may, the unfortunate
Norfolk left a dying testimony of his affection to a judge
whom he knew to he impartial. His last request was that
his best George, Chain, and Garter, might be given to his
Lord of Sussex. 1572, having become infirm, though scarcely
beyond the prime of life, he retired from severer duties to
the office of Lord Chamberlain of the Household, which he
held till his death. His last public service was in the treaty
of 1582 with the commissioners sent from Paris, to negotiate
the long agitated treaty of marriage of Elizabeth with the
Duke of Anjou.

It may not be too much to say that in the list of her coun-
sellors she trusted this nobleman above all others ; certain it
is that no one among them so entirely deserved her confi-
dence. Both these opinions are justified by the voice of
histoiy, and proved by his own letters, many of which I am
proud of having formerly been the instrument of first pro-
ducing to the world. He was probably in the strictest sense
of the phrase, her privy counsellor, and therefore little of his
political story has been within the reach of the historian.
Between him and Leicester the most pure hatred subsisted,
and Elizabeth, who there is strong reason to suspect dreaded
the resentment of the latter rather from private than public
motives, perhaps durst not consult his great enemy but in
secret. Sussex in his confidential letters to her, addressed
her with the freedom, as well as the kindness, of a friend :
writing to her, at great length, on the twenty-eighth of
August, 1578, on the question of the French marriage, which
was then first agitated, he uses these expressions : — " You
shall, by the helpe of your husband, be habell to compell the
K. of Spayne to take reasonabell condytyons of his subjects
in the Lowe Contryes, and the Stats to take reasonabell con-
dytyons of ther K. so as he may have that which before God
and man dothe justely belong to him, and they may enjoye
ther lybertyes, fredomes, and all other thynges that is feete
for ther quyett and suertye, in bodyes, goods, conscyences.

152 THOMAS RADCLYFFE,

and ly ves ; wherby you shall avoyde grete effusyon of Crystyen
blodd, and shall have the honor and reward, dew in this
wordell and by God, to so gracyouse, godly, and Crystyen
aciyons : and herewith, for the more suerty of all persones
and mattrs, yourselfe maye have in your owne hands some
marytyme porte, to be by you kepte, at the charge of the K.
of Spayne ; and your husband maye have some frontyer
townes in lyke sorte ; and bothe to be contynued for such a
nomber of yeres as may bryng a settelyng of suerty to all
respects ; by which meanes you shall also be delyvered from
perrells, at home and abrode, that maye growe from the K. of
Spayne. And, yf you lyke not of this corse in dealyng for
the Lowe Gentry es, you may joyne with your husband, and
so, betwene you, attempte to possesse the hole Lowe Con-
tryes, and drawe the same to the Crowne of England, yf you
have eny chyld by him ; or, yf you have none, to devyde
them betwene the realmes of England and Fraunce, as shall
oe mettest for ether ; but, to be playne with your Majeste,
I do not thynk this corse to be so juste, so godly, so honor-
abell, nor, when it is loked into the bottome, so suer for you
and your State as the other, although at the first syght it do
perhaps carrye in she we some plausybylyte," &c.

From this instance of the manner of his private correspon-
dence, we will turn to an example of the more studied style
which he used in his quality of an Ambassador. In a letter
from Vienna of the eighteenth of October, 1567, he thus
describes the Archduke Charles : — " His Highnes is of person
higher suerly a good deale then my L. Marques : his heare of
heade and bearde of a lighte aborne : his face well propor-
cioned, amiable, and of a very good compleccon, without
shewe of readnesse or over paleness ; his countenance and
speche cherefull, very curteowse, and not withowte some
state : his body wellshaped, withowte deformitie or blemishe :
his hands very good and fayer : his leggs cleane, well propor-
cioned, and of sufficiant bignes for his stature : his fote as
good as may be : so as, upon my dutie to your Majeste, I find

EARL OF SUSSEX. 153

not one deformitie, mis-shape, or any thynge to be noted
worthy mislikinge, in his hole person ; but, contrarywise, I
find his hole shape to be good, worthy comendacyon and
likynge in all respects, and such as is rarely to be founde in
such a Prince. His Highnes, besids his naturall language of
Duche, speaketh very well Spanish and Italien, and as I heare,
Latine. His dealyngs with me be very wise ; his conversa-
cyon such as moche contenteth me ; and, as I heare, none
retorneth discontented from his company. He is greatly
beloved here of all men. The chefest gallants of these parts
be his men, and follow his Corte : the moste of them have
travelled other contreis, speake many languags, and behave
themselfs therafter ; and truly we can not be so gladde there
to have him come to us, as they wilbe sadde here to have him
go from them. He is reported to be wise, liberall, valeante,
and of greate courage, which in the last warres he well showed
in defending all his contreis free from the Turk, with his
owne force onlye, and gevinge them diverse overthrowes when
they attempted any thinge against his rules ; and he is uni-
versally (which I most weye) noted to be of suche vertue as
he was never spotted or touched with any notable vice or
cryme, which is moche of a Prynce of his yeares, indued with
such qualities. He deliteth moche in huntinge, ridinge,
hawkinge, exercise of feats of armes, and hearinge of musicke,
wherof he hathe very good. He hath, as I heare, some
understandinge in astronomy and cosmography, and taketh
pleasure in clocks that sett forthe the cowrse of the planetts.
He hath for his porcyon," &c. &c.

We have here the pen of an historian in the hand of a
statesman : a pure, simple, and exalted, method of composi-
tion which arose out of the nature of the writer, and which
differed as widely from the artificial and turgid quaintness
which was the fashion of his time as did the character of his
own mind and heart from those of his compeers. I trust I
shall be excused for adding one more short extract, as it is so
highly illustrative of the qualities of both, from a letter,

154 THOMAS RADCLYFFE,

written in a moment of anger, to Sir William Cecil, on the
twenty-third of January, 1569. After stating the ground of
his complaint, which related to some judicial matters in his
office of President of the North, he proceeds — " I was first a
Lieutenante : I was after little better then a Marshall : (1
had then nothing left to me but to direct hanging matters ;
in the meane tyme all was disposed that was within my
comission) and no we I am offered to be made a shrief's
bayly, to deliver over possessions. Blame me not, good Mr.
Secretarie, though my pen utter sumwhat of that swell in
my stomake, for I see I am but kepte for a brome, and when
I have done my office to be throwen owt of the dore. I am
the first nobelman hathe ben thus used. Trewe service
deserveth honor and credite, and not reproche and open
defaming : but, seeing the one is ever delyvered to me in
stede of the other, I must leave to serve, or lose my honor ;
which, being continewed so long in my howse, I wolde be
lothe shoolde take blemishe with me. These matters I
knowe precede not from lacke of good and honorabell mean-
ing in the Q. Majestie towards me, nor from lacke of dewte
and trewthe in me towards her, which grevethe me the more ;
and therfore, seing I shalbe still a camelyon, and yelde no
other shewe then as it shall please others to give the couller,
I will content myself to live a private lyfe. God send her
Majeste others that mean as well as I have done."

Such was his variety of talent, and of cultivation, at a
period when the closest application of the dry and obscure
subtleties of logic to theological or political controversy was
considered as the highest proof of mental accomplishment.
For his integrity, his loyalty, and his exalted sense of honour,
it might be sufficient to say that he was the only one of
Elizabeth's servants, rarely distinguished as most of them
were, on whom the slightest suspicion never fell. His con-
duct in his government of Ireland was equally sagacious,
resolute and humane. " By his prudence," says Fuller, "he
caused that actual rebellion brake not out there; and no

EARL OF SUSSEX. 155

wonder if in his time it rained not war there, seeing his
diligence dispersed the clouds before they could gather
together." Even his foreign negotiations seem to have been
conducted in that spirit of candour which never left him, for
in his many diplomatic despatches which I have perused, I
never discovered an instance of active deception ; yet his
conduct in that character was never taxed with weakness or
imprudence. His bitter enmity to the favourite, Leicester,
in common with the rest of his sentiments, was open and
professed. It was a war of wisdom against cunning ; of
truth against hypocrisy ; of virtue against guilt. " A constant
court faction," says Fuller again, " was maintained between
him and Robert Earl of Leicester, so that the Sussexians
and Leicesterians divided the court, whilst the Cecilians, as
neuters, did look upon them. Sussex was the honester man,
and greater soldier ; Leicester the more facete courtier, and
deep politician, not for the general good, but his particular
profit. Great was the animosity betwixt them, and what in
vain the Queen endeavoured death performed, taking this
Earl" (Sussex) " away, and so the competition was at an
end." Camden, too, who seems to suppose that this discord
originated in their vehement opposition of opinion on the
treaty of marriage with the Archduke, informs us that "they
divided the court into parties and factions ; and the Earls,
whenever they went abroad, carried great retinues of servants,
with swords and bucklers, with iron pikes pointing out at
the bosses, according to the then mode, as if they resolved to
have a trial of skill for it." Yet Sussex's indignation could
not abate his sense of justice. When Elizabeth, in a par-
oxysm of jealousy on the sudden discovery of Leicester's
marriage to the Countess of Essex, would have committed
him to the Tower, Sussex, " out of a solid judgment, a.nd the
innate generosity of his own mind," as Camden well says,
dissuaded her from it, " being of opinion that no man was to
be troubled for lawful marriage, which amongst all men had
ever been held in honour and esteem."

156 THOMAS RADCLYFFE, EARL OF SUSSEX.

He was one of the very few of Elizabeth's servants who
experienced any substantial proofs of her gratitude. She
granted to him in 1573 several valuable manors and estates
in Essex, particularly the noble palace and park of Newhall
in the parish of Boreham, which Henry the Eighth, whose
favourite residence it was, had enlarged to a vast extent, and
to which he had given the name Beaulieu. There Sussex
lived in the utmost profusion even of feudal magnificence
and hospitality. The singular splendour of the place suited
the grandeur of his spirit, and he was anxious to attach it
firmly to his family ; yet it was sold by his nephew even as
early as the year 1620 to Villiers Duke of Buckingham. He
resided occasionally too at his mansion of Woodham Walter,
and Attleburgh, in Norfolk, and at his manor of Bermondsey,
where he died on the ninth of June, 1583. He was buried
at Boreham, and we find in his will a curious proof of the
great expense which was then usually bestowed on the
funerals of the great. He says, " I desire that my body
shall be by myne executors, decently and comely, without
unnecessary pomp or charges, but only having respect to my
dignity and state, buried in the parish church of Boreham, in
Essex, where I will that my funerals shall be performed and
kept, provided always, and my will is, that myne executors
shall not dispend in and about my funerall obsequies more
than fifteen hundredth pounds ; " a sum at least equal to ten
thousand pounds in our time, but then prescribed as for a
private funeral, and in the certainty that his executors would
have far exceeded it, had he not thus limited them.

This great Earl was twice married, first to Elizabeth,
daughter of Thomas Wriothesly, Earl of Southampton, by
whom he had two sons, Henry, and Robert, both of whom
died young. By his second, Frances, daughter of Sir
William, sister of Sir Henry, and aunt of Sir Philip Sidney,
the foundress by her will of Sidney College in Cambridge,
he had no issue. His next brother, Henry, therefore suc-
ceeded to his honours and estates.

EDWARD CLINTON,

EARL OP LINCOLN.

THE family of this nobleman had enjoyed the dignity of
the Peerage nearly for three hundred years, yet, with the
exception of its common ancestor, Geoffery de Clinton,
whom we find styled Lord Chamberlain, Treasurer to the
King, and Justice of England, under Henry the First, none
of his progenitors appear to have held any public situations,
beyond such municipal offices as are usually filled by owners
of large estates in their respective provinces. He was the
only son of Thomas, eighth Lord Clinton, by Mary, a natural
daughter of Sir Edward Poynings, Knight of the Garter ; and
it is probable that no small share of the favour in which that
gentleman was held by Henry the Eighth, devolved on this
young nobleman through that marriage.

He was born in the year 1512, and at the death of his
father, which occurred on the seventh of August, 1517, fell
in wardship to the Crown. Educated in the Court, his
youth was passed in those magnificent and romantic amuse-
ments which distinguished the commencement of Henry's
reign ; nor was it till 1544, that he appeared in any public
character. In that year he attended the Earl of Hertford,
and Dudley, Lord Lisle, afterwards Duke of Northum-
berland, in their expedition to Scotland, and is said then
to have engaged in the naval service in consequence of his
intimacy with the latter, who commanded the English fleet.
He was knighted at Leith by Hertford, who commanded in
chief, and then embarked with the admiral, Lisle, who having

158 EDWARD CLINTON,

scoured the coast of Scotland, landed at Boulogne, which
was at that time besieged by the King in person.

At the commencement of the following reign he was ap-
pointed admiral of the fleet which aided the Protector's great
irruption into Scotland ; and, owing to a singular circum-
stance, is said to have had a considerable share in the victory
of Musselborough, without quitting his ships ; for the van of
the English army having changed its position, the Scots
imagined that it was flying to the fleet, and so forsook the
high ground on which they had been advantageously posted,
and, following the English to the shore, were received with
a furious discharge of cannon, which threw them into irre-
coverable disorder. Soon after this period Lord Clinton was
constituted Governor of Boulogne, and, on his return from
thence, after the peace of 1550, was appointed of the King's
Privy Chamber ; Lord Admiral of England for life ; and a
Knight of the Garter. To these distinctions were added grants
of estates to a very considerable amount. In 1551 he repre-
sented his royal master at Paris, as godfather to the third son
of France, afterwards Henry the Third. He negotiated at the
same time the fruitless treaty of marriage intended between
Edward the Sixth, and Elizabeth, daughter of Henry the Se-
cond of France, and brought home with him the instrument
of its ratification.

Edward died soon after the conclusion of this embassy, and
Lord Clinton, having recommended himself to the favour of
that Prince's successor by his early expression of attachment
to her title to the Crown, was sent in 1554, together with
others of the loyal nobility, at the head of a military force,
against Sir Thomas Wyat. In the autumn of the next year
he carried the Order of the Garter to Emanuel, Duke of
Savoy ; and in 1557 had a principal command in the English
army at the siege of St. Quintin. On the thirteenth of Feb-
ruary, 1558, 0. S., his patent of Lord Admiral was renewed,
and on the twelfth of April following, he was appointed Com-
mander-in-chief, both by sea and land, of the forces then sent

EARL OF LINCOLN. 159

against France and Scotland. Elizabeth continued him in the
post of Admiral ; chose him of her Privy council ; appointed
him a Commissioner to examine Murray's charges against the
Queen of Scots : and joined him to Dudley, Earl of Warwick,
in the command of the army sent in 1569 against the re-
bellious Earls of Northumberland and Westmoreland. He
was one of the twenty-five Peers, who, in January, 1572, N.S.,
sat in judgment on Thomas, Duke of Norfolk. On the
fourth of the succeeding May, he was advanced to the dignity
of Earl of Lincoln, and was immediately after despatched to
Paris, with a splendid train of nobility and gentry, to attend
the ratification of the treaty of Blois by Charles the Ninth.

The remainder of his life presents nothing worthy of note,
for we find only that he was occasionally employed in the
mere formalities of that tedious treaty of marriage with
Francis, Duke of Anjou, Elizabeth's motives for the com-
mencement and dissolution of which, were ever equally un-
known, even to those of her ministers whom she most trusted.
It should seem, indeed, that there was little historically
eminent in this nobleman's character : that he was valued
by the monarchs whom he served rather for his probity and
his fidelity than for his talents, which being probably of a
sort and measure best adapted to the conduct of warlike
affairs, afforded little worth remembrance during the long
season of public tranquillity which detached him from such
services. Some imperfect judgment of the powers of his
mind may be formed from the two following letters to Lord
Burghley, written at different periods of his life, and now
first published, from the Harleian collection : nor indeed are
they otherwise destitute of interest, particularly the second,
written even while the detestable Prince, of whose oath of
perpetual amity with Elizabeth it chiefly treats, was secretly
planning the horrors of the massacre of St. Bartholomew,
which were perpetrated within very few weeks after the date
of his solemn perjury, and of Lincoln's despactch.

160 EDWARD CLINTON,

" Aftar my most harty come~dacyons unto your good
Lordship, albeit you shall by the lettars from my LL. of the
Cownsell understand the good newis y' ar com toching the
peace betwen the Quene's Mate and the French toching the
mattars of Skotland, yet I take occasyon to trowble your L.
wth this my lettar y' it may apeare I am not slothfull in
wryting to yow. This peace is gretely to the Quene's
honour, and this reame. My Lord of Norfolk is gon to Lyth,
to see the demolyshing of the same. The newis doth styll
contynew of the comyng of the yong King of Swevya, who
bringeth xxx shyps of war, and Ix others to carre his trayne
and vy tells. Yesterday the Kyng of Spayne's Ambassadors
were here, who reseyved knolayg of her Hynes of the peace
concludyd in Skotland. The tewmolts in France do con-
tynew. Monsur de Glassy on told me yesterday y1 the Duke
of Savoy was in gret danger, besyde his owne towne off
Nyece, to a byn taken by the Torks, bot skaped naroly, his
horse being sore hort under hym. xii of his prynsepall noble
men and gentylmen are by the Torks takyn and carreid
away. The Kyng of Spayne's los at Geriby is confermyd by
other lettars. I have lernyd for sarten y' the French pre-
parasyons are small to the see. It is brewtyd here y1 the
Dewk de Namors doth com wth a gret company of Noble
men to vyzet the Quene's Mate from the French Kyng.
Many lettars ar going owt from the Quene to the nobylyty
of this reame to com to the Corte agen the coming of this
yong Kyng of Swevya. I trust we shall be in quyat wth France
untyll they have ther owne cowntrey in a good ordar and
subjectyon, but, when tyme shall sarve them, ther wylbe no
gret trost to them, as I juge this peace hath ben parfors, for
they were dryven to take it in thys sort, or els have lost
all ther pypyll in Lyth, being not able to socor them. My
Lord of Penbrok doth somwat amend of his syknes, God be
thankyd, and is gon yesterday from the Corte to London,
and so to Hynden. When othar mattars shall com worthe

I

EARL OF LINCOLN. 101

wrytyng I wyll advertes your L. From the Corte, tne xiiith
of July, 1560.

Your L'. assured to com~and,

E. CLYNTON."

"Mv LORD,

" I have advartized your L. from tyme to tyme of my
enterteynment synce my comynge from Bullyn, whiche, albeit
ther was no ordar taken for provisions of the Kyng's chargis
for me on the waye hyther, yet I assure you I was vearie
honorablie used and enterteyned, as I have afore wrytten ;
and as 1 p~ceive, they here weare utterlie withowt know-
ledge that there was suche ordar taken by the Queue's
Matie for the recey vinge of Monsieur Momerancie in England,
whereof there hathe ben great mislykinge taken against suche
as showld have gyven knowledge hyther. But synce my
comyng to Parris ther hathe ben as greate enterteynement
and honor done me, in respecte of her Majestic, as I ever
have seene, and all at the Kyng's chargis.

" On Fridaye last I was sent for to come to Madryll to the
Kyng. The Prince Dolphyn, w"1 many noble men, wher'of
the Marshall Cossie, being one, dyd accompany me to the
Court, wheare at my comyng the Kyng dyd welcom me vearie
honorablie, his brethren, and a great assemblie of noble men
being wyth hym. That daie the Kyng cawsed me, and the
Quene's Ma1'" Imbassadors, to dyne w"1 him and his brethren.
We weare aftar dynar browght to the Quene, his wyfe, by
the Duke Dalanson, at whiche tyme the Quene mother was
gicke, and so deferred our comynge to her for that daye. We
weare lodged in the Kynge's howse theare, and hadd greate
enterteynement, wheare we remained Frydaie and Satterdaie,
in which tyme the Kynge used suche familier enterteyne-
mente as he tooke me wythe hym after his supper to walke
in his parke, and he played at the Tennys, in the fyldes at
Randon, with the noble men, and caried me late to his
pryvie chamber, and did talke with me vearie pryvatlye.

162 EDWARD CLINTOX,

He had som pastyme showed hym by Italian players, whiche
I was at w'h hym. On Satterdaie he towlde me his mother
was not vearie well, but som thinge amended, and yet he
wolde have me see her, and so hymself browght me to her,
and her Majestie's Imbassadors, she being in her bedd,
wheare I dyd her Ma1'" comendacions, and delyvered her
Ma*'" letters. The next daye, beinge Sondaie, appoynted for
the oathe to be taken at a parishe churche in Parris, the
Kynge, wythe his twoo brethren, entred in a coache, and
tooke me in the said coache wth theym, and so passed
throwghe a great part of Parris to the Lovar, wher he dyned,
and greate and sumptuous preparacion for hym, and a greate
assemblie of noble men and gentlemen ; and theare I, wythe
her Ma'"' Imbassadoures, dyned wythe the Kynge and his
brethren.

Aftar dynar, at Evensonge tyme, the Kynge went to the
aforesaid churche, and I have not scene a greater assemblie
of people of all sortes, so that it was longe er the Kynge
cowlde passe the prease, for all that his offycers cowlde com-
maunde to make place. At his comynge to the said churche,
w°h was rytchlie furnished, and hanged wythe arras, and a
place in the quyer dressed for the Kynge and the noble men,
aftar we hadd browght him to the quyer, and that he was
sett, we retyred o'selves to a chappell on the syde of the said
churche appoynted for us, where we remayned, accompanied
wythe the Duke of Bolleyn, and Monsieur de Lansack, and
others, untyll the Kynge had hard his evensong, and then we
weare sent for by the Prynce Dolphyn to the Kynge, and
theare, at the highe aulter, he tooke his oathe ; and afore he
dyd sweare he towld me openlie that ther was nothing that
ever contented hym better than this league betwene the
Quene, his good systar, and hym, being so noble and worthie
a Pryncys as she ys ; and, as he dyd publykelye take the
oathe, accordyng to the ordar in suche cases, so dyd he
p~nounce that he dyd yt from his harte, as the thynge that
he wolde trewlye and justly e obsarve and keepe durynge his

EARL OF LINCOLN. 163

lyfe, wythe suche a showe of a contentacyon as I have not
scene the lyke. I noted his speache to me before dyner,
spoken afore his brethren, and the greatest part of the Prynces
and noble men theare, wch was that the ordar and custome
hathe ben alwaies in Fraunce that when anie Kynge or Quene
dyed, or other greate estate of their Howse, as nowe the
Quene of Navare, they dyd mourne in theyr apparell, and
dyd weare y' for one monthe at the leaste ; but he, haveing
recyved such cawse to rejoyce at this amitie, whearto he
wold swear that daye, and for the greate honor he dyd beare
to the Quene's Matie, his good systar, he wolde weare his
apparell accordynge to the contentmente of his mynde, and
therfore he dyd put off all mourning, and indede he and his
brethren weare rytchelie apparelled.

The Kynge apon Sondaie last towlde me that bothe his
brethren, for the greate honor they beare to her MatU> dyd
desier to have me, and bothe her Ma1'1 Imbassadoures, and the
noble men and gentlemen in my companye, to dyne w01 them
uppon Tewsdaie and Wensdaie next followynge : so that
uppon Tewsdaie we dyned wyth Monsieur, who sent for us
twoo of the brethren of Monsieur de Momeransie, and Lansack,
and Larchaunt, and dyvars others. And at owre comynge,
the Duke and his brother dyd mete us wythout his greate
chamber, accompenied wythe the Duke Monpansier, and his
son Prynce Dolphyn, and the Duks de Nevers and Bullyen,
and Domall, and Guyse, and the Marshall de Cossie, and
Danvyle, who all dyned wth hym. At after dynar Mons' and
his brother browght us to a chambre wheare was vearie many
sorts of exelent musicke ; and after that he hadd us to
another large chambre, wheare there was an Italian playe,
and dyvars vautars and leapers of dyvars sortes, vearie
exelent ; and thus that daie was spent. I doo heare that
the Duke Dalanson doothe this daie make greate preparacion
to feast us, wherof I wyll advartize you by my next lettars.
And thus I take my leave of yor good L. wyshinge yor L. long
lief, in much honor.

US

1G4 EDWARD CLINTON, EARL OF LINCOLN.

From the Lovarin Parris, this Wensdaie, in the morrnyng,
beyng the xviiith of June, 1572.

Yor L.' assured friend to conTaund,

E. LYNCOLN."

" Her hathe ben hetherto no worde spokyn to me, ether by
the Kynge or his mother, toochynge the Quene of Skotts, or
the Duke Dalanson. Seurly, my Lord, here is shoid gret
contentasyon of this amyte."

The Earl of Lincoln died on the nineteenth of January, 1584,
O.S., and lies buried in St. George's Chapel, in Windser
Castle, under a superb monument of alabaster and porphyry,
which was some years since repaired, with laudable care and
nicety, by the direction of his noble descendant, the late
Duke of Newcastle. He was thrice married : first, to Eliza-
beth, daughter of Sir John Blount, and widow to Gilbert,
Lord Talboys. By this lady, who had formerly admitted the
caresses of Henry the Eighth, he had three daughters ;
Bridget, married to Robert Dymock, of Scrivelsby, in Lin-
colnshire ; Catherine, to William, Lord Borough ; and Mar-
garet, to Charles, Lord Willoughby of Parham. By his
second wife, Ursula, daughter of Edward, Lord Stourton, he
had three sons ; Henry his successor ; Edward, and Thomas ;
and two daughters ; Anne, wife of William Ayscough, of
Kelsey, in Lincolnshire ; and Frances, of Giles Bruges, Lord
Chandos. He married, thirdly, Elizabeth, daughter of Gerald
Fitzgerald, Earl of Kildare, who died without issue.

I

PHD LDP SOD?-.

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.

BIOGRAPHY, like painting, derives a main interest from the
contrast of strong lights and shadows. The glowing serenity
of Italian skies, and the constant verdure of our own plains,
delight us in nature, but on the canvass we look for tempes-
tuous clouds, and rocky precipices, to break the uniformity
of milder beauties ; and, however necessary it may be that
the judgment should be assured of the truth of the represen-
tation, yet, at all events, the fancy must be gratified. So it
is with the reality and the picture of human life. The virtues
which adorned the living man are faint ornaments on his
posthumous story, without the usual opposition of instances
of infirmity and extravagance. Whether it be an envy of
perfection, a hasty prejudice which may have induced us to
suppose that it cannot exist in the human character, or a just
experience of its extreme rarity, that renders the portrait
displeasing, unnatural, or at best insipid ; or whether, under
the influence of the secret principle of selfishness, virtue, in
losing its power of conferring benefits, may not seem to have
lost most of its beauty, are questions not to be solved ; the
fact, however, is incontrovertible.

Under the pressure of these reflections, and of others
nearly as discouraging, I sit down to write some account of
the life of SIR PHILIP SIDNEY, whose character displays
almost unvaried excellence ; whose splendour of talents,
and purity of mind, were, if possible, exceeded by the sim-
plicity and the kindness of his heart; whose short, but

166 SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.

matchless career was closed by a death in which the highest
military glory was even more than rivalled, not by those
degrees of consolation usually derived from religion and
patience, but by the piety of a saint, and the constancy of a
stoic : a life too which has so frequently been the theme of
the biographer ; of which all public facts are probably already
recorded, and on which all terms of panegyric seem to have
been exhausted.

Sir Philip Sidney was born on the twenty-ninth of Novem-
ber, 1554. His family was of high antiquity, Sir William
Sidney, his lineal ancestor, a native of Anjou, having accom-
panied Henry the Second from thence, and afterwards waited
on that Prince as one of his Chamberlains. From this courtly
origin the Sidneys retired suddenly into privacy, and settled
themselves in Surrey and Sussex, where they remained for
nearly four hundred years in the character of country gentle-
men, till Nicholas Sidney, who was twelfth in descent from
Sir William, married Anne, daughter of Sir William Brandon,
and aunt and co-heir to Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, a
match which gave him a sort of family connexion to Henry
the Eighth, and probably drew him to the court. William, his
only son, became successively an esquire of the body, a cham-
berlain, steward, and gentleman, of the privy chamber, to that
Prince, whom he afterwards repeatedly served with distin-
guished credit both in his fleets and armies, and from whom he
received the honour of knighthood. To this Sir William, who
is thus especially spoken of, because he may be esteemed the
principal founder of the subsequent splendour of his family,
Henry granted, in 1547, several manors and lands which had
lately fallen to the crown by the attainder of Sir Ralph Vane,
particularly the honour and park of Penshurst in Kent. He
too left an only son, Sir Henry Sidney, the dear friend of
King Edward the Sixth, who died in his arms, one of Eliza-
beth's well-chosen knights of the garter, the celebrated gov-
ernor of Ireland, and President of Wales ; a wise statesman,
a true patriot, and a most honourable and beneficent gentle-

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. 1C?

man. Of his three sons, by Mary, eldest daughter of the
great and miserable John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland,
the first was our Sir Philip Sidney.

With such zeal has every scattered fragment relative to
this admirable person been preserved, that the circumstances
of his very infancy would form a collection more extensive
than the whole history of many a long and eminent life. " Of
his youth," says Sir Fulke Greville, one of his school-fellows,
and his first biographer, " I will report no other than this ;
that though I lived with him, and knew him from a child,
yet I never knew him other than a man ; with such a steadi-
ness of mind, lovely and familiar gravity, as carried grace and
reverence above greater years ; his talk ever of knowledge,
and his very play tending to enrich his mind, so as even his
teachers found something in him to observe and learn, above
that which they had usually read or taught." In order that
he might be near his family, which resided at Ludlow Castle
during Sir Henry's Presidency of Wales, he was placed at a
school in the town of Shrewsbury, and seems to have been at
no other ; yet we find him, at the age of twelve years, writ-
ing to his father, not only in Latin, but in French, and
doubtless with correctness at least, since no censure is uttered
on his epistles by his father, from whom we have the fact.
It is communicated in a letter to him from Sir Henry, so
excellent in every point of consideration, and more particu-
larly as it should seem to have been the very mould in which
the son's future character was cast, that I cannot help regret-
ting that its great length, not to mention that it has lately
been published by Dr. Zouch, should render it unfit to form
a part of the present sketch.

He was removed to Christchurch in the University of
Oxford in 1569, and placed under the care of Dr. Thomas
Thornton, (who became through his means a Canon of that
house), assisted by Robert Dorsett, afterwards Dean of Chester.
Dr. Thornton was the gratuitous preceptor of Camden, and
introduced him to Sidney, who became afterwards one of his

168 SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.

most earnest patrons : and that faithful historian, who so well
and so early knew him, has told us that " he was born into
the world to show unto his age a sample of ancient virtues."
Sidney studied also for some time at Cambridge, and there
confirmed that fast friendship with Greville which had com-
menced at their school, and which the latter, with a warmth
which the lapse of more than forty surviving years had not
impaired, -so emphatically commemorates on his own tomb,
in the collegiate church of Warwick, by this inscription —
" Fulke Greville, servant to Queen Elizabeth, counsellor to
King James, and friend to Sir Philip Sidney."

He concluded his academical studies at seventeen years of
age, and on the twenty-sixth of May, 1572, departed for
France with Edward Clinton, Earl of Lincoln, and Admiral,
then appointed by Elizabeth her ambassador extraordinary.
His uncle Leicester, who probably cared little for talents in
which cunning had no place, gave him on that occasion a
letter to Sir Francis Walsingham, then resident minister at
Paris, in which he says " he is young and rawe, and no doubt
shall find those countries, and the demeanours of the people,
somewhat straunge to him, in w*hich respect your good advice
and counsell shall greatlie behove him," &c. He was received
with great distinction. Charles the Ninth appointed him a
gentleman of his bedchamber, and he became familiarly
known to Henry, King of Navarre, and is said to have been
highly esteemed by that great and amiable Prince. Charles's
favour to him, it is true, had been considered but as a feature
of the plan of that evil hour to lull the Protestants into a
false security during the preparations for the diabolical mas-
sacre of St. Bartholomew, which burst forth on the twenty-
second of August, within a fortnight after he had been
admitted into his office. Sidney, on that dreadful occasion,
sheltered himself in the house of Walsingham, and quitted
Paris as soon as the storm had subsided.

After a circuitous journey through Lorrain, by Strasburgh,
and Heidelburgh, he rested for a time at Frankfort, where he

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. 109

became acquainted with the celebrated Hubert Languet, then
resident minister there for the Elector of Saxony ; a man who
to the profoundest erudition joined the most intimate know-
ledge of the history, the laws, the political systems, and the
manners of modern Europe ; and whose eminent qualifications
received their last polish from an upright heart, and a benign
temper. At an age when men usually retire to the society
of the friends of their youth, and the flatterers of their
opinions, this sage selected the youthful Sidney, not only as
his pupil, but as the companion of his leisure, and the depo-
sitory of his confidence. " That day on which I first beheld
him with my eyes," says Languet, " shone propitious to me."
They passed together most part of the three years which
Sidney devoted to his travels, and, when absent from each
other, corresponded incessantly by letters. Languet's epistles
have been more than once published, and amply prove the
truth of these remarks ; nor are Sidney's testimonials of
gratitude and affection to him unrecorded.

Having halted long at Vienna, he travelled through Hun-
gary, and passed into Italy, where he resided chiefly at
Venice and Padua, and, without visiting Rome, which, it is
said, no doubt truly, that he afterwards much regretted, he
returned to England about May, 1575, and immediately after,
then little more than twenty-one years of age, was appointed
ambassador to the Emperor Rodolph. The professed object
of the mission was mere condolence on the death of that
Prince's father ; but Sidney had secret instructions to nego-
tiate a union of the Protestant states against the Pope and
Philip of Spain ; and the subsequent success of the measure
has been ascribed to his arguments and address. While
transacting these affairs he became acquainted with William,
the first Prince of Orange, and with Don John of Austria ;
and those heroes, perhaps in every other instance uniformly
opposed to each other, united, not only in their tribute of
applause, but in an actual friendship with him. William, in
particular, held a constant correspondence with him on

170 SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.

the public affairs of Europe, and designated him as " one
of the ripest and greatest counsellors of state of that day in
Europe."

Sidney returned from his embassy in 1577, and passed the
eight succeeding years undistinguished by any public appoint-
ment. His spirit was too high for the court, and his inte-
grity too stubborn for the cabinet. Elizabeth, who always
expected implicit submission, could not long have endured
such a servant ; yet he occasionally advised her with the
utmost freedom, and she received his counsel with gentleness.
Of this we have a remarkable instance in his letter to her,
written at great length, in 1579, against the proposed match
with the Duke of Ale^on, after of Anjou, which may be
found in the Cabala, and in Collins's Sidney Papers, and
which Hume has pronounced to be written " with an unusual
elegance of expression, as well as force of reasoning." Sir
Fulke Greville calls him " an exact image of quiet and action,
happily united in him, and seldom well divided in others ;"
activity, however, was the ruling feature in the mechanism
of his nature, while the keenest sensibility reigned in his
heart. Perhaps, too, if we may venture to suppose that
Sidney had a fault, those mixed dispositions produced in him
their usual effect, an impatience and petulance of temper
which the general grandeur of his mind was calculated rather
to aggravate than to soften. Hence in this his time of leisure,
he fell into some excesses, which in an ordinary person, so
much is human judgment swayed by the character of its
subject, might perhaps "rather have challenged credit than
censure. Such were his quarrels with the Earls of Ormond
and Oxford, the one too worthy, the other too contemptible,
to be the object of such a man's resentment. Ormond had
been suspected by Sidney of having endeavoured to pre-
judice the Queen against his father, and had therefore been
purposely affronted by him ; but the Earl nobly said (as
appears by a letter in Collins's Papers to Sir Henry Sidney),
' that he would accept no quarrel from a gentleman who was

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. 171

hound by nature to defend his father's cause, and who was
otherwise furnished with so many virtues as he knew
Mr. Philip to be." We are not told, however, that Sidney
was satisfied. Oxford was a brute and a madman ; insulted
him at a tennis-court, without a cause, and with the utmost
vulgarity of manners and language : yet, so angry was Sidney,
that the privy council, finding their endeavours to prevent a
duel would be ineffectual, were obliged to solicit Elizabeth to
interpose her authority. Her argument on this occasion, for
with him she condescended to argue, is too curious to be
omitted. " She laid before him," says Sir Fulke Greville,
" the difference in degree between earls and gentlemen ; the
respect inferiors owed to their superiors ; and the necessity in
princes to maintain their own creations, as degrees descending
between the people's licentiousness and the anointed sove-
reignty of crowns ; and how the gentleman's neglect of the
nobility taught the peasant to insult both." Sidney com-
bated this royal reasoning with freedom and firmness, but
submitted. He retired, however, for many months, much
disgusted, into the countiy ; and, in that season of quiet,
thus forced upon him, is supposed to have composed his
Arcadia. These things happened in 1580 ; but the strongest
and most biameable instance of his intemperance is to be
found in a letter from him, on the 31st of May, 1578, to
Mr. Edward Molineux, a gentleman of ancient family, and
secretary to his father, whom he had hastily, and it seems
unjustly, suspected of a breach of confidence. Let it speak
for itself, and, saving us the pain of remarking further on it,
allow us to take leave of the sole imperfection of Sidney's
character.

" MR. MOLINEUX,

" Few woordes are best. My lettres to my father have
come to the eys of some ; neither can I condemne any but
you for it. If it be so, yow have plaide the very knave with
me, and so I will make yow know, if I have good proofe of

172 SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.

it : but that for so muche as is past ; for that is to come, I
assure yow before God, that if ever I knowe you do so muche
as reede any lettre I wryte to my father, without his com-
mandement, or my consente, I will thruste my dagger into
yow ; and truste to it, for I speake it in earnest. In the
mean tyme farewell.

" By me,

" PHILIPPE SIDNEY."

About this time he represented the county of Kent in Par-
liament, where he frequently was actively engaged in the
public business. He sat in 1581 on a most select committee
for the devising new laws against the Pope and his adhe-
rents. In the same year the proposals for the French mar-
riage were earnestly renewed ; the Duke of Anjou visited
Elizabeth ; and, after three months' ineffectual suit, was
through her wisdom or folly, finally, but pompously dismissed.
Sidney was appointed one of the splendid train which attended
him to Antwerp, and we find him, soon after his return,
soliciting for employment. " The Queen," says he, in a
letter to Lord Burghley, of the twenty-seventh of January,
1582, " at my L. of Warwick's request, hathe bene moved
to join me in his office of ordinance ; and, as I learn, her
Majestie yields gratious heering unto it. My suit is your L.
will favour and furdre it, which I truly affirme unto your L. I
much more desyre for the being busied in a thing of som
serviceable experience than for any other comoditie, which is
but small that can arise from it." His request was unsuc-
cessful, and it was perhaps owing to this disappointment that
he devoted the whole of the next year to literary leisure,
one result of which is said to have been his " Defence of
Poesy." In 1583 he married Frances, the only surviving
daughter of Sir Francis Walsingham, by whom, two years
afterwards, he had an only child, Elizabeth, who became the
wife of Roger Manners, Earl of Rutland ; and on the thir-
teenth of January in that year was knighted at Windsor,

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. 173

as a qualification for his serving as proxy for John, Prince
Palatine of the Rhine, at an installation of the order of
the Garter.

It is strange that almost immediately after his disin-
terested marriage to a young woman of exquisite beauty and
accomplishments, he should have laid a plan to accompany
Drake, in his second voyage, all the great objects of which it
was agreed should be committed to his management. The
whole had been devised and matured with the utmost
secrecy, and it should seem that he was actually on board
when a peremptory mandate arrived from the Queen to stay
him. A speculation, the extravagance of which was perhaps
equal to its honour, awaited his return. He was invited to
enrol himself among the candidates for the crown of Poland,
vacant in 1585 by the death of Stephen Bathori : and this
historical fact affords a stronger general proof of the fame of
his transcendant character than all the united testimonies
even of his contemporaries. That a young man, sprung from
a family not yet ennobled ; unemployed, save in a solitary
embassy, by his own sovereign ; passing perhaps the most
part of his time in literary seclusion ; should have been
solicited even to be certainly unsuccessful in so glorious a
race, would be utterly incredible, were it not absolutely
proved. Here Elizabeth's prohibition again interfered : " She
refused," says Naunton, " to further his advancement, not
only out of emulation, but out of fear to lose the jewel of
her times." She became, however, now convinced that this
mighty spirit must have a larger scope for action. Sidney
was sworn of the Privy Council, and, on the seventh of
November in the same year appointed Governor of Flushing,
one of the most important of the towns then pledged to
Elizabeth for the payment and support of her auxiliary troops,
and General of the Horse, under his uncle Leicester, who
was Commander-in-Chief of the English forces in the Low
Countries. On the eighteenth of that month he arrived at
Flushing, and, as it were by an act of mere volition, instantly

174 SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.

assumed, together with his command, all the qualifications
which it required. His original letters, preserved in our
great national repository, abundantly prove that he was the
ablest general in the field, and the wisest military counsellor
in that service : of his bravery it is unnecessary to speak. I
insert one of them addressed to Sir Francis Walsingham,
and hitherto unpublished ; not with the particular view of
making that proof, but to give perhaps the strongest possible
instance of the wonderful variety, as well as of the power of
his rich mind : to exhibit the same Sidney whose pen had so
lately been dedicated to the soft and sweet relaxation of
poesy and pastoral romance, now writing from his tent,
amid the din of war, with the stern simplicity, and short-
breathed impatience, of an old soldier. The letter, indeed,
is in many other respects of singular curiosity. The view
which it imperfectly gives us of his earnest zeal for the
Protestant cause, of Elizabeth's feelings towards him, and of
the wretched provision made at home for the campaign, are
all highly interesting.

" RIGHT HONORABLE,

" I receave dyvers letters from you, full of the dis-
comfort which I see, and am sorry to see, y' yow daily meet
with at home ; and I think, such is ye goodwil it pleaseth you
to bear me, y* my part of y* trouble is something y' troubles
yow ; but I beseech yow let it not. I had before cast my count
of danger, want, and disgrace : and, before God, Sir, it is trew
in my hart, the love of ye caws doth so far over ballance them
all, y', with God's grace, thei shall never make me weery of
my resolution. If her Mali wear the fountain, I wold fear,
considering what I daily fynd, y* we should wax dry ; but
she is but a means whom God useth, and I know not whether
I am deceaved, but I am faithfully persuaded, y' if she shold
wthdraw herself, other springes wold ryse to help this action :
for methinkes I see y' great work indeed in hand against the
abusers of the world, wherein it is no greater fault to have

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. 175

confidence in man's power, then it is too hastily to despair of
God's work. I think a wyse and constant man ought never
to greeve whyle he doth plaie, as a man may sai, his own part
truly, though others be out ; but if himself leav his hold
becaws other marriners will be ydle, he will hardly forgive
himself his own fault. For me, I can not promis of my own
cource, no, not of the . . . becaws 1 know there is a
eyer power yl must uphold me, or else I shall fall ; but cer-
tainly I trust I shall not by other men's wantes be drawne
from myself ; therefore, good Sir, to whome for my particular
I am more bownd then to all men besydes, be not troubled
with my troubles, for I have seen the worst, in my judge-
ment, beforehand, and wors then y1 can not bee.

" If the Queene pai not her souldiours she must loos her
garrisons ; ther is no dout thereof ; but no man living shall be
hable to sai the fault is in me. What releefe I can do them
I will. I will spare no danger, if occasion serves. I am sure
no creature shall be hable to lay injustice to my charge ; and,
for furdre doutes, truly I stand not uppon them. I have
written by Adams to the council plainli, and thereof lett them
determin. It hath been a costly beginning unto me this war,
by reason I had nothing proportioned unto it ; my servantes
unexperienced, and myself every way unfurnished ; but here-
after, if the war continew, I shall pas much better thorow
with it. For Bergem up Zome, I delighted in it, I confess,
becaws it was neer the enemy ; but especially, having a very
fair hows in it, and an excellent air, I destenied it for my
wyfe ; but, fynding how yow deal there, and yl ill paiment
in my absence thens might bring foorth som mischeef, and
considering how apt the Queen is to interpret every thing to
my disadvantage, I have resigned it to my Lord Willowghby,
my very frend, and indeed a vaillant and frank gentleman,
and fit for yl place ; therefore I pray yow know that so much
of my regality is fain.

" I understand I am called very ambitious and prowd at
home, but certainly if thei know my hart thei woold not

176 SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.

altogether so judg me. I wrote to yow a letter by Will, my
Lord of Lester's jesting plaier, enclosed in a letter to my
wyfe, and I never had answer thereof. It contained some-
thing to my Lord of Lester, and council y* som wai might be
taken to stai my lady there. I, since, dyvers tymes have
writt to know whether you had receaved them, but yow never
answered me y' point. I since find yl the knave deliver'd
the letters to my Lady of Lester, but whether she sent them
yow or no I know not, but earnestly desyre to do, becaws I
dout there is more interpreted thereof. Mr. Erington is with
me at Flushing, and therefore I think myself at the more rest,
having a man of his reputation ; but I assure yow, Sir, in
good earnest, I fynd Burlas another manner of a man than he
is taken for, or I expected. I would to God, Burne had ob-
tained his suit. He is ernest, but somewhat discomposed
with consideration of his estate. Turner is good for nothing,
and worst for ye sownd of ye hackbutes. We shall have a
sore warr uppon us this sommer, wherein if appointment had
been kept, and these disgraces forborn, wch have greatly
weakened us, we had been victorious. I can sai no more at
this tyme, but prai for your long and happy lyfe. At Utrecht,
this 24th of March, 1586.

" Your humble son,

" PH. SIDNEY.

" I know not what to sai to my wyve's coming till you
resolve better ; for if yow run a strange cource, I may take
such a one heere as will not be fitt for anye of the feminin
gender. I prai yow make much of Nichol Gery. I have been
vyldlie deceaved for armures or horsemen ; if yow cold
speedily spare me any out of your armury, I will send them
yow back as soon as my own be finished. There was never
so good a father find a more troublesom son. Send Sir Wil-
liam Pelham, good Sir, and let him have Clerke's place, for
we need no clerkes, and it is most necessary to have such a
one in the counsell."

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. 177

On the fifth of May, following the date of this letter, he
lost his father, and on the ninth of August, his mother.
Providence thus mercifully spared them the dreadful trial
which was fast approaching. Sir Philip having highly distin-
guished himself in many actions of various fortune, command-
ing on the twenty-fourth of September a detachment of the
army, met accidentally a convoy of the enemy, on its way to
Zutphen, a strong town of Guelderland, which they were
then besieging. He attacked it with a very inferior force,
and an engagement of uncommon fury ensued, in which
having had one horse shot under him, and being remounted,
he received a musket shot a little above the left knee, which
shattered the bone, and passed upwards towards the body.
As they were bearing him from the field of battle towards the
camp (for the anecdote, though already so often told, cannot
be too often repeated,) he became faint and thirsty from
excess of bleeding, and asked for water, which he was about
to drink, when observing the eye of a dying soldier fixed on
the glass, he resigned it to him, saying " Thy necessity is yet
greater than mine." He was carried to Arnheim, and vari-
ously tortured by a multitude of surgeons and physicians for
three weeks. Amputation, or the extraction of the ball,
would have saved his inestimable life, but they were unwilling
to practise the one, and knew not how to perform the other.
In the short intervals which he spared during his confinement
from severe exercises of piety he wrote verses on his wound,
and made his will at uncommon length, and with the most
scrupulous attention. Of that instrument, which is inserted,
with some mistakes, in Collins's Sidney Papers, Sir Fulke
Greville most justly says, <k This will of his, will ever remain
for a witness to the world that those sweet and large, even
dying, affections in him, could no more be contracted with
the narrowness of pain, grief, or sickness, than any sparkle of
our immortality can be privately buried in the shadow of
death." It is dated the last day of September, 1586, and on
the seventeenth of October he added a codicil, with many

l78 SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.

tokens of regard to intimate friends. A small but interesting
fact disclosed by that codicil, has hitherto escaped the notice
of his biographers. It ends with these words : " I give to my
good friends, Sir George Digby and Sir Henry Goodier, each
a ring of ... ." His dictation was interrupted by death.

Thus ended a life, doubtless of great designs, but of few
incidents. The jealousy and timidity of Elizabeth denied to
Sir Philip Sidney any share in her state confidence ; excluded
him from a cabinet which he would have enlightened by his
counsels, and purified by the example of his honour and
integrity ; and devoted him to an honourable banishment,
and a premature death. Such a man should have had such
a master as Henry the Fourth of France, and a concord of all
that was wise, and virtuous, and amiable, might have gone
far towards gaining the empire of Europe, by winning the
hearts of its people. But he was consigned to almost pri-
vate life, and a strict observer of his mind and heart would
have been his best biographer. Most of the inestimable
story which such a one might have preserved for our delight
and our instruction is lost for ever. Sir Fulke Greville,
who however entirely loved him, wanted the talent, or the
feeling, or both, which might have excited and enabled him
to record innumerable effusions of goodness, and wisdom,
and genius, imbibed by himself, even at the fountain-head :
but his book, which has been the chief groundwork for sub-
sequent writers, contains little but meagre facts and vapid
eulogium. Those who would study then with precision the
detail of Sidney's character must seek it in his writings, and
I regret that the proposed limits of the present publication
are too confined to allow of disquisition to that effect. 1
shall conclude, however, by enumerating them, adding a very
few remarks.

We do not find that any of his works were published
while he lived. The Arcadia, which has been translated
into most of the living tongues, and so frequently reprinted,
first appeared in 1591 ; as did "Astrophel and Stella," a

SIB PHILIP SIDNEY. 179

long series of Sonnets and Songs, intended, as is said, to
express his passion for the fair Lady Rich. " The Defence
of Poesy," a critical rhapsody, full of classical intelligence
and acute observation, was first printed in 1595 ; these only
of his works were published singly. Other of his Sonnets,
a poem called " A Remedy for Love," and " The Lady of
May," a masque, have been subjoined to different editions
of the Arcadia. In a volume published in 1600, and now
lately reprinted, with the title of " England's Helicon, or a
Collection of Songs," are many from his pen. His answer
to that furious volume of vengeance against his uncle, well
known by the title of " Leicester's Commonwealth," remained
in manuscript so late as 1746, when Collins inserted it in
his fine publication of the Sidney Papers. There are a few
other pieces, both in verse and prose, which, having been
perhaps falsely ascribed to him, I forbear to mention.

Notwithstanding all that we have heard of Sir Philip
Sidney's early fondness for literature, I am inclined to think
that, had he been placed in his proper sphere, we might
never have known him as an author. The character of his
talents, the form of his education, the habits of his early
society, and his own earnest inclination, combined to qualify
him for a statesman of the first order. Disappointed in his
favourite views, his activity probably sought relief in literary
exercise, and hence we find more of the mind than of the
heart, more judgment than fancy, in the productions of his
pen. He fled to the muse, perhaps, rather for refuge than
enjoyment, and courted her more in the spirit of a friend
than of a lover ; but the warmth of the attachment was
sufficient to produce a flame which was always bright and
pure, and which, if it did not dazzle, at least never failed to
enlighten. His works in general may be characterised as the
choicest fruits of universal study, and unbounded recollection,
selected by a mind which while it possessed equal measures
of the most powerful vigour, and the most refined delicacy,
was ruled by the highest sentiments of religious, moral, and

180 SIB PHILIP SIDNEY.

social duty. He was deficient in originality, but the splen-
dour of his virtues and of his talents awed criticism to
silence, or charmed it into unqualified approbation ; till a
writer, confessedly at the head of his own most agreeable
class, stood boldly forward, not to start that objection, but
to deny nearly all which the united suffrages of Europe had
for two centuries implicitly agreed to grant. Lord Orford,
in his sketch of the life of Sir Fulke Greville, calls Sir Philip
Sidney " an astonishing object of temporary admiration ; "
discovers his Arcadia to be " a tedious, lamentable, pedantic,
pastoral romance ; " and insults the sublimity of his exit by
ascribing it to " the rashness of a volunteer." But the
noble writer delighted in biographical paradoxes, and perhaps
in controverting received opinions and high authorities. It
was natural enough for the champion of Richard the Third
to turn his weapons against Sir Philip Sidney, as well as to
endeavour to pull down the character of Lord Falkland,
from the height on which it had been placed by the glowing
pen of the immortal Clarendon. But a truce with such
specks of criticism. Let them who are able and willing to
judge for themselves, turn to the Defence of Poesy for the
prodigious extent and variety of Sidney's studies, and for
his judicious application of the results of them : let them
contemplate even in the very first pages of the Arcadia, the
readiness and playfulness of his wit, and in the whole,
innumerable scattered proofs of his speculative and practical
wisdom ; let them compare his style, both in verse and
prose, with those of contemporary authors ; and they will
turn, with a sentiment almost amounting to anger, from a
solitary judgment founded in caprice, and uttered at least
with indiscretion.

However imprudent it may be to place in the same view
with my own observations a passage so finely conceived, and
so exquisitely expressed, I cannot conclude, without citing
in justification of some of the opinions which I have pre-
sumed here to give, the words of an admirable living critic.

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.

181

" Sidney," says he, in comparing his poetical talents with
those of Lord Buckhurst, "displays more of the artifices,
and less of the inspiration of Poetry. His command of
language, and the variety of his ideas are conspicuous. His
mind exhibits an astonishing fund of acquired wealth ; but
images themselves never seem to overcome him with all the
power of actual presence. The ingenuity of his faculties
supplies him with a lively substitute ; but it is not vivid,
like the reality."

WARY, QUIEE^! ©IF SCOTS.

OB: 1587.

MARY STUART,

QUEEN OF SCOTLAND.

THE writer of these memoirs having formerly been the
humble instrument of discovering and promulgating many
very curious particulars of Mary's eventful story, it might
perhaps be expected that he should be more inclined, and
even better qualified, than many others, now to treat of it
somewhat at large ; neither of those motives, however, were
he sensible of such, could tempt him to assume the task.
All the stones of history and tradition, of public records and
private collections, have been already ransacked ; argument
and reasonable conjecture have been exhausted ; the fields
even of imagination and fancy have been traversed in search
of bright or hideous visions to enhance the charms of her
person and her wit, and to aggravate the horror of her suffer-
ings. Nay, while in the fear of saying too much I am thus
apologising for saying so little, appears a complete " Life of
Mary, Queen of Scots," from the ever employed and ever
instructive pen of Mr. George Chalmers, who has once more
journeyed over the whole of this interesting ground, and
seems to have left no stone unturned which might by possi-
bility have concealed any novel object of his research. The
whole result is surely now before the public. It compre-
hends a tale which the heart has eagerly accepted from all
the passions, and fixed irrevocably in the memory. To repeat
it would be impertinent ; to enlarge it, till new discoveries
shall be made, is impossible.

184 MARY STUART,

The only object then of the few following lines is to give
some account of the picture an engraving from which accom-
panies them. The numerous portraits hitherto ascribed to
this Princess are as various and as dissimilar as the circum-
stances of her life, or the features of her character, agreeing
only in the single fact of representing her as eminently
beautiful. No strong internal presumption, no inveterate
tradition, tends to distinguish the authenticity of any one of
them : the several professed resemblances of her countenance
have excited almost as much doubt and controversy as the
disputed points of her history : and thus a genuine likeness
of this celebrated lady may be reckoned among the first of
the elegant and tasteful desiderata of the present age. How
far the beautiful specimen of two arts which is before us may
tend to decide the question must rest in great measure on the
degree of credit that may be esteemed due to a report which
has been regularly handed down in the family of the noble
owner of the picture, and which must necessarily be here
prefaced by the brief recital of a small portion of Mary's
history.

In the year 1567, which is well known to have been dis-
tinguished, fatally for her reputation, by the murder of her
husband, and her marriage to the infamous Both well, the
most powerful among the nobility of Scotland associated for
the declared purposes of separating her from that wretch, and
protecting the person of the young Prince, her son. With
the usual fate of such combinations, they went much further :
they made their Queen a captive; led her triumphantly
through the army with which they had strengthened them-
selves ; and, having imprisoned her closely in the Castle of
Lochleven, deposed her, and crowned her son. The owner
of the castle was a Douglas, nearly related to the celebrated
Earl of Morton, the most considerable person of the confe-
derates, and who had been commissioned by them to accept
her surrender. Here she remained nearly twelve months.
At length, after the failure of various plans to liberate her,

QUEEN OF SCOTLAND. 185

formed by those who still remained true to her interest, she
accomplished it herself, by gaining over George Douglas,
brother of her keeper. On this young man, under the age of
twenty, and already a slare to that beauty the magic of which
no one could wholly resist, she employed all the graces of
mind and manners with which nature and .art had so
abundantly furnished her, and to leave no passion of his heart
unassailed which might be rendered subservient to her view,
is said to have tempted his ambition by giving him hopes that
he might obtain her hand. When she had completed her
charm, she besought him to aid her escape. He instantly
complied, for who could have hesitated ? and, by means
which, however curious and interesting, it is not to the
present purpose to recapitulate, restored her to freedom.

The picture which has furnished the plate before ns has
been preserved with the greatest care, from time immemorial,
in the mansion of Dalmahoy, the principal seat in Scotland
of the Earl of Morton ; on the upper part of it is inscribed,
with a modesty of assertion which tends to favour the report
of its originality, " Mary, Queen of Scots, said to have been
painted during her confinement in Lochleven Castle ;" and
the noble Earl who at present possesses it, has enhanced the
value of his permission to place an engraving from it among
the chief ornaments of this work, by condescending to state
that, according to an invariable tradition in his Lordship's
family, it was once the property of George Douglas, the
liberator of Mary, and that it passed from him, together with
other curious relics of that unhappy Princess, to his eminent
relation, James, fourth Earl of Morton, who has been men-
tioned above, in whose posterity it has remained to the
present day.

From the same picture also professes to have been engraved
a plate which supplies the frontispiece to the first volume of
Mr. Chalmers's new work, and its striking dissimilitude to
the portrait here presented renders some reluctant remarks

186 MARY STUART,

on it highly necessary in this place. It is scarcely too much
to say that neither the features, nor the general character of
countenance, given in the two engravings, bear even the
slightest resemblance to each other ; and this variance between
two copies taken from the same original, which is allowed to
possess stronger claims to authenticity than any other paint-
ing, is the more distressing, as it was hoped that the engraving
before us would have done much towards putting to rest the
long-disputed question as to Mary's features, and the skill
and talents of the painter who copied the original, together
with the clear opinion of its correctness, after actual com-
parison with the painting, expressed by the noble Earl who
possesses the picture, may be received as pledges for its exact
fidelity. Having thus established the claim of the engraving
here presented, to be considered as the genuine representation
of Mary's portrait, the failure in that of Mr. Chalmers's alone
remains to be accounted for.

That gentleman discloses to us in his preface a new and
most extraordinary discovery by which he has been enabled,
with the aid of an artist, of whom he expresses a high opinion,
to produce, de novo, a correct portrait of Mary ; and one of
the most singular features of the invention is, that the dis-
tracting variety of those which have hitherto individually
pretended to originality constitutes the very source which
gives undoubted authenticity to his. Having spoken of those
perplexities of which no one before had known how to take
the advantage, Mr. Chalmers says : " In this state of uncer-
tainty with regard to the person of the Scottish Queen, I
employed a very ingenious artist to paint that celebrated
Queen from such sketches, pictures, and other materials, as
might be laid before his intelligent eyes : at the same time I
presumed to think that her features might be settled by
ascertaining the facts relating to her person like other mat-
ters of history." In other words, that the artist was to copy
from one picture a pair of eyes, justified by the authority of

QUEEN OF SCOTLAND. 187

Melvil ; a nose from another, corroborated by the report of
Keith ; from a com, a smile which had been cursed by Knox ;
and from a figure on a tomb, a frown which Buchanan had
recorded to have been levelled at him ; and the like ; and
from the combination of these pictorial and historical tesserae
Mr. Chalmers's hopes were at length fulfilled by the acquisi-
tion of a portrait which, to use his own words, " has been
very generally admired for its truth and its elegance." From
this picture was engraved the plate which is prefixed to the
second volume of his work.

Now, to speak seriously, Mr. Chalmers, whose kindness
and candour I know too well to expect his displeasure at
these remarks, has left, fortunately for us, to the idle and the
careless those lighter studies which employ the mind without
fatigue, and gratify the fancy without informing the under-
standing. A votary to history, his affection for it has led
him to give too large a credit to its descriptive powers, while
a negligence of the more delicate and less important theory
of the human face divine has left him at liberty to suppose
the impossibility, that a mere junction of features, however
correctly each may have been individually represented and
copied, should produce what we commonly call a likeness.
The artist who could propose or encourage such a suggestion
merits not so mild a judgment.

To conclude, the fact seems to be that the picture which
assumes to have been so whimsically composed (vol. ii.) was
ill copied from that which is stated to be a copy from the
Douglas picture (vol. i.), to which it has scarcely any resem-
blance (except in the dress, in which the artist condescend-
ingly tells us in Mr. Chalmers's preface, he " did not chuse
to make any fanciful alteration"), or vice versa : in short,
that the artist judged it necessary to produce somehow an
evident agreement between the two. It need only be added
that the sole view of these observations is to record a caveat
against any inference adverse to the authenticity of the por-

188 MARY STUART, QUEEN OP SCOTLAND.

trait here presented, which might possibly be drawn from a
careless comparison of it with either of the two engravings in
Mr. Chalmers's history of Mary ; and this is rendered the
more necessary by an anticipation of the respect which will
undoubtedly and justly be paid to that work. A jealousy of
fair reputation, and a regard to weighty interests, equally
excusable, have demanded this explanation.

ROBERT DUDLEY,

EAHl, . STER.

OB; 1586,

ROBERT DUDLEY,

EARL OF LEICESTER.

THIS mighty Peer, whose history will ever remain a
memorial of the injustice and the folly, as well as of the
unbounded power, of his Sovereign, was the fifth son of the
equally mighty, but less fortunate, John Dudley, Duke of
Northumberland, by Jane, daughter of Sir Henry Guldeford.
The father's greatness shot forth with the rapidity and the
splendour of a vast meteor, and was as suddenly lost in
darkness : the son's, planet-like, rose somewhat more slowly,
and traversed its hemisphere in a more regular obedience to
the power, from which it derived its motion and its brilliancy.
It obeyed however no other power, for Leicester offended
against all laws, both divine and human. He seems not to
have possessed a single virtue, nor was he highly distinguished
by the qualities of his understanding ; but the unlimited favour
of Elizabeth, which for many years rendered him perhaps the
most powerful subject in the world, invested him with a
factitious importance, while, on his part, by a degree of hypo-
crisy so daring that it rather confounded than deceived the
minds of men, he contrived to avoid open censure. Even
flattery however seems to have been ashamed to raise her
voice for him while he lived, and the calm and patient
research of after times, with all its habitual respect for the
memory of the illustrious dead, has busied itself in vain to
find a single bright spot on his character.

He was born in or about the year 1532. His father, who

190 ROBERT DUDLEY,

surrounded the person of Edward the Sixth with his offspring,
procured for him in 1551 the post of one of the six Gentlemen
of the Bedchamber, and about the same time that of Master
of the King's buck-hounds. Edward, with the common
readiness of youth, accepted him as a familiar companion,
and evinced towards him a partiality bordering on favouritism.
On the discomfiture of the feeble attempt to place his sister-
in-law, Jane Grey, on the Throne, and the accession of Mary,
he was imprisoned in the Tower, merely, as it should seem,
because he was his father's son, for history furnishes us with
no trace of his active participation in that design. He was
indicted, however, of high treason, and prudently pleading
guilty, received sentence of death, apparently as a matter of
form, and, soon after, a pardon, and was liberated on the
eighteenth of October, 1554. Mary indeed immediately took
him in some measure into her favour ; and we find in Strype's
Memorials that after her marriage to Philip he attached him-
self particularly to that Prince, and was chosen "to carry
messages between the King and Queen, riding post on such
occasions, and neglecting nothing that might ingratiate himself
with either of them." It was at the intercession of Philip,
as all historians agree, that such of the prisoners for Jane's
forlorn cause as escaped with life were set at liberty ; nor is
it less certain that the rigours of Elizabeth's captivity were
softened through his influence. It may be very probably
conjectured, though it has hitherto escaped the observation of
historical speculatists, that Dudley was the secret instrument
of correspondence between the King and that Princess, and
that the dawn of her enormous subsequent favour towards
him may be very reasonably ascribed to the impression made
on her youthful heart, in a season of danger and misfortune,
by a young man who possessed every natural and artificial
qualification to win feminine affection.

She appointed him, immediately on her accession, to the
distinguished office of Master of the Horse, and shortly after,
on the fourth of June, 1559, he was installed a Knight of the

EARL OF LEICESTER. 191

Garter, and sworn of the Privy Council. These great prefer-
ments were presently followed by grants of estates tb an
immense value, among which we find his celebrated manor
and castle of Kenilworth, in Warwickshire ; nor was the
Crown the sole source of his growing power and wealth, for
numerous public bodies, particularly of the ecclesiastical
order, in the hope of securing to their respective interests the
vast influence which he evidently possessed over the mind of
the Queen, elected him to their stewardships, and other
municipal offices, which, not to mention the sums which he
annually derived from them, extended his authority into
almost every part of the realm. That such an extravagance
of good fortune should have excited envy and competition
might reasonably be expected, but few ever ventured to appear
in open rivalry towards him. Thomas Radclyffe, Earl of
Sussex, perhaps the most virtuous and high-spirited, and
certainly one of the wisest, of Elizabeth's servants, openly
opposed himself from public motives to the secret design
which Dudley undoubtedly entertained of becoming her
husband, and was joined by Henry Fitzalan, Earl of Arundel,
who had with less reserve aspired to that proud distinction :
the rest submitted with despair, or sullen patience, to a power
which seemed impregnable by the attacks of faction or the
machinations of intrigue ; even Burghley, esteemed as he was
for his sagacity and probity, condescended to profess for the
favourite an esteem which he could not have felt. Elizabeth,
as though for the express purpose of giving a colour to his
arrogant view of partaking her bed, now proved to himself
and to the world that she thought him worthy of a royal
spouse, by proposing him in form as a husband to the young
Queen of Scots, by whom she knew he would be rejected.
Thus he stood in the Court of his mistress, when on the
twenty-eighth of September, 1564, she raised him to the
dignity of Baron of Denbigh, and on the following day to
the Earldom of Leicester, and towards the end of that year
the University of Oxford elected him their Chancellor. He

192 ROBERT DUDLEY,

accompanied Elizabeth soon after in a visit to that learned
body, and was received with a respect and deference perhaps
never before conceded to any of her subjects, and which in
fact could not properly have been due to any one beneath the
rank of her consort.

In the mean time however the Queen, by a treaty of
marriage with the Archduke Charles of Austria, which bore
every mark of sincerity, cast a lasting damp on his proud
hopes. Leicester had so far presumed on her partiality as to
oppose the negotiation, not only in argument with herself
and her Council, but even publicly, and was rebuked by her
with a severity which, while it convinced him of the vanity
of his splendid pretensions, left him no room to doubt that
self-love, and a resolution to preserve her independence, were
the ruling features of her character. His disappointment
was confined to the frustration of this single view, for in all
other matters her favour and his influence remained unim-
paired ; and, now at leisure to pursue a more ordinary track
of ambition, he sought, with the aid of a most profound dis-
simulation, to maintain the possession of them : nor was this
caution unnecessary, for the repulse which he had lately
experienced from the Queen had disclosed to him enemies
perhaps before unsuspected, and encouraged his rivals to a
more open show of competition. Among the latter was
Thomas Howard, fourth Duke of Norfolk, a nobleman not
only invested with the utmost importance that splendour of
descent, immense wealth, and no very distant kindred to
Elizabeth, could bestow, but one of the few of her subjects
whom a party in her Court and Council had flattered with
the hope of gaining her hand. Leicester determined on the
ruin of a man thus in every way hateful to him ; and, as it
could be accomplished only by treachery, insinuated himself
into the confidence of the Duke, who was distinguished by
the generosity and simplicity of his character. Norfolk
communicated to him the plan which he had formed for a
marriage with the Queen of Scots, with all his weighty

EARL OF LEICESTER. 193

dependencies ; was directed in every step towards it by his
counsel, and when it approached to fruition was betrayed by
him to Elizabeth ; who indeed it may be reasonably suspected
had employed him from the beginning for that purpose.

These detestable facts have been fully proved against him ;
but it is to the last degree difficult, not to say impossible,
such were the depth of his artifices, and the dead secrecy of
his instruments, to obtain clear historical evidence of the
most remarkable features of his conduct in public measures,
and towards public servants. His agency was felt, but not
seen ; or if those who were bound by his spells sometimes
obtained a glimpse of the enchanter, he was presently again
shrouded in utter darkness. Much, however, has been
proved, and more inferred from circumstances. Having over-
thrown the Duke of Norfolk, he conceived about the same
time a bitter hatred against the Queen of Scots, and Burghley,
who had been the intimate and confidential friend of that
unfortunate nobleman. It was probably the offspring of
fear, for there can be little doubt that each of them pos-
sessed damning proofs of his late treachery. The rigours of
Mary's tedious captivity, the strange vacillations of Eliza-
beth's policy regarding her, and her tragical end, may be
most reasonably ascribed to his influence over the worst
passions of his infatuated mistress ; yet he found means to
impress on the mind of Maiy a persuasion that he com-
miserated her sufferings, and she more than once appealed to
his pity. His reiterated insinuations against Cecil were,
however, always unsuccessful. Elizabeth regarded that great
minister with feelings directly opposite to those of fear and
anger, and all her selfishness was awakened to protect him.
Leicester at length ventured to quit for a moment the strong-
hold of his accustomed obscurity, and allowed the faction of
which he was the acknowledged head to frame a regular
accusation of Burghley to the Privy Council, but the plan
was discovered to the Queen before it was fully matured,
and the favourite was once more reprimanded by her.

II. 0

194 ROBERT DUDLEY,

Original letters from him to the Treasurer, written at this
precise period, stuffed with the most fulsome flattery, and
professions of the warmest friendship, are still extant.

He is said to have appeased his vengeance by the sacrifice
of Sir Nicholas Throgmorton, a bold and busy politician,
who, after having been deeply concerned in the negotiations
between Mary and the Duke of Norfolk, unexpectedly quitted
Leicester's party, and attached himself to Burghley. He died
very suddenly in the Earl's house, as it was industriously
reported, of a pleurisy, after partaking of a supper to which
Leicester had invited him, but little doubt was entertained
that he had been taken off by poison, and the malice with
which the favourite presently afterwards pursued his family
almost established the fact. That Leicester dealt in that
horrible method of assassination cannot be reasonably contro-
verted, however we may be inclined to question some parti-
cular charges of that nature among the many which have
been made against him. The honourable and amiable Walter
Devereux, Earl of Essex, to whom, both for public and private
causes, he was a determined enemy, and whose gallant ser-
vices in Ireland he had cruelly thwarted and depreciated,
perished in that country with a clear impression on his mind,
corroborated by the opinion of all who happened to be then
about him, that his death had been so procured. The Countess
of Lennox, (the mode of whose royal descent presented an
obstacle to the possible inheritance of the Crown, derived
from George Duke of Clarence, by Leicester's kinsman and
favourite the Earl of Huntingdon, a speculation which he
much cherished,) died, with strong symptoms of poison, pre-
sently after having received a visit from him. Nay, it has
been generally reported, though probably untruly, that he
retained in his establishment two persons, an Italian and a
Jew, who were adepts in the diabolical art of preparing the
means for such sacrifices ; but the very exaggerations of the
general charge on his memory tend to prove that it must have
been in some degree well founded.

EARL OF LEICESTER. 195

Yet this iniquitous man, not less odious in his private life,
as we shall presently see, than disgraceful to the Queen and
her Court ; an enemy and torment to her ministers ; the prime
patron of the Puritans, whom she secretly regarded perhaps
with more terror than the Papists ; not only maintained his
ground, but gradually rose in the estimation of Elizabeth to
the last hour of his life. She seemed even anxious to publish
to the world the distinction in which she held him. Her
celebrated visit to him at his mansion of Kenilworth, in July
1575, was protracted to the length of nineteen days, an honour
never on any other occasion granted by her to a subject. In
June 1577, she so far forgot herself as to write thus to the
Earl and Countess of Shrewsbury — " Our very good cousins
— Being given to understand from our cousin of Leicester
how honourably he was not only lately received by you, our
cousin the Countess, at Chatsworth, and his diet by you both
discharged at Buxtons, but also presented with a very rare
present, we should do him great wrong, holding him in that
place of favour we do, in case we should not let you under-
stand in how thankful sort we accept the same at both your
hands, not as done unto him but to our own self, reputing
him as another self ; and therefore ye may assure yourselves
that we, taking upon us the debt not as his but our own,
will take care accordingly to discharge the same in such
honourable sort as so well deserving creditors as ye shall
never have cause to think ye have met with an ungrateful
debtor." Numerous instances of this extravagant folly might
be cited, and indeed Leicester's arrogance and presumption
under such temptations form the most defensible part of his
character. The degrading exposure of her motive, however,
was yet to come — at this period he once more asked her
hand, and was once more refused. Enraged at the disap-
pointment, he instantly married, without making any com-
munication to her of his intention ; and Elizabeth, in utter
contempt not only of the delicacy of her sex and the dignity
of her station, but of all principles of law and justice which
o2

196 ROBERT DUDLEY,

could bear any relation to the case, tore him from the arms
of his bride, and imprisoned him in a little fortress which
then stood in the park at Greenwich. This transport of
angry jealousy, however, soon subsided. Leicester was re-
leased, and restored to full favour, and is said to have con-
soled himself for his short disgrace with schemes for the
assassination of Simier, an agent from the Duke of Anjou,
who was then in London, negotiating for the projected mar-
riage of that Prince to Elizabeth, and whom he suspected to
have apprised her of his own secret nuptials.

This treaty, which had been for a while suspended, was
renewed in 1581, when a more honourable embassy arrived
from the French Court, and Leicester, who had now thought
fit to assume the character of an advocate for the proposed
union, was named among those who were appointed to confer
with the commissioners. Anjou soon followed ; but the
strange caprice of Elizabeth on this occasion, which forms a
remarkable and well known feature in the history of the
time, finally disgusted him so highly, that, after three months'
residence in her court, he suddenly embarked in the begin-
ning of the succeeding year, for the Low Countries, the
government of which he had lately accepted. She indulged
Leicester with the triumph of convoying thither his illus-
trious and rejected rival, and in this visit he probably laid the
groundwork for that proud appointment to which, by the
joint act of herself and those States, he was soon after nomi-
nated. He returned to a Court and Council agitated by the
discovery of some designs lately projected by the friends of
the unhappy Mary, and yet more by doubts and suspicions.
He seized the opportunity of displaying his loyalty, and of
indulging his hatred of the royal prisoner, by proposing to
the nobility and gentry a bond of association by which they
should engage themselves to pursue, even unto death, those
who might form any plan against the life, or crown, or dig-
nity, of Elizabeth. Mary was in fact the secret object of
this widely-extended menace, but the terror which it inspired

EARL OF LEICESTER. 197

having for a time paralysed the efforts of her adherents, he
became impatient of her existence, and boldly moved the
Queen that she should be taken off by poison. Elizabeth,
nothing loth, undoubtedly proposed it to her ministers, for it
is historically proved that Walsingham, practised and even
hackneyed as he was in a sort of treachery legalised by the
fatal necessity of States, protested against so heinous a
measure, and insisted that she should not be put to death
without at least the forms of judicial inquiry.

It was just at this period that a deadly invective, under the
title of " Leicester's Commonwealth," or at least so entitled
in subsequent editions, issued from the press in Flanders,
and was presently dispersed in vast abundance throughout
England, and indeed in most of the nations of Europe. It
consisted of a circumstantial relation of all the crimes and
faults which had been at any time laid to the charge of the
favourite, delivered with the utmost artifice of affected can-
dour and simplicity, and intermixed with political reflections,
tending to prove that every cause of complaint which existed
in England might be traced to his malign influence. No
publication ever before obtained so sudden and extensive a
circulation. It was read with the utmost avidity ; and the
ridiculous efforts for its suppression made by Elizabeth,
whose policy where Leicester was concerned always gave
way to her passions, served but to excite to the highest pitch
the curiosity of her subjects. She compelled her Council to
address letters to the lieutenants of counties, and other public
functionaries, charging them to prohibit the perusal of the
pamphlet, and to punish severely the dispersers of it ; and,
not content with this degree of folly, made them insert a
declaration (to use their own words) that " her Majesty tes-
tified in her conscience before God that she knew in assured
certainty the books and libels published against the Earl to
be most scandalous, and such as none but an incarnate devil
himself could dream to be true." Her subservient Council,
most of the members of which utterly detested him, outran

198 ROBERT DUDLEY,

their mistress in vehement assertions of his innocence —
assertions which they knew to be false, and of the truth of
which, had they been otherwise than false, no evidence could
possibly have been obtained. There is indeed little reason
to doubt any of the allegations of this celebrated libel. Sir
Philip Sidney, who was Leicester's nephew, sat down, in all
the pride and heat of youth, and full consciousness of talent,
to refute them, and almost wholly failed. Despairing of
success, and perhaps at length deterred from attempting it in
such a cause by that fine moral feeling which distinguished
him, he laid his work aside, after considerable progress, the
fruit of which remained unpublished till the appearance, of
late years, of the Sidney Papers.

In the following year, 1585, the United Provinces, yet
unable to establish their independence, reiterated a request
formerly made to Elizabeth, to become their sovereign.
Anxious at once to avoid the jealous imputation of an
ambitious desire of extending her dominion to curb the
power of Spain, and to aid the Protestant cause, she refused
the offer, but readily agreed to furnish them with a power-
ful aid of troops and money. Leicester solicited, and
instantly obtained, the command of this expedition, and
was received, on his landing at Flushing, of which his
nephew Sidney had been previously appointed Governor,
with all the respect due to a Viceroy, which character, in
contradiction to his instructions, he instantly assumed. The
States, eager to persuade Philip the Second that Elizabeth
exercised a virtual sovereignty over them, invested the Earl
by a solemn act with supreme authority, which he readily
accepted, and, amidst the gorgeous festivities prepared to
celebrate his exaltation, letters arrived from her, both to
himself and to the States, in a tone of unexampled fury. —
" We little thought," said she to Leicester, " that one whom
we had raised out of the dust, and prosecuted with such
singular favour above all others, would with so great con-
tempt have slighted and broken our commands in a matter

EARL OF LEICESTER. 199

of so great consequence, and so highly concerning us and
our honour," &c. This was worthy of the daughter of
Henry the Eighth, but the weakness of Elizabeth presently
succeeded. Leicester returned a submissive explanation,
and was instantly restored to full favour, nor does it appear
even that the appointment which had produced this ebulli-
tion of capricious wrath was revoked. His service, however,
in the Low Countries was marked by misfortune and dis-
grace. Totally deficient in military experience, he found
himself opposed to the Prince of Parma, one of the first
generals of the age, and a politician also of no mean fame ;
and his admirable nephew, whose advice had aided him in
the council, and whose example had invigorated him in the
field, fell a sacrifice to the intemperance of his valour before
the walls of Zutphen. The States became envious of his
authority, and thwarted the measures of his government,
already weak and inefficient, and he increased their jealousy
by striving to ingratiate himself with the people. He
returned to England, disgusted but unwillingly ; the faction
which he had formed prevailed on the States again to solicit
his presence, and on the twenty-fifth of June, 1587, he
landed in Zealand, with new levies. Fresh discords how-
ever arising, Elizabeth, with his concurrence, finally recalled
him in the succeeding November, and shielded him by her
authority against a regular charge of mal-administration in
the Low Countries, which had been prepared before his
arrival, and was now preferred to the Privy Council by a
party of his enemies, headed by the Lord Buckhurst, whom
the Queen had lately sent thither to learn the true state of
affairs, and who was rewarded for his pains by a vote of
censure and an imprisonment of several months.

Leicester had now reached the highest pinnacle of favour
and power. Elizabeth could refuse him nothing, and her
ministers, even Burghley himself, seem to have trembled at
his nod. All the most important commands, civil and mili-
tary, in the nation, were in the hands of his relations or

200 ROBERT DUDLEY,

friends ; to the offices already held by himself she had very
lately added those of Steward of her Household and Chief
Justice of the forests south of Trent ; and in the summer of
1588, placed him at the head of the army which she had
raised to resist the expected Spanish invasion. She thus
concluded her speech to these troops, when she reviewed
them at Tilbury — " Rather than any dishonour shall grow by
me, I myself will take up arms ; I myself will be your
general, judge, and re warder of every one of your virtues in
the field. I know already by your forwardness that you have
deserved rewards and crowns ; and I do assure you, on the word
of a prince, they shall be duly paid you. In the meantime,
my lieutenant general shall be in my stead, than whom never
prince commanded a more noble and worthy siibject." In
this moment, such is the insatiable thirst of ambition, he
solicited Elizabeth to appoint him to the office, not less
unusual than enormously powerful and dignified, of Lieute-
nant, or Vicegerent, of her kingdoms of England and Ireland,
and even this, tenacious as she was of her royal authority,
she readily conceded to him. It is said that a patent for this
mighty appointment was ready for the Great Seal, when
Burghley, and her Chancellor Hatton, ventured to remon-
strate with her, and so far succeeded as to obtain leave to
suspend for some days that gratification. In the meantime
Leicester left London for a short sojournment at Kenil worth
Castle, and on his way thither stopped at his house of Corn-
bury, in Oxfordshire, where he was seized by a rapid fever,
and expired on the fourth of September, 1588.

From the foregoing sketch I have hitherto excluded any
particulars of the domestic life of this most remarkable per-
son. They will be found, singularly enough, considering the
cast of his character, to be little concerned with his public
story, the chain of which they would therefore but have
served to disconnect. All parts of his conduct, however,
morally viewed, were in horrible harmony, for the man was
as abominably wicked as the statesman and courtier.

EARL OF LEICESTER. 201

Leicester, at the age of eighteen, married Anne, or Amy,
daughter and heir of Sir John Robsart, a gentleman of Nor-
folk, distinguished by antiquity, indeed splendour, of descent,
-and by his great possessions in that county. They were
wedded, as Edward the Sixth, in whose presence the nuptials
were solemnised, states in his journal, on the fourth of June,
1550, and lived together, with what degree of cordiality we
are not informed, for ten years, but had no children. It is
scarcely to be doubted that he caused this lady to be assassi-
nated, and the circumstances of the time, as well as of the
case itself, tend to press on his memory this dreadful charge
perhaps more heavily than any other of the same character.
Her death occurred on the eighth of September, 1560, at the
very period when the lofty hope of obtaining the hand of
his sovereign may be clearly presumed to have reigned with
the strongest sway in his overheated mind. He sent her,
with what avowed motives does not appear, to the solitary
manor-house of Cumnor, in Berkshire, a village not far from
Oxford, inhabited by one of his train, named Anthony
Forster. Thither she was shortly followed by Sir Richard
Verney, another of his retainers, and a few days after, these
persons having sent all her servants to Abingdon Fair, and no
one being with her but themselves, she died in consequence,
as they reported, of a fall down a staircase. But " the inha-
bitants of Cumnor," says Aubrey, in whose history of Berk-
shire all that could be collected on the subject is minutely
detailed, " will tell you there that she was conveyed from
her usual chamber where she lay to another, where the bed's
head of the chamber stood close to a privy postern door, where
they in the night came, and stifled her in her bed ; bruised her
head very much ; broke her neck ; and at length flung her
down stairs ; thereby believing the world would have thought
it a mischance, and so have blinded their villainy." Nor was
this plan of violence adopted till after they had vainly
attempted to destroy her by poison, through the unconscious
aid of Dr. Bailey, then professor of physic in the University

202 ROBERT DUDLEY,

of Oxford, who had resisted their earnest importunity to
make a medicine for her, when he knew she was in perfect
health, suspecting, from his observation of circumstances, as
he afterwards declared, that they intended to add to it some
deadly drug, and trembling for his own safety. The dis-
figured corpse was hurried to the earth without a coroner's
inquest ; and to such a height did the pity and resentment
of the neighbouring families arise, that they employed the
pen of Thomas Lever, a prebendary of Coventry, to write to
the Secretaries of State, intreating that a strict inquiry should
be made into the true cause of the lady's death, but the
application had no effect. The strongest inference, however,
of Leicester's guilt in this case is to be drawn from a string
of reasons, noted down by Cecil himself, why the Queen
should not make him her husband, one of which is — " that
he is infamed by the death of his wife." — The effect of such
a remark, made by such a person, and for such a purpose,
wants little of the force of positive evidence.

The relaxations of such a man as Leicester are commonly
sought in the gratification of mere appetite, and such were
his. After a variety of amorous intrigues, not worthy of
recollection, he became more than usually attached to Douglas,
daughter of William Howard first Lord Effingham, and widow
of John, Lord Sheffield. Vulgar report, presuming on the
known enormities of his life, proclaimed that he had disposed
of her husband by those infernal secret means, so frequently
ascribed to him in other cases. Be this as it might, it is
certain that he married her, or deceived her into a pretended
marriage, immediately after the death of Lord Sheffield. By
this lady he had a son, with whose future story, remarkable
as it was rendered by the dispositions unhappily and infa-
mously made by the father, this memoir has no concern, and
a daughter. He stipulated with the unfortunate Douglas that
their marriage should be kept profoundly secret ; the children
were debarred from any intercourse with their mother ; and
the Earl, having some years after determined to marry

EARL OF LEICESTER. 203

another, compelled her by threats, by promises, and at length,
by attempts on her life, to make a most effectual, though
tacit renunciation of all marital claims on him, by publicly
taking to her husband Sir Edward Stafford. These nefarious
circumstances were disclosed, shortly before the death of
Elizabeth, in the prosecution of a suit in the Star Chamber,
instituted to establish the legitimacy, and consequent right
of inheritance, of her son ; and on this occasion Douglas,
after having proved by the testimony of many respectable
witnesses her marriage to the deceased Earl, declared on oath
the foul proceedings by which she had been forced to throw
herself into the arms and on the protection of Stafford ; con-
cluding with a relation of the means which Leicester had
previously used to take her off by poison, under the operation
of which she swore that her hair and her nails had fallen off ;
that her constitution had been ruined ; and that she had
narrowly escaped with life.

The object for whom he abandoned this miserable lady
was Lettice, daughter of Sir Francis Knollys, and relict of
Walter Devereux, Earl of Essex. The already strong suspi-
cion that Leicester had caused by the same diabolical means
the death of that nobleman, to which some slight allusion has
already been made, was aggravated to the utmost by the
indecent haste with which he wedded the widow, with whom
there was no doubt that he had for some time before main-
tained a guilty intercourse. This was the marriage which so
highly excited the displeasure of Elizabeth, and which she
unremittingly resented towards the Countess by an insulting
neglect, in spite of all the instances of the young Essex, her
son, who succeeded his uncle in the Queen's extravagant
favour. Leicester had by this lady, one son, Robert ; who
died in childhood four years before his father. She survived
the Earl for nearly half a century ; and persecuted with
tedious and ruinous suits his son by Lady Sheffield, whose
legitimacy Leicester, with a folly equal to his injustice, had
sometimes affirmed and sometimes denied, and to whom he

204 ROBERT DUDLEY, EARL OF LEICESTER.

had bequeathed his princely castle and domain of Kenilworth,
of which the unfortunate gentleman was at last in a manner
defrauded by the Crown in the succeeding reign.

Such, on the whole, was Elizabeth's most distinguished
favourite. History, to its lamentable discredit, invariably
asserts, in the same breath, his wickedness and the wisdom of
his royal patroness— one or the other of those assertions must
be false.

HOSE DUDLEY,

EARL OF WARWICK.
590,

AMBROSE DUDLEY,

EARL OF WARWICK.

EMINENCK of consanguinity, rather than any special merit
or fame of his own, beyond the quiet and unassuming recom-
mendation of an unblemished moral character, has preserved
the memory of this nobleman from a neglect perhaps ap-
proaching to oblivion. A son, and at length heir, of the
mighty Duke of Northumberland ; a brother of that paragon
of royal favour and of wickedness, Leicester, and of the
innocent and ill-fated consort of Jane Grey ; claimed, as it
were, in their right some degree of distinction, and history
has probably preserved all that could have been collected of
his story. He was the fourth, but at length eldest surviving
son of his father, by Jane, daughter of Sir Henry Guldeford,
and was born in the year 1530, or 1531.

He is said to have manifested at an early age a passion for
military fame. It is certain that he was in the expedition
commanded by his father in 1549 against the Norfolk rebels,
and not improbable that he owed the honour of knighthood,
which he received on the seventeenth of November in that
year, to some instances of that wild gallantry which in those
days was esteemed the prime qualification for a soldier. He
returned to the insipid life of a courtier, and we hear of him
only as a partaker in tournaments and banquets till the
arrest of the Duke, his father, with whom of course he had
engaged in the support of Jane Grey's weak and unwilling
pretensions to the Crown in July 1553. He was attainted,

206 AMBROSE DUDLEY,

and received sentence of death, together with his brothers,
John, Robert, and Henry, and they were confined in the
Tower of London till the eighteenth of October in the suc-
ceeding year, when Mary granted him a pardon for life,
permitted him to come to Court, and received him into some
degree of favour. Philip, her consort, for reasons not clearly
assigned, became the patron of the crest-fallen remains of the
House of Dudley. Ambrose volunteered into the Spanish
army, in the Low Countries, and distinguished himself in
the summer of 1557 at the celebrated battle of St. Quintin,
and his younger brother, Henry, who accompanied him in
the same character, fell during the siege of that place. Mary,
at the King's intercession, now dispelled the cloud in which
the extravagant ambition of Northumberland had involved
his progeny, and in the conclusion of that year, this young
nobleman, together with his surviving brother Robert, after-
wards Earl of Leicester, were fully restored by an act of
Parliament,

The stupendous influence of that brother, which marked
even the commencement of the reign of Elizabeth, presently
secured a large share of her favour to Ambrose. He obtained
a royal grant of estates in Leicestershire in her first year,
and in the next she appointed him Master of the Ordnance
for life. These boons were presently followed by the resto-
ration of some of his father's dignities ; on the twenty-fifth
of December, 1561, he was created Baron of Kingston Lisle
in the county of Berks, and on the following day Earl of
Warwick. It was just at this period that the great contest
began in France between the Papists and the Huguenots
which afterwards obtained the denomination of the War of
the League. The reformers solicited the aid of Elizabeth,
and offered to place in her hands one of the most consider-
able ports in Normandy, which they besought her to garrison
with English troops. She consented, not only readily but
eagerly, and Havre de Grace, generally called Newhaven by
the historical writers of that time, was given up to her ;

EARL OF WARWICK. 20?

Warwick was nominated to the command, with the title of
the Queen's Lieutenant in the province ; and on the twenty-
ninth of October, 1562, landed at Havre, with three thou-
sand soldiers, and was with much ceremony sworn into
his office.

In this command, the only arduous public service in which
we find him, his conduct, equally distinguished by fidelity,
prudence, and courage, amply proved his ability for the most
important military undertakings. The effects of his vigilance
and activity were felt in every part of Normandy, from
whence, by the aid of repeated excursions from his strong-
hold, he had enabled the Protestants almost wholly to expel
their enemies, when he found himself suddenly abandoned
by them, and discovered that they had treacherously agreed
on certain terms with the Leaguers, and even engaged them-
selves to turn their arms against him. He now shut himself
up in his garrison, having previously dismissed the French of
both persuasions, and was presently invested by a powerful
army, under the command of the Constable de Montmorency.
Terrible hardships and calamities ensued. The spring and
summer passed almost without rain ; the French cut the
aqueducts which supplied the town ; and the soldiers were
obliged to boil their miserable sustenance in sea- water, which
was frequently too their only beverage. An epidemic dis-
temper, which carried off great numbers, succeeded. At
length Warwick, after having sustained with uncommon
perseverance a siege not less obstinate than his defence, sur-
rendered in the autumn of 1563, but not till he had received
the Queen's especial command, and effected a most honour-
able capitulation. During the treaty, having appeared without
his armour on the ramparts to speak to a distinguished
French officer, a villain fired at him from beneath, and
wounded him in the leg with a poisoned bullet, a mis-
fortune the consequences of which during the remainder of
his life probably rendered retirement almost necessary to
him, and prevented his accepting favours and distinctions
which he seems so well to have merited. He was elected a

208 AMBROSE DUDLEY,

Knight of the Garter in 1562, and invested at Havre with the
ensigns of the Order.

In 1568 he was appointed one of the commissioners for
the inquiry into the great matter of the Queen of Scots, on
her arrival in England ; in 1569, on the occasion of the
rebellion of the Earls of Northumberland and Westmoreland,
himself and the Lord Clinton were appointed, jointly and
severally, the Queen's Lieutenants in the north, and the
suppression of it was chiefly owing to his care and vigilance ;
and in the succeeding year Elizabeth conferred on him the
dignified office, or rather title, of Chief Butler of England.
In 1570 he was sworn of the Privy Council, and included
in the number of Peers appointed by the royal commission
for the trial of the Duke of Norfolk ; and this, with the
exception of his having been similarly employed on the trial,
as it was called, of the Queen of Scots, is the last notice to
be found of his interference in any matter of the State.
After the conclusion of the sitting, Mary addressed herself to
him as to one for whom she felt a regard, and in whom she
placed some confidence. Of Elizabeth's esteem for him, or
of her inclination at least to persuade him how highly she
esteemed him, a fair judgment may be formed from the
following postscript, in her own handwriting to a letter
from her Privy Council, written to him during the siege of
Havre.

"My dear Warwick,

" If your honour and my desire could accord with
the loss of the needfullest finger I keep, God so help me in
my utmost need as I would gladly lose that one joint for
your safe abode with me ; but since I cannot that I would, I
will do that I may ; and will rather drink in an ashen cup,
than you or your's should not be succoured both by sea and
land, yea, and that with all speed possible ; and let this my
scribbling hand witness it unto them all.

" Yours, as my own,

" E. R."

EARL OF WARWICK. 20J)

Warwick is said to have understood and patronised the
commercial and manufacturing interests of his country.
Certain it is that he was much engaged in a design projected
by some London merchants for opening the trade to Barbary,
which at length proved unsuccessful ; and that in 1585 he
obtained from the Queen an exclusive license for two years
for the exporting woollen cloths thither by some of them wrho
had suffered the heaviest losses ; but no farther inference can
be drawn from those circumstances than that he himself was
a party in their speculations, a condescension by no means
rare among the nobility towards the conclusion of the reign
of Elizabeth. Of the fact that he was a person of most
unblemished conduct both in public and private life, there
can be no possible doubt. His character stands wholly
unimpeached : even in that volume of virulent censure on
the rest of his family, known by the title of " Leicester's
Commonwealth," his name is never mentioned disrespect-
fully : in the few notices of him with which history furnishes
us it is always accompanied by praise, and his popular appel-
lation was " the good Earl of Warwick." Towards the
conclusion of his life the misery of the incurable wound
which he had received at Havre gradually increased, and at
length became intolerable, and threatened mortification. In
an unsigned letter to George, sixth Earl of Shrewsbury, of
the fourth of February, 1589-90, the writer says—" My Lo.
of Warwick is like to go. His offices are already nere
bestowed. Grafton" (doubtless the royal honour of Grafton
which we are not elsewhere informed was held by him)
" upon the Lo. Chancellor ; Butlerage, upon the Lo. of
Buckehurst ; for the M'.ship of the Ordynaunce my Lorde
Graye and Sir John Parratt stryve." Mr. Thomas Markham,
in a detail of court news to the same nobleman of the seven-
teenth of that month writes — " On Wednesdaye was sennight,
as I am suer your L. hath hard, my Lord of Warwyk had
his leg cutt off, since which tyme he hath amendid, but not
so faste as I wolld wyshe." On the twentieth he expired at

II. V

210 AMBROSE DUDLEY, EARL OF WARWICK.

the house of his brother-in-law, the Earl of Bedford, in
Bloomsbury, and was buried at Warwick, where a curious
altar tomb was erected to his memory by his widow.

This nobleman was thrice married ; first to Anne, daughter
and heir of William Whorwood, Attorney General in the
reign of Henry the Eighth, by whom he had his only child,
John, who died an infant before 1552. His second lady was
Elizabeth daughter of Sir Gilbert Talboys, and sister and sole
heir to George, last Lord Talboys. He married, thirdly,
Anne, daughter of Francis Russel, Earl of Bedford.

SDR

SIR FRANCIS WALSINGHAM.

THE life of Walsingham, reputed one of the first states-
men of his time, affords but scanty materials to the bio-
grapher. Continually devoted, from an early age, to public
affairs, the character of the man was almost absorbed in that
of the minister ; while, on the other hand, the mysterious
secrecy with which he moved, invisibly as it were, in the
service of the State, conceals from us most of the particulars
of that great agency which we know he exercised. It may
be fairly said of him, without either compliment or insult to
his memory, that he was an illustrious spy ; but it must be
added, that he is said to have been in private life an honest
and kind-hearted man. He certainly was a wise and faithful
public servant.

He descended from a very ancient and respectable family
in Norfolk, said to have derived its surname from the town
of Walsingham, a junior branch of which migrated into Kent
about the time of Henry the Sixth, and was the third and
youngest son of William Walsingham, of Scadbury, in the
parish of Chislehurst, by Joyce, daughter of Edmund Denny,
of Cheshunt, in Hertfordshire. He was bred in his father's
house, under a private tutor, and afterwards studied for a
time in King's College, in Cambridge, from whence he went,
very young, to seek a more enlarged education on the con-
tinent. The persecution raised by Mary induced him to
remain abroad till her death, for his family were zealous
Protestants, and he was earnestly attached to that persuasion.
p2

212 SIH FRANCIS WALSIXOHAM.

He had thus abundant leisure for the employment of a most
acute mind, naturally, if it may be so said, directed to the
observation of the characters of nations and of individuals, of
courts and of councils, of manners, customs, and political
systems. He returned therefore, soon after the accession of
Elizabeth, a self-made statesman, with the additional advan-
tage of a perfect knowledge of most of the European lan-
guages, for he had always the reputation of being the first
linguist of his time. Thus qualified, he fell in the way of
Secretary Cecil, afterwards the celebrated Lord Burghley,
who, presently discerning the true character of his talents,
retained him with eagerness, and made him, almost imme-
diately, a principal agent in such affairs as peculiarly required
activity and secrecy. Thus the management of Elizabeth's
concerns at the court of France was implicitly committed to
his charge, at a time when they required the most refined
diplomatic skill ; while a dreadful civil war was raging in
that country, and its Cabinet distinguished by a policy equally
acute and perfidious.

Having remained there many years, he returned, for a
short time, to aid the deliberations of Elizabeth's ministers
on the great question of the French marriage, to which he
seems to have been then really inclined ; and in August,
1570, was sent again to Paris, professedly to negotiate on
that subject, but, in fact, rather to agitate others of the
highest importance. A very fine collection of his despatches
during that mission fell into the hands of Sir Dudley Digges,
and were published in 1655, under the title of " The Com-
pleat Ambassador." Those letters exhibit the perhaps un-
paralleled combination in one and the same mind of the
most enlarged understanding and the minutest cunning.
Such were his wisdom and his address, that he contrived,
while he treated of a proposal which might seein to have no
chance of success but in mutual good faith, and perfect
amity, to embarrass Charles the Ninth to the utmost by
fomenting the insurrection of the Huguenots ; to thwart the

SIR FUAXCIS WALSINGHAM. 213

great designs of the House of Austria, by laying the founda-
tion of the war in the Low Countries ; and, after having
passed three years in the prosecution of these opposite
plans, to leave an honourable character behind him in a
court whose favourite interests he had constantly and suc-
cessfully endeavoured to injure. He returned in April,
1573, and was received by Elizabeth with the highest giace
and approbation.

Very shortly after his arrival, he was nominated one of
the principal Secretaries of State. Gilbert Lord Talbot
writes to his father, George, Earl of Shrewsbury, on the
eleventh of May, 1573, " Mr. Walsingham is this day come
hither to the Courte : it is thought he shall be made Secre-
tary : Sir Thomas Smythe and he, both together, shall
exercise that office." They were accordingly appointed ;
but the superintendence of all matters of extraordinary
delicacy and secrecy in their department was committed to
Walsingham alone, and he seems to have referred them all
to one principle of management. Espionnage, to use a word
which is now almost English, and for which our language
affords no synonyme, had been reduced by him to a system
of precise regularity. Lloyd, making a nice distinction,
states the number of persons employed by him in foreign
courts to have been fifty-three agents, and eighteen spies.
" He had the wonderful art," says the author of the Life of
Lord Bolingbroke, almost copying after the same Lloyd
without acknowledging the obligation, " of weaving plots in
which busy people were so entangled that they could never
escape ; but were sometimes spared upon submission, some-
times hanged for examples." Lloyd, again, tells us that he
would " cherish a plot for some years together ; admitting
the conspirators to his and the Queen's presence familiarly,
but dogging them out watchfully;" and that "his spies
waited on some men eveiy hour for three years."

In 1578, he was sent for a short time, accompanied by
Lord Cobham, to the Netherlands, to treat, with little sin-

214 SIR FRANCIS WALSINGHAM.

cerity, of a peace between the new republic and the King of
Spain ; and in 1581 was again appointed ambassador to the
court of France. The Duke of Anjou, since the accession of
his brother, Henry the Third, had renewed with earnestness
his solicitations for the hand of Elizabeth, who, on her part,
from a policy which has never been clearly understood, or
from a caprice yet more unaccountable, had met his advances
with a warmth and freedom ill suited to the dignity of an
independent Queen, or to the prudence of a woman at the
age of forty-five. The Duke had been thus tempted to visit
her court, in the declared character of a lover ; had been
received by her with unbecoming tokens of affection ; and
soon after repelled with coldness and disdain. The professed
object of Walsingham's mission was to negotiate, previously
to the proposed marriage, an offensive and defensive league,
but the real view was either to reconcile those contrarieties,
or to involve them in deeper mystery. He was despatched,
in 1583, on an embassy, equally faithless, to the young King
of Scotland, afterwards our James the First. Sir James
Melvil, a plain honest man, who was naturally prejudiced in
Walsingham's favour, as well because they had been ac-
quainted, and had travelled together, in their youth, as that
one part of the Secretary's instructions was to detach the
King from a party which Melvil disliked, gives a large and
remarkable account in his Memoirs of this minister's inter-
course with James. " His Majesty," says Melvil, " appointed
four of the Council, and himself, to reason with Sir Francis,
and to sound what he would be at ; but he refused to deal
with any but with his Majesty, who heard him again." He
flattered James's vanity with the highest praise of his wis-
dom and erudition, and fully persuaded Melvil that he had
visited Scotland writh the purest intention of serving that
Prince. " The King marvelled," concludes Sir James, " that
the Chief Secretary of England, burthened with so many
great affairs, sickly, and aged, should have enterprized so
painful a voyage without any purpose ; for it could not be

SIR FRANCIS WALSINGHAM 215

perceived what was his errand, save only that he gave his
Majesty good counsel." It is not surprising that even Wal-
singham should have failed to accomplish the object of this
embassy, inasmuch as he had to contend, not with politics,
but with passions. His secret instructions doubtless had
been to detach James from his favourite, the Earl of Arran ;
and to place him again in the hands of the very noblemen
who had just before held him in a degrading captivity,
and even threatened his life, in that mysterious outrage dis-
tinguished in Scottish history by the name of the " Raid of
Ruthven," Elizabeth's participation in which was more than
suspected.

He returned, from thus attempting to cajole the son, to
take a frightful share in the odious measures of Elizabeth
against the mother. Patriotism and loyalty, however enthu-
siastic, could furnish no apology for the fraud and treachery
with which he surrounded the unhappy Mary in her prison.
The exquisite refinement, and endless variety, of his designs
to entrap her, savoured more of a natural taste for deception
than of zeal for the public service. He seems indeed in
many instances to have purposely delayed the fruition of his
artifices, for the mere delight of changing or repeating them.
In the remarkable case of what is usually called " Babington's
Conspiracy," Ballard, a priest, who was the original mover
of the design, was continually attended, from the very dawn
of it, by Maude, one of Walsingham's spies. Maude first
affected to aid him in England ; then passed over with him
into France, to tamper with the Spanish Ambassador, and
others, and returned with him ; assisted largely in debauching
Babington, and several other young men of good families, and
in constructing the whole machinery of the plot, in constant
intelligence always with his master. In the meantime,
another, named Giffard, insinuated himself into the society
of some who were in the confidence of the Queen of Scots,
and undertook to manage a correspondence between her and
the conspirators, in which every letter written by her, as

21G SIR FRANCIS WALSINGHAM.

well as their answers, were delivered first to Walsingham,
by whom they were opened, deciphered, copied, re-sealed,
and forged, additions occasionally made to them, and then
despatched to their several destinations. Walsingham at
length condescended to become intimate with Babington,
purposely to prostitute his own personal agency in this base
tragedy ; and, having occupied himself for six months in
drawing his net every hour nearer and nearer to the unsus-
pecting victims, was at last compelled to close it over them
by positive orders from Elizabeth, dictated by her fears.
" Thus far," says Camden, who gives a most interesting and
circumstantial detail of the whole, " had Walsingham spun
the thread alone, without acquainting the rest of the Queen's
Council ; and longer would he have drawn it, but the Queen
would not suffer it, lest, as she said herself, by not heeding
and preventing the danger while she might, she might seem
rather to tempt God than to trust in God."

But a charge of a blacker nature rests hearily on the
memory of Walsingham. In a long letter in the Harleian
Collection, addressed by him and his co-secretary, Davison,
within the period of which I have just now spoken, to Sir
Amias Powlett, and Sir Drue Drury, by whom Mary was
then held in close custody, are these terrific passages — " We
find by speech lately uttered by her Majesty, that she doth note
in you both a lack of that care and zeal for her service that
she looketh for at your hands, in that you have not in all
this time, of yourselves, without other provocation, found out
some way to shorten the ****** that Queen,
considering the great peril she is hourly subject to so long
as the said Queen shall live ; wherein, besides a kind of lack
of love to her, she noteth greatly that you have not that care
of your own particular safeties, or rather of the preservation
of religion, and the public good and prosperity of your
country, that reason and policy commandeth ; especially
having so good a warrant and ground for the satisfaction of
your consciences towards God, and the discharge of your

SIR FRANCIS WAL3INGIIAM. 217

credit and reputation towards the world, as the oath of the
association, which you both have so solemnly taken and vowed ;
especially the matter wherewith she standeth charged being
so clearly and manifestly proved against her. And therefore
she taketh it most unkindly that men professing that love
towards her that you do, should in a kind of sort, for lack
of the discharge of your duty, cast the burthen upon her,
knowing, as you do, her indisposition to shed blood, espe-
cially of one of that sex and quality, and so near to her in
blood as the said Queen is. These respects we find do
greatly trouble her Majesty, who we assure you hath sundry
times protested that, if the regard of the danger of her good
subjects, and faithful servants, did not more move her than
her own peril, she would never be drawn to assent to the
shedding of her blood, &c."

Great pains have been taken to discredit the authenticity
of this letter, but it is difficult to conceive with what view
such a document could have been forged ; for the character of
Elizabeth, who so soon after publicly stained herself with the
blood of that miserable Princess, could scarcely have suffered
further deterioration by such a charge. Besides, were it
proper to argue the point in this place, evidence nearly posi-
tive might be produced that Elizabeth had at other times
given private orders that she should be put to death, in the
event of the occurrence of certain circumstances ; but we
have here no business with the letter, except as an additional
proof of Walsingham's habitual abandonment of every prin-
ciple of justice, humanity, and honour, to the will of a
sanguinary tyrant. Mary, on her trial, challenged him as
her bitterest and most treacherous enemy. Camden informs
us that she said, alluding to the charges against her with
regard to Babington's plot, " that it was an easy thing to
counterfeit the ciphers and characters of others, as a young
man did very lately in France, who gave himself out to be
her son's base brother ; and that she was afraid this was done
by Walsingham, to bring her to her end ; who, as she had
heard, had practised both against her life, and her son's."

£18 SIR FRANCIS WALSIXGIIAM.

The detail of Walsingham's secret machinations would fill
a volume. Perhaps the most remarkable was that by which
he managed for a considerable time to prevent the fitting out
of that famous expedition called the Spanish Armada. He
had obtained intelligence from Madrid that Philip had
informed his ministers that he had written to Rome, to dis-
close to the Pope the secret object of his great preparations
by sea and land, and to beg his Holiness's blessing on the
enterprise ; and that he should conceal his views from them
till the return of the courier. Walsingham, so far informed,
employed a Venetian priest, one of his resident spies at Rome,
to gain a copy of the King of Spain's letter. The priest
corrupted a gentleman of the Pope's bedchamber, who took
the key of his Holiness's cabinet out of his pocket while he
slept ; transcribed the letter ; and returned the key. Hence
Walsingham discovered that Philip had negotiated to raise
the money to equip his fleet by bills on Genoa ; and he con-
trived, through the aid of Sutton, the famous founder of the
Charter-House, as it is said, and other eminent English mer-
chants at Genoa, that nearly all those bills should be protested,
and by that artifice impeded the sailing of the fleet for more
than twelve months.

Walsingham, like several others of Elizabeth's most faithful
servants, received few solid marks of her favour. He never
held any public office, in addition to his laborious and unpro-
fitable Secretaryship, except that of Chancellor of the Duchy
of Lancaster, which was not conferred on him till about 1587,
late in his life, and he afterwards obtained the Order of the
Garter. He lived and died miserably poor ; for, such was
his zeal, and such his mistress's baseness, that he lavished
great sums from his own purse on the public service, and was
never repaid. Camden says, that " he watched the practices
of the papists with so great an expense that he lessened his
estate by that means, and brought himself so far in debt that
he was buried privately, by night, in St. Paul's Church)
without any manner of funeral ceremony." This is truly
stated, for in this will I find his passage — " I desire that my

SIR FRANCIS WALSINGHAM. 219

body may be buried without any sucli extraordinary ceremo-
nies as usually appertain to a man serving in my place, in
respect of the greatness of my debts, and the mean state I
shall leave my wife and heir in ; charging both my executor
and overseers, to see this duly accomplished, according to the
special trust and confidence I repose in them." He bequeaths
to that heir, his only surviving child, no more than an
annuity of one hundred pounds, and orders his "lands in
Lincolnshire " to be sold for the payment of his debts. He
died on the sixth of April, 1590, of a local complaint, not
understood by the surgeons of that day ; or rather, as Cam-
den with much probability tells us, by the violence of the
medicines which were administered to him ; having been
twice married ; first, to Anne, daughter of Sir George
Barnes, an Alderman of London, who died childless ;
secondly, to Ursula, daughter of Henry St. Barbe, of Somer-
setshire, and widow of Richard Worsley, who brought him
two daughters, Frances and Mary, the latter of whom died
unmarried in June, 1580. Frances was thrice splendidly
wedded : first, to the memorable Sir Philip Sidney ; secondly,
to Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex ; and, thirdly, to Richard
de Burgh, Earl of Clanricarde ; by each of whom she left

Sir Francis Walsingham founded a Divinity Lecture at
Oxford, and acknowledged his affection to King's College in
Cambridge, by bestowing on it a library. A book, which
appeared not long after his death, and which has frequently
been reprinted, intituled " Arcana Aulica, or Walsingham's
Manual of Prudential Maxims," has usually been reputed
the work of his pen ; but was more probably a compilation
by some confidential person about him.

3H1R CHRISTOPH

SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON.

WK know but enough of this gentleman's history to make
wish for more. His elevation to the first place in the
cabinet, and to the supreme seat in the administration of
justice, coupled with the fantastic singularity of the incon-
gruous and unconnected steps by which he ascended, throw
about his legend an air of romance, while our utter ignorance
of the motives which induced Elizabeth thus greatly and
strangely to distinguish him, involve it in suitable mystery.
It is scarcely less extraordinary that these circumstances
should not have excited the curiosity of the historians and
pamphleteers of the succeeding century, or, if they did inquire
into them, that they should have withheld from us the fruit
>f their researches, recording only the silly and incredible
tale that he danced himself into his preferments. This
remarkable silence on a point of history so likely to provoke
discussion, induces a suspicion that it arose from fear, or pru-
dence, or delicacy. Hatton was one of the handsomest and
most accomplished men of his time, and the conduct of
Elizabeth had already betrayed, in more than one instance,
the extravagances into which personal predilections, of a
nature not easy to be defined, were capable of leading her.
These are facts of such notoriety, that the supposition of an
additional instance of similar weakness will not be deemed a
libel on the memory of the virgin Queen. That Hatton was
an object of this anomalous partiality seems highly probable,
and, had his character been marked by the ambition of

222 SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON.

Leicester, or the rashness of Essex, the ground of his good
fortune would perhaps have been not less evident than theirs.

He descended from a junior line of the very ancient house
of Hatton of Hatton in Cheshire, which migrated into North-
amptonshire, and was the third and youngest son of William
Hatton of Holdenby, by Alice, daughter of Laurence Saunders,
of Horringworth, both in that county. He was born in 1539,
or in the succeeding year, and, after having been carefully
instructed in his father's house, was entered a gentleman
commoner of St. Mary Hall, in Oxford, where he probably
remained not long, as he quitted the university without having
taken a degree, and enrolled himself in the society of the
Inner Temple. It has been said that he was placed there
not to study the law with a view of qualifying himself for
the profession, but to give him the advantages of a familiar
intercourse with men who joined to deep learning an ex-
tensive knowledge of the world and of the arts of social
prudence. This report was probably invented for the sake
of increasing the wonder excited by his final promotion ;
though thus much is certain, that we hear nothing of his
practice in any of the courts, nor indeed have we any direct
intelligence that he was ever called to the bar. It is amply
recorded, however, that he joined at least in the sports of his
fellow students, for it was at one of those romantic enter-
tainments which at that time the Inns of Court frequently
presented to royalty, that he first attracted the notice of the
Queen. " Sir Christopher Hatton," as Naunton somewhat
obscurely says, " came into the court as Sir John Perrott's
opposite ; as Perrott was used to say, ' by the galliard,' for
for he came thither as a private gentleman of the Inns of
Court, in a masque ; and, for his activity and person, which
was tall and proportionable, taken into her favour." Honest
Camden, with more plainness, tells us that, i: being young,
and of a comely tallness of body, and amiable countenance,
he got into such favour with the Queen," &c.

He was presently admitted into her band of gentlemen

SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON. 223

pensioners, at that time composed of fifty young men of the
best families in the kingdom, and was soon after placed
among the gentlemen of her privy chamber ; then ap-
pointed captain of her body-guard, and vice-chamber-
lain of her household, about the time of his promotion to
which latter office he was knighted, and sworn of the privy
council. In 1586 Elizabeth granted to him and his heirs the
Island of Purbeck, in Dorsetshire, and in the same year
named him as one of her commissioners for the trial, or
rather for the conviction, of the Queen of Scots. It is said
that Mary was persuaded chiefly by his reasoning to submit
to their jurisdiction, and Camden has preserved the speech
which for that purpose he addressed to her, and which
exhibits little either of eloquence or argument. " You are
accused," he said, " but not condemned, to have conspired
the destruction of our lady and Queen anointed. You say
you are a Queen : be it so ; however in such a crime as this
the royal dignity itself is not exempted from answering,
either by the civil or canon law, nor by the law of nations
nor of nature ; for if such kind of offences might be com-
mitted without punishment, all justice would stagger, yea
fall to the ground. If you be innocent you wrong your repu-
tation in avoiding trial. You protest yourself to be innocent,
but Queen Elizabeth thinketh otherwise, and that not with-
out ground, and is heartily sorry for the same. To examine
therefore your innocency, she hath appointed commissioners,
honourable persons, prudent and upright men, who are ready
to hear you according to equity, with favour, and will rejoice
with all their hearts if you shall clear yourself of what you
are charged with. Believe me, the Queen herself will be
transported with joy, who affirmed to me, at my coming from
her, that never anything befel her that troubled her more
than that you should be charged with such misdemeanours.
Wherefore lay aside the bootless claim of privilege from your
royal dignity, which now can be of no use unto you ; appear
to your trial, and shew your innocency ; lest by avoiding

224 SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON.

trial you draw upon yourself a suspicion, and stain your
reputation with an eternal blot and aspersion."

On the twenty-third of April, 1587, to the astonishment
of the country, he was appointed Lord High Chancellor,
unluckily succeeding in that great office Bromley, a lawyer
of the highest fame ; and on the twenty-third of May, in the
succeeding year, as though to crown properly the heteroge-
neous graces which had been already bestowed on him, was
installed a Knight of the Garter. Camden, the only writer
who has affected to account for his appointment to the
Great Seal, informs us, rather improbably, that " he was
advanced to it by the Court arts of some, that by his absence
from Court, and the troublesome discharge of so great a
place, which they thought him not to be able to undergo,
his favour with the Queen might flag and grow less." He
was received, naturally enough, in the Chancery Court with
cold and silent disdain, and it is even said that the barristers
for a time declined to plead before him ; but the sweetness
of his temper, and the general urbanity of his manners, soon
overcame those difficulties, while the earnestness and honesty
with which he evidently applied the whole force of a power-
ful mind to qualify himself for his high office, gradually
attracted to him the esteem of the public. " He executed,"
says the historian just now quoted, " the place with the
greatest state and splendour of any that we ever saw, and
what he wanted in knowledge of the law he laboured to make
good by equity and justice." He is said to have introduced
several good rules into the practice of his court, and to have
at length acquired, by the wisdom of his decrees, and by the
moderation, impartiality, and independence of his conduct
on the bench, an eminent share of popularity. Anthony
Wood asserts that he composed several pieces on legal sub-
jects, none of which however are extant, except one, which
has been plausibly attributed to him, intituled " A Treatise
concerning Statutes, or Acts of Parliament, and the Expo-
sition thereof," which was not printed till 1677.

SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON. 225

Sir Robert Naunton, again with some obscurity, thus con-
cludes the very short notices which he has left us of Hatton.
" He was a gentleman that, besides the graces of his person
and dancing, had also the adjectaments of a strong and subtle
capacity : one that could soon learn the discipline and garb
both of the times and court. The truth is, he had a large
proportion of gifts and endowments, but too much of the
season of envy, and he was a mere vegetable of the court,
that sprung up at night, and sunk again at his noon." Does
Naunton mean that Hatton was envious, or that he was the
object of envy in others 1

With relation to one, of the character of whose mind, and
of the extent of whose talents and accomplishments so little
has been handed down to us, it is fortunate to be able to form
some opinion from the familiar effusions of his own pen. In
the great treasure of epistolary remains of the eminent men
of his time, Hatton's letters are of rarest occurrence. No
apology then will be necessary for illustrating this unavoid-
ably imperfect sketch with two of them ; the one, without
date, to Elizabeth, from a rough draft in the Harleian MSS.,
and hitherto unpublished ; the other, now reprinted from the
Cecil Papers, to the gallant and unfortunate Robert Devereux,
Earl of Essex. The first is indorsed—" Sr. Chr. Hatton,
Vicechamberlaine to the Queene, upon some words of the
Queene, his protestacion of his owne innocence."

" If the woundes of the thought wear not most dangerous
of all wlhout speedy dressing I shold not now troble yor. Maly.
wlh. the lynes of my co'playnt ; and if whatsoever came from
you wear not ether very gracious or greevous to me what you
sayd wold not synke so deepely in my bosome. My pro-
fession hath been, is, and ever shalbe, to your Maty. all duty
w"'in order, all reverent love wthout mesure, & all trothe
wrtlout blame ; insomuch as when I shall not not be fownde
soche as to yor. Highness Caesar sought to have hys wife to

II. Q

226 SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON.

himselfe, not onely w^out synne, but also not to be suspected,
1 wish my spright devyded from my body as his spowse was
from his bedde ; and therfore, upon yesternight's wordes, I
am driven to say to yor. Ma'y. ether to satisfye wronge con-
ceyts, or to answer false reports, that if the speech you used
of yor. Turke did ever passe my penne or lippes to any crea-
ture owt of yor. Highnes' hearing, but to my L. of Burghley,
w*. whom I have talked bothe of the man & the matter, I
desyre no lesse condemnation than as a traytor, & no more
pardon than hys ponyshment ; and, further, if ever I ether
spake or sent to the embassad. of France, Spayne, or Scot-
land, or have accompanied, to my knowledge, any that con-
ferres wtk. them, I doe renownce all good from yor. Mav. in
erthe, & all grace from God in heaven ; wch. assurans if yor.
H. thinke not sufficyent, upon the knees of my harte I
hu*bly crave at yo'. Ma'T'§. handes, not so much for my satis-
faction as yor own suerty, make the perfitest triall heareof ;
for if upon soch occasions it shall please yo'. Maty. to syfte
the chaffe from the wheate, the come of yor. co'monwealth
wolde be more pure, & myxt graines wolde lesse infect the
synnowes of yo1. suerty, wch. God most strengthen, to yor.
Ma**1', best & longest preservation."

His letter to Essex, then commanding the English troops
at the siege of Rouen, in which his brother, Walter, had
lately fallen, forms a striking contrast to the bombastic piece
which, in conformity to her own taste, he addressed to the
.Queen, and may perhaps be justly considered as an example
of the best epistolary composition of the time.

" My very good Lord,

" Next after my thankes for yor. honorable 1™., I will
assure yo'. Lop. that, for my part, I have not failed to use the
best endeavors I cold for the effecting of yo1. desire in
remaininge ther for some longer tyme, but wthall I must ad-

SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON. 227

vertise you that her Ma*7, hath been drawen thereunto wlh.
exceeding hardenes, & the chefe reason that maketh her
sticke in it is for that she doubteth yo'. Lop. doth not suf-
ficiently consider the dishonor that ariseth unto her by the
King's ether dalliance or want of regard, having not used
the forces sent so friendly to his aid from so great a Prince,
and under the conduct of so great a personage, in some em-
ployment of more importance all this while : wherefore, by
her Maty>i. co'mandement, and also for the unfaigned good
wyll I bear yor. Lp., I am very earnestly to advise you that
you have gret care for the accomplishement of her Highnes
instrucc'ons effectually, and according to her intenc'ons, in
those thinges wherin you are to deale wth. the Kinge."

" Further my good Lord, lett me be bolde to warne you of
a matter that many of yor. frendes here gretely feare, namely,
that the late accident of yor. noble brother, who hathe so
valiantly & honorably spent his lyfe in his Prince't: & coun-
trey's service, draw you not, through griefe or passion, to
hasard yo'selfe over venturously. Yo'. Lop. best knoweth
that true valour consisteth rather in constant performinge of
that wch. hathe been advisedly forethought than in aptnes or
readines of thrusting yo'. p'son indifferently into every
daunger. You have many waies, & many tymes, made suf-
ficient proof of yo'. valientnes : No man doubteth but that
you have enough, if you have not overmuche : and therfore,
both in regard of the services her Ma'T. expecteth to receve
from you, and in respect of the greife that would growe to
the whole realme by the losse of one of that honorable birth,
& that worthe w*. is sufficiently knowen (as greater hathe not
beene for any that hathe beene borne therm these many &
many yeeres) I must, even before Almighty God, praye &
require yo' Lop. to have that cercumspectnes of yo'selfe W1'-
is fitt for a generall of yo'. sorte. Lastly my Lo., I hope you
doubt not of the good disposic'ons I bear towards yo'. Lop.,
nor that out of the same ther ariseth & remaineth in me a
Q2

oo» SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON.

desire to doe yor. Lop. all the service that shalbe in my pore
abilitie to p'forme, & therfore I shall not neede to spende
many wordes in that behalf ; but, wth. my earnest prayers for yor.
good succes in all yor. honorable actions, &, after, for yor.
safe returne, to the comfort of yo'. frendes & wellwillers
here, I leave yor. Lop. to God's most holy and m'cifull pro-
tecc'on. From London, the 5th of October, 1591.
" Yor. good Lpl§ most assured and true frende,

" CHB. HATTON."

The faithful historian, already so frequently quoted, records
that " he was a man of a pious nature, and of opinion that in
matters of religion neither fire nor sword was to be used ; a
great reliever of the poor ; and of singular bounty and muni-
ficence to students and learned men, for which reason those
of Oxford chose him Chancellor of their University." He
succeeded the favourite Leicester in that dignified office in
September, 1588. He is said in his earlier days to have
sacrificed occasionally to the Muse, of which, however, no
proof is extant, except in the tragedy of " Tancred and Ghis-
munda," which was the joint production of five students of the
Inner Temple ; was acted by some members of that Society
before the Queen in 1568 ; and printed in 1592. To the
fourth act is subscribed " Composuit Chr. Hatton."

His death, which happened on the twentieth of November,
1591, has been ascribed in great measure to the harshness
and suddenness with which Elizabeth demanded the instant
payment of a great sum in his hands, arising from the col-
lection of first fruits and tenths. " He had hopes," says
Camden, " in regard of the favour he was in with her, she
would have forgiven him ; but she could not, having once
cast him down with a harsh word, raise him up again, though
sho visited him, and endeavoured to comfort him." He was
buried in St. Paul's Cathedral, and having died a bachelor,
bequeathed his fortune to his nephew, Sir William Newport,

SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON.

of Harringham, in Warwickshire, with remainder to Chris-
topher, son and heir of John Hatton, his nearest kinsman of
the male line. Sir William Newport, who assumed the sur-
name of Hatton, died childless, and Christopher succeeded
accordingly ; his son and heir, of the same name, was created
in 1643 Baron Hatton, of Kirby, in Northamptonshire : and
the heir-male of that son in 1682 obtained the title of Vis-
count ; both which became extinct about 1770.

GAR DON A ft, ALLEINL

OB; 1594.

WILLIAM ALLEN,

CARDINAL.

THE face and the character of this remarkable person have
hitherto been almost equally unknown. While he lived,
and for several years after his death, to have possessed his
portrait might have been deemed misprision of treason, and
to have spoken favourably even of the slightest act of his life
would certainly have been considered as a high misdemeanour.
He was perhaps the most formidable enemy to the reformed
faith, and the ablest apologist for the Romish church, that
England ever produced ; for he was armed at all points, either
for attack or defence, and indefatigable in the prosecution of
each. He was generally learned, but in sacred and ecclesi-
astical history profoundly; and while he reasoned with equal
acuteness, boldness, and eloquence, used that urbanity of
expression, so uncommon in the polemics of his time, which
polishes, while it sharpens, the weapons of argument, and
disarms an adversary, at least of personal enmity. He exer-
cised in fact, though without the name, the office of vice-
gerent to the Pope for the affairs of his church in England ;
and in that character opposed, with a most honest zeal, the
progress of a system which the most part of Europe then con-
sidered as a frightful schism, and which was at that time
indebted for its support perhaps more to the vigilance and
severity of Elizabeth's government than to the affection of its
professors. But that system had already become firmly inter-
woven with the civil polity of England, and the most dan-

232 CARDINAL ALLEN.

gerous enemy to a state is he who would wound it through
the shield of its religious establishment. Elizabeth, there-
fore, would have acted but with strict justice had she put
Cardinal Allen to death, as she certainly would, could she
have got him into her power ; and he would have been, as
justly, canonized.

He descended from two respectable, and rather ancient
families, for he was the second son of John Allen, the elder
line of whose house had been long seated at Brockhouse, in
Staffordshire, by Jennet, daughter of a Lyster, of Westby, in
Yorkshire. He was born at Rossall, in the latter county,
about the year 1532, and became a student of Oriel College
in 1547, where he was so distinguished for his talents, and
for the rapidity and success of his studies, that he was within
three years afterwards unanimously elected a fellow of that
house ; and before he had reached the age of twenty-five,
was chosen Principal of St. Mary's Hall, and one of the
Proctors of the University. About 1558, he was appointed a
Canon of York, but was scarcely fixed there when the death
of Queen Mary blasted all his hopes of further preferment in
his own country. He continued, however, in England till
1560, when he retired to Lou vain, and fixed his residence for
a time in the famous theological college there, which, since
the accession of Elizabeth, had become the favourite place of
refuge for those of the English Catholic divines who had the
highest reputation for learning and zeal. But the passive
devotions of a mere pious asylum were ill suited to the dis-
position of one who seemed to exist but for the service of his
church : he returned, under the pretence of seeking relief in
his native air from a lingering illness, and setted in Lan-
cashire, where his endeavours to reclaim the wanderers from
his profession became soon so notorious that the magistrates
chased him from that county. He went then into Oxford-
shire, where he not only followed the same course, but pub-
lished treatises in the English language, which he had printed
at Lovain,— " In Defence of the lawful Power and Authority

CARDINAL ALLEX. 233

of the Priesthood to remit Sins ;" — " Of the Confession of
Sins to God's Ministers ; " and a third, intituled, " The
Church's Meaning concerning Indulgences commonly called
Popes' Pardons." Such a visitor could not long be permited
to remain near the University. He removed, doubtless under
compulsion, into the neighbourhood of Norwich, where he
dwelt chiefly in the house of the Duke of Norfolk, and,
having composed there a strenuous defence of his church,
under the title of " Certain brief Reasons concerning Ca-
tholic Faith," returned once more to Oxford, and boldly took
up his residence there. His attempts, though with unabated
zeal, were now more secretly practised. He ceased to publish
his opinions, and contented himself with endeavouring to
gain individual proselytes by the acuteness of his arguments,
and the charms of his conversation. An experiment of
that kind, in which he had fully succeeded, drew down on
him the vehement resentment of the relations of his convert,
who happened to be zealous reformers. They prosecuted
him with the utmost vengeance ; he found means to escape
from the consequences ; and quitted England, never again to
return.

He fled to Flanders, and, after having resided for some
time in a monastery in the city of Mechlin, removed about
156% to Douay, where an academy had been some years
before established, which had acquired considerable reputa-
tion. On that foundation he raised the college which after
many vicissitudes yet subsisted there in much fame at the
commencement of the accursed French revolution, when its
peaceful inmates were dispersed, and it became first a mili-
tary hospital, and, since, a manufactory. To this seminary,
which was declaredly devoted to the reception of learned
English Romanists who had fled their country for religion's
sake, he gave a regular collegiate form, and procured from
the Pope a yearly stipend for its maintenance. He was now
appointed a Canon of the archiepiscopal church of Cambray,
and, soon after, of that of Rheims, in France, where he pre-
vailed on the great family of Guise to erect another college

234 CARDINAL ALLEN.

for the same purpose, to which he removed the members of
his house at Douay, during the distraction which for a time
agitated the Netherlands. He commenced also a similar
foundation at Rome, and two in Spain. All these were de-
voted to the education of English youth, and every sort of
learning was cultivated in them to the utmost perfection of
the time ; but the grand and secret object of the teachers was
to instruct their pupils in the religious and civil doctrines of
the church of Rome : to inspire them with the most zealous
and implicit veneration towards all its institutions; and
so to qualify them to become, when they should return
to their own country, the most effectual of all missionaries.

In spite of the personal application and activity which
these objects necessarily required, it should seem that his
pen too was almost incessantly employed, as well in a con-
tinual correspondence with his friends and abettors in Eng-
land, as in the composition of multifarious publications which
he disseminated throughout Europe with the utmost industry.
Elizabeth, who held her brother Sovereigns and their councils
in contempt, was awed by the talents, the perseverance, and,
perhaps most of all, by the sincerity of this man. He fought
against her, or, in other words, against that system of faith
of which she was then the life and soul, as well in the field
as in the closet ; for while he opposed himself, with exqui-
site power of argument, to her most eminent divines, and
used the sweetest persuasion to those whom he hoped to
convert, the Catholic soldiers and mariners of England, as
well as those of Spain, went into battle with treatises in
their hands which he had written for their use, and adapted
to their capacities. Thus he prevailed on Sir William
Stanley, and Rowland York, who commanded a body of
thirteen hundred men in the Low Countries, to surrender to
the Spaniards, in 1587, the strong fortress of Deventer, and
other places, with their garrisons ; and, immediately after,
printed a letter, intituled, " Epistola de Deventriae Ditione,"
together with a translation into English, in which he highly
commended their treachery, and incited others to imitate it.

CARDINAL ALLEN. 235

So, too, in the following year, upon the sailing of the Spanish
Armada, he published " A Declaration of the Sentence of
Sixtus the Fifth," by which that Pope had given plenary
indulgence and pardon of all sins, to those who would assist
in depriving Elizabeth of her kingdom ; to which was added
a supplement, most energetically conceived and written, with
the title of "An Admonition to the Nobility and People of
England." Elizabeth herself bore testimony to the weight
and importance of this book by dispatching a minister to the
Prince of Parma, Governor of the Low Countries for the
King of Spain, specially to expostulate with him on the pub-
lication of it.

For these eminent services to his church, he was at length,
on the twenty- eighth of July, 1587, created a Cardinal Priest,
and in 1589 consecrated Archbishop of Mechlin, to which
latter dignity the King of Spain added the gift of a rich
abbey in Naples. The utter failure of the great Spanish
naval expedition, on which the Roman Catholics had founded
such mighty hopes, seems to have broken his spirit. He
retired to Rome immediately after that event, " under
a great disappointment," says Camden, " and at length
tired out with the heats and dissensions of the English
fugitives, both scholars and gentlemen/' That historian,
zealous as he was for the reformed faith, and writing
under the influence almost naturally produced by his ser-
vitude to Elizabeth, speaks of Allen with less asperity than
might have been expected ; while Anthony Wood, more
independent, though perhaps not unjustly suspected of some
leaning to the Romish church, having very fairly stated the
invectives of several authors against him, adds — " Let writers
say what they please, certain it is that he was an active man,
and of great parts, and high prudence : that he was religious,
and zealous in his profession : restless till he had performed
what he had undertaken : that he was very affable, genteel,
and winning, and that his person was handsome and proper >
which, with an innate gravity, commanded respect from those
that came near, or had to do with him." His taste in lite-

236 CARDINAL ALLEN.

rary composition was admirable. Of his Latin little need be
said. The age in which he lived was ornamented by many
distinguished writers in that language, and it would have
been strange indeed had not such a man appeared in the
foremost rank : but his English style was incomparable. At
once dignified and simple ; clear and concise ; choice in
terms, without the slightest affectation ; and full of an impas-
sioned liveliness, which riveted the attention even to his
gravest disquisitions ; it stood then wholly unrivalled, and
would even now furnish no unworthy model. Such however
is the weakness, and it is almost blameless, of human pre-
judice, that the merits of the writer were condemned to
share in the abomination of his doctrines, and that an
example, which might have anticipated the gradual pro-
gress of nearly a century in the improvement of English
prose, was rejected because he who set it was a rebel and
a Papist.

Cardinal Allen wrote, in addition to the works already
mentioned, " A Defence of the Doctrine of Catholics con-
cerning Purgatory, 1565 ;" " An Apology, and true Declara-
tion, of the Institution and Endeavours of the two English
Colleges, in Rome and at Rheims, 1581 ; " " Apologia pro
Sacerdotibus Societatis Jesu, et Seminariorum Alumnisj
contra Edicta Regiee," which I have never seen, and of which
the book mentioned before it was probably a translation ;
" Concertatio EcclesiaeCatholicse ;" and " PiissimaAdmonitio
et Consolatio vere Christiana ad Afflictos Catholicos Anglise ;"
the three last named tracts printed in one volume, 1583 ;
and " A true, sincere, and modest Defence of the English
Catholics that suffer for their Faith both at home and abroad,
against a scandalous Libel intituled, the Execution of Justice
in England," without date, of which a translation into Latin
was published in 1584.

This very eminent person died at Rome on the 6th of
October, 1594, and was buried in the chapel of the English
College there.

SIR FRANCES OR/

OB; ,

SIR FRANCIS DRAKE.

THE narrative of a life for the materials of which no better
source could exist than the journal and log-book of a naval
commander, and in the absence, too, of those very authorities,
may seem to promise very little of general interest. Drake
was a seaman from his cradle, and applied to his profession
talents which might have rendered him eminent in any
character, with such undeviating perseverance, that we never
find him for an instant in another : yet so dear is that
character to Englishmen, that they will dwell with delight
on the insulated detail of his expeditions ; on discoveries
insignificant in the sight of modern navigators, and on tactics
which have become obsolete ; on motives which have long
ceased to actuate our national policy, and on results of the
benefit of which we are no longer sensible.

His birth, as might be expected, was mean. In a pedi-'
gree of the decendants of his brother Thomas, the inheritor
of his wealth, recorded in the Visitation of Devonshire made
in 1620, he is simply stated to have been a son of "Robert
Drake of that county," and the name even of his mother
does not appear. Camden, however, has left us some par-
ticulars of his origin, which, in spite of an anachronism or
two, that have not escaped the vigilance of antiquarian zeal,
may be depended on, especially as he informs us that they
were communicated to him by Drake himself. His father,
as we learn from this respectable authority, had embraced
the Protestant persuasion, and having been threatened with
prosecution under the terrible law of the Six Articles, fled

238 SIR FRANCIS DRAKE.

his country and wandered into Kent. " There," continues
Camden, " after the death of Henry the Eighth, he got a
place among the seamen in the King's navy, to read prayers
to them, and soon after he was ordained deacon, and made
vicar of the church of Upnor, upon the river Medway, where
the royal navy usually rides : but by reason of his poverty,
he put his son apprentice to the master of a bark, his neigh-
bour, who held him closely to his business, by which he
made him an able seaman, his bark being employed in coast-
ing along the shore, and sometimes in carrying merchandise
into Zealand and France. The youth, being painful and
diligent, so pleased the old man by his industry, that, being
a bachelor, at his death he bequeathed his bark unto him by
his last will." It is said, but with some uncertainty, that
he was born in the town of Tavistock, in 1545.

In his early manhood he became purser of a merchant ship
trading to Spain, and two years after made a voyage to
Guinea, probably in the same capacity. About this time he
attracted the notice of his countryman, and, as some have
reported, his kinsman, Sir John Hawkins, and was in 1567
appointed by that celebrated navigator captain of a ship
named the Judith, in which he accompanied Hawkins to
South America, and eminently distinguished himself in the
more glorious than fortunate exploits in the Gulf of Mexico,
which were the issue of that expedition. Drake lost in it
the whole of that little which he had saved in his more
humble employments, but he returned with a reputation
which presently attracted public attention, and with a know-
ledge of the wealth and an experience of the naval warfare
and resources of Spain in those parts, which enabled him to
form the most promising plans for his future prosperity.
He determined to invite the resolute, the needy, and the
avaricious, to join him in an expedition thither, and repre-
sented to them, with a power of persuasion with which he
is said to have been eminently gifted, the vast acquisitions
that might be expected, and the clear probability of success.

SIR FRANCIS DRAKE. 2.39

The bait was taken with an eagerness at least equal to his
hopes, and in 1570, and the following year, he made two
voyages, the former with two ships, the latter with one ;
and in these trips, though his private view in undertaking
them extended not beyond mere experiment, which he
could not have prosecuted without assistance, he managed
with such sagacity as to encourage those who had adventured
with him by an ample return ; to render himself inde-
pendent ; and to prevent in a great measure any suspicion
in the Spaniards of the extent of the designs which he
secretly meditated against them.

In 1573, however, they were somewhat disclosed. On
the twenty-fourth of March in that year, he sailed from
Plymouth, in a ship named the Pascha, accompanied by
another in which he had performed his two former voyages,
called the Swan, in which he placed one of his brothers,
John Drake. On board these vessels, which were of very
moderate burthen, he had no more than seventy- three men
and boys ; yet with this slender force he stormed, on the
twenty-second of the following July, the town of Nombre
de Dios, in the Isthmus of Darien, and soon after seized that
of Venta Cruz, where he obtained a considerable booty ;
but the most important result of these acquisitions was the
establishment of a friendly intercourse with some rulers of
the natives, by the aid of whose intelligence he intercepted
a convoy of plate, as it was the custom then to call it, of
such enormous bulk that he abandoned the silver from mere
inability to convey it, and brought only the gold to his ships.
It is needless to say that he returned with immense wealth ;
and the fidelity and exactness with which he allotted to his
partners their respective shares in his good fortune, contri-
buted equally with it to raise his fame. The people, in the
mean time, in their hatred to Spain, which Elizabeth used
every artifice to chafe, viewed the success of his piracies, for
they were nothing less, with rapture. Enriched himself,
beyond all the occasions of even splendid domestic life, he

240 SIR FRANCIS DRAKE.

now gave way to a laudable ambition to shine in public
service, and to recommend himself effectually to a court and
government in which much of the ancient love of warlike
gallantry yet subsisted, fitted out, at his own charge, three
frigates with which he sailed to Ireland, to serve as a volun-
teer against the rebels, in aid of the land forces under the
command of Walter, Earl of Essex. Stowe, without reciting
the particulars of his conduct, informs us that he performed
many glorious actions there. His stay, however, in Ireland
•was short, and on the premature death of that nobleman he
returned ; but the secret object of his excursion was fully
obtained, for he acquired, probably through the recommenda-
tion of the amiable Essex, the patronage of Sir Christopher
Hatton, by whom he was soon after introduced to Elizabeth.
Drake, in his last American voyage, had formed an im-
perfect outline of the enterprise which has immortalised his
name. " He had descried," says Camden, " from some
mountains the South Sea. Hereupon," continues the his-
torian, " the man being inflamed with ambition of glory,
and hopes of wealth, was so vehemently transported with
desire to navigate that sea, that, falling down upon his
knees, he implored the Divine assistance that he might at
some time or other sail thither, and make a perfect discovery
of the same ; and hereunto he bound himself with a vow.
From that time forward his mind was pricked continually to
perform that vow." He now besought and obtained the aid
and countenance of the Queen to his project for a voyage
thither, through the Straits of Magellan, an undertaking to
which no Englishman had ever yet aspired. On the fifteenth
of November, 1577, he sailed from Plymouth in a ship of
one hundred tons, called the Pelican, having under his com-
mand the Elizabeth, of eighty tons ; the Swan, of fifty ; the
Marygold, of thirty ; and the Christopher, of fifteen ; em-
barking in his little fleet no more than one hundred and
sixty-four men, amply supplied, however, with all necessary
provisions. He concealed from his comrades of all ranks

SIR, FRANCIS DRAKE. 241

the course that he intended to take, giving out that it was
for Alexandria ; and after having been forced by a severe
storm to return to the English coast to refit, quitted it finally
on the thirteenth of December.

Drake's celebrated voyage is so well known, that it would
be impertinent to give here any enlarged detail of it. On
the twentieth of August, having previously dismissed, for
what reason we are not clearly told, two of the vessels
which had accompanied him, he entered the Straits of Magel-
lan, where a terrible storm separated him from the others,
and he proceeded alone. On the twenty-fifth of September
he quitted the Straits, and sailed, still molested by tempest,
to the coast of Chili and Peru, which he skirted, attacking
the Spanish settlements, which were wholly defenceless,
and, having obtained immense spoil, prepared to return to
England. Apprehensive, however, of the vengeance of the
Spaniards, among whom the alarm was now fully spread, he
determined to avoid the track by which he had entered the
Pacific Ocean, and bent his course to the shores of North
America, seeking, with that spirit of enterprise which so
eminently distinguished him, a passage to Europe by the
north of California. Disappointed in this endeavour, he
sailed to the East Indies, and, returning to England by the
Cape of Good Hope, landed at Plymouth on the third of
November, 1580, the first of his countrymen by whom the
honour of circumnavigating the whole of the known world
had ever been enjoyed.

His arrival in London was hailed by the multitude with
the utmost extravagance of approbation, but among the cool
and discerning many were disposed to censure his conduct
with severity. The policy, as well as the legality, of con-
niving at the sort of warfare which he had used against the
Spaniards was freely questioned. His moral character was
arraigned ; and he was reported to have sacrificed to the pri-
vate vengeance of the Earl of Leicester one of his principal
officers, Doughty, whom he had charged with mutiny, and

242 SIR FRANCIS DRAKE.

caused to be put to death during his voyage. In the mean
time he was not without apologists of the better sort, who
alleged that his attacks on the Spanish colonies were clearly
justifiable under the laws of reprisal, and that Doughty, which
seems to have been the fact, was regularly tried and con-
demned by such a Court Martial as could be formed under
the circumstances ot the expedition. While these questions
were contending with increasing heat, Elizabeth suddenly
turned the balance in his favour, by the most unequivocal
and public marks of her grace. She visited him on board his
ship at Deptford ; partook of a splendid banquet which he
had provided ; and conferred on him the honour of knight-
hood, commanding, among many other compliments of the
most flattering nature, that the vessel in which he had achieved
the voyage should be carefully preserved, as a precious me-
morial of his merit, and of the glory of her realm.

These testimonies of approbation produced in Drake their
usual effect on generous and active minds — an ardent desire
to signalise himself by further exploits. The rank, however,
to which his fame and his immense wealth had now raised
him in society, forbade the further prosecution of that order
of enterprise from which he had derived them, and some years
elapsed before Elizabeth's determination to commence offen-
sive hostilities against Spain, enabled her to call his powers
into action in her immediate service. At length, in 1585, he
received for the first time a royal commission, and was
appointed to the command of twenty-one ships of war, with
which, having on board eleven thousand soldiers, he sailed
in the autumn to the West Indies, and, after having sacked
the towns of St. Jago and St. Domingo, passed to the coast
of Florida, when he took Carthagena, and destroyed several
other settlements of smaller importance. In 1587 he was
dispatched with four of the largest ships in the Queen's navy
to which the merchants of London added twenty-six vessels
of various burthens, to Spain, and in the Bay of Cadiz dispersed
and crippled a fleet which lay there, completely equipped,

SIR FRANCIS DRAKE. 243

under orders to proceed to Lisbon, the appointed rendezvous
for the grand Armada, destroying more than a hundred of
their store-ships, and several superior vessels. He then
returned to Cape St. Vincent, ravaging the coast in his way,
and at the mouth of the Tagus ineffectually challenged the
Marquis of Santa Cruz, the Spanish Admiral, to an engage-
ment. Having performed this splendid service, which obliged
Philip to defer for a whole year the execution of his great
project of invasion, Drake turned his attention for an interval
to his old friends the merchants, and using a discretion not
uncommon in those days of imperfect discipline, sailed to the
Azores, to intercept a carrack of immense value, of whose
coming from the East Indies he had received secret intelli-
gence, which he accomplished, and returned to his country
to receive new honours from his Sovereign, and increased
homage from her subjects. In the ever-memorable service
of the following year, Drake, whom Elizabeth had appointed
Vice-Admiral under Lord Howard of Effingham, had the
chief share. His sagacity, his activity, and his undaunted
courage, were equally conspicuous in the series of mighty
actions which composed it, and the terrible vengeance expe-
rienced by the dispersed and flying Armada, was inflicted
principally by his division of the fleet. Don Pedro de Valdes,
a Spanish Admiral, by whom the enterprise had been planned,
deemed it an honour to have surrendered to him, and was
long entertained by him with a generous hospitality, which
proved that Drake was as well versed in the chivalrous cour-
tesies as in the essentials of war. In his success in this
glorious victory terminated the unmixed felicity which had
hitherto invariably attended him.

The year 1589 was distinguished by the ill-concerted
and mismanaged attempt to place Don Antonio on the
throne of Portugal. In the expedition destined to that
service the fleet was commanded by Sir Francis Drake, and
the military, amounting to eleven thousand, by Sir John
Norris. Drake had never before in any of his enterprises
R 2

244 SIR FRANCIS DRAKE.

had a partner, and the main features of his character were
such as might be expected to disqualify him for any division
of authority. The commanders disagreed in the outset.
Drake proposed to sail directly to Lisbon, but Norris insisted
that the troops should be landed at Corunna, which the
Admiral not only conceded, but promised to conduct the
fleet immediately after up the Tagus to the capital. Unfore-
seen obstacles prevented his keeping his word ; Norris loaded
him with reproaches ; and attributed the utter failure of the
plan, which in fact arose from various causes, to Drake's
absence. The Admiral was obliged to explain and justify
his conduct to the Queen and Council, and was acquitted of
all cause of blame, but his high spirit had been wounded by
the mere inquiry, and he sought to console it by new views
of conquest.

Some years passed, though the war with Spain still sub-
sisted, before an opportunity presented itself. At length he
prevailed on Elizabeth once more to send a powerful arma-
ment to Spanish America, under the direction of himself, and
his old friend and original patron, Sir John Hawkins, and in
a great measure at their private expense, the Queen, however,
furnishing some of her stoutest ships. The fleet, consisting
of twenty-seven vessels, which had been long detained by
Spanish rumours, raised for the purpose of a new plan of
invasion, sailed from Plymouth on the twenty-eighth of
August, 1595. The plan of the expedition was to destroy
Nombre de Dios, the scene of one of Drake's early and most
gallant exploits, and then to march the troops, of which two
thousand five hundred were embarked, to Panama, to seize
the treasure supposed to have lately arrived there from Peru.
When they were on the point of departure, Elizabeth apprised
them that the Plate fleet had arrived in Spain, with the
exception of one rich galleon, which had returned to Porto
Rico for some necessary repairs, and which she advised them
in the first place to secure. They left England differing in
opinion on this question, Hawkins anxious to follow without

SIR FRANCIS DRAKE. 245

delay the Queen's direction, and Drake earnest to commence
their operations by a descent on the island of Teneriffe, which
was accordingly made, and proved wholly unsuccessful. They
then sailed to Dominica, and in the interval the Spaniards,
who had been apprised of the main purposes of the voyage, des-
patched a strong convoy for the galleon, which they brought
off in safety, and so powerfully reinforced Porto Rico, that
the English, on their arrival there, were obliged to content
themselves with ravaging to little purpose the craft in the
harbour, and to retire without having made any impression
on the town ; nor was their attack on Panama, which was
made about Christmas Day, more fortunate. Hawkins died,
as is said, of a broken heart, amidst these reverses, and Drake
barely survived them. A settled melancholy, attended by a
slow fever, and terminating in a dysentery, the common
disease of the country, carried him off on the twenty-eighth of
January, 1595, 0. S., in the fifty-first, or, according to some,
in the fifty-fifth, year of his age.

Little has been said here of the -natural character of this
eminent person, and some circumstances of his life have been
hitherto purposely omitted, for the sake of concluding this
sketch with the very words of a writer of the fair sex, who
has laid before us, in a late publication of singular merit, the
fruits of most laborious and accurate historical research,
clothed in the light and easy garb of refined table-talk.
" The character of Sir Francis Drake," says this lady, " was
remarkable not alone for those constitutional qualities of
valour, industry, capacity, and enterprise, which the history
of his exploits would necessarily lead us to infer ; but for
virtues founded on principle and reflection, which render it
in a high degree the object of respect and moral approbation.
It is true that his aggressions on the Spanish settlements were
originally founded on a vague notion of reprisals, equally
irreconcilable to public law and private equity ; but with
the exception of this error, which may find considerable pal-
liation in the deficient education of the man, the prevalent

246 SIR FRANCIS DRAKE.

opinions of the day, and the peculiar animosity against Philip
the Second cherished in the bosom of every Protestant
Englishman, the conduct of Drake appears to demand almost
unqualified commendation. It was by sobriety, by diligence
in the concern of his employers, and by a tried integrity,
that he early raised himself from the humble station of an
ordinary seaman to the command of a vessel. When placed
in authority over others, he showed himself humane and con-
siderate. His treatment of his prisoners was exemplary ;
his veracity unimpeached ; his private life religiously pure
and spotless. In the division of the rich booty which fre-
quently rewarded his valour and his toils, he was liberal
towards his crews, and scrupulously just to the owners of his
vessels ; and in the appropriation of his own share of wealth,
he displayed that munificence towards the public, of which,
since the days of Roman glory, history has recorded so few
examples. With the profits of one of his earliest voyages, in
which he captured the town of Venta Cruz, and made prize of
a string of mules laden with silver, he fitted out three stout
frigates, and sailed with them to Ireland, where he served as
a volunteer under Walter, Earl of Essex, and performed
many brilliant actions. After the capture of a rich Spanish
carrack at the Terceras in 1587, he undertook at his own
expense to bring to the town of Plymouth, which he repre-
sented in Parliament, a supply of spring water, of which
necessary article it suffered a great deficiency. This he
accomplished by means of a canal or aqueduct, above twenty
miles in length. Drake incurred some blame in the expe-
dition to Portugal for failing to bring his ships up the river
to Lisbon, according to his promise to Sir John Norris, the
General ; but on explaining the case before the Privy Council
on his return, he was entirely acquitted by them ; having
made it appear that under all the circumstances, to have
carried the ships up the Tagus would have been to expose
them to damage, without any benefit to the service. By his
enemies this great man was stigmatised as vain and boastful

SIR FRANCIS DRAKE, 247

— a slight infirmity in one who had achieved so much by
his own unassisted genius, and which the great flow of natural
eloquence which he possessed may at once have produced
and rendered excusable."

It has been erroneously asserted that- Sir Francis Drake
died a bachelor. He married, probably in his middle age,
Elizabeth, daughter and heir of Sir George Sydenham, of
Combe Sydenham, in Devonshire, who survived him, and
re-married to William Courtenay, of Powderham Castle, in
the same county. He left however no issue, and his brother
Thomas became his heir, and was succeeded by his eldest
son, Francis, who was created a Baronet in 1622, and is
at present represented by his lineal descendant, Sir Francis
Henry Drake, of Buckland Monachorum, in the county of
Devon.

PHD LDP

PHILIP HOWARD,

EARL OF ARUNDEL.

THOMAS, fourth Duke of Norfolk, the first victim of his
illustrious House to the jealousy of Elizabeth, took to his
first wife Mary, second of the two daughters and coheirs of
Henry Fitzalan, last Earl of Arundel of his family. By this
lady he had an only son whose birth proved fatal to his
mother, who had not attained to the age of seventeen ; but
the child survived, and became the Peer who will be the
subject of the present memoir. He was born at Arundel
House, in the Strand, on the twenty-eighth of June, 1557,
and baptised in the Palace of Whitehall with uncommon
distinction, in the presence of the King and Queen ; and
Philip, who was his godfather, and in compliment to whom
he was named, left England for ever on the very day that
the ceremony was performed. Notwithstanding this, and
other royal flatteries, the Duke, his father, educated him in
the protestant profession, which, however, he quitted at an
early age for the religion of his ancestors, and from his sin-
cerity in that mode of faith, and the patience and constancy
with which he suffered the calamities which resulted from it,
he seems to have fairly merited the title of martyr. The
paternal dignities which he would have inherited having
been swept away by his father's attainder, he assumed that
of Earl of Arundel in right of his mother, the possession
of the castle of Arundel (a rare instance in this country,
where local honours are almost unknown,) having been
solemnly adjudged in Parliament in the eleventh year of

250 PHILIP HOWARD,

Henry the Sixth to cany with it the Earldom. He was
accordingly summoned among the Peers by that title in 1583,
and in the same year restored in blood.

He possessed for a time a considerable share of Elizabeth's
favour, which he probably owed to his youth, and other per-
sonal attractions, for he was, according to an account of him,
written long after his death, by a domestic priest to his
Countess, and which is still preserved at Norfolk House, "a
very tall," or, as we should now say, stout, " man, and some-
what swarthy ; " to which Dodd, in his Church History,
adds that, " he had an agreeable mixture of sweetness and
grandeur in his countenance." The Queen's partialities in
this kind were in most cases nearly as fatal to their objects
as her resentments, and so it proved in this instance. The
Earl had been married at the age of fourteen to Anne, sister
and coheir of Thomas, last Lord Dacre of Gillesland, of whom
we shall presently give, as her memory well merits, some
particulars. Elizabeth, says the manuscript lately quoted,
" could not endure her, nor indeed the wife of any other to
whom she shewed especial favour, and this distaste of the
Queen's led the Earl to neglect his Lady, on which score his
maternal grandfather, the old Earl of Arundel, and his aunt,
the Lady Lumley, were so displeased that they alienated
much of their property to others."

The Earl, however, was so captivated by the royal grace,
that (to use again the words of the manuscript, from which I
will observe, once for all, that such of the present memoir as
is not of a public nature is chiefly extracted) " he made great
feasts at Arundel House for the Ambassadors, Ministers, &c.
on Coronation days, and other rejoicing days, and entertained
the Queen, and all her Court, at Kenninghall and Norwich,
for many days together." At one of these banquets, at
Arundel House, Elizabeth herself had the profligate baseness
to conceal herself, with Leicester, to overhear a conversation
between the Earl and Sir Francis Walsingham and Lord
Hundson, whom she had directed to tempt him into discourse

EARL OF ARUNDEL. 251

on the subject of religion. It was probably soon after this
flagrant breach of hospitality that he became suspected of
intriguing in favour of the Queen of Scots, and was placed
in confinement in his own house, from which Elizabeth
offered to release him if he would attend her to chapel, and
hear the service of the Reformed Church, which he steadily
refused. No matter, however, of specific accusation being
yet ripe against him, he was set at liberty ; but soon after
again apprehended, and committed to the Tower, from whence
also he was released for want of evidence against him. These
repeated attacks, the jealousy of some great men, and,
in particular, of Lord Hundson, who had been his father's
page, and owed great obligations to his family ; and the out-
rageous rigour with which the penal statutes against the Papists
were then enforced, determined him to quit England, and he
withdrew himself into Sussex ; where, having been betrayed,
as is said, by one of his own servants, he was seized as he was
about to embark on an obscure part of the coast, near his
castle of Arundel, and again committed to the Tower. He
was now prosecuted in the Star-Chamber, and condemned to
a fine of ten thousand pounds, and imprisonment during the
Queen's pleasure, merely on the charges of entertaining
Romish priests in his family ; of corresponding with Cardinal
Allen ; and of meditating to leave the kingdom without the
Queen's permission. In support of these accusations scarcely
anything like proof was produced.

After four years' confinement, mostly so close as to prevent
the possibility of new offence, he was arraigned of high trea-
son, and on the fourteenth of April, 1589, brought to trial in
Westminster Hall, where of the whole body of the Peerage
only twenty-five appeared to sit in judgment on him. He
comported himself with great dignity and firmness. " When
called on," says Camden, " to hold up his hand, he raised it
very high, saying ' Here is as true a man's heart and hand as
ever came into this hall.' " In addition to the points which
had been alleged against him in the Star-Chamber, he was

252 PHILIP HOWARD,

now accused of conspiring with Cardinal Allen to restore the
Catholic faith in England ; of having suggested that the
Queen was unfit to govern ; and of ordering masses to be said
for the success of the Spanish Armada : that he intended to
have withdrawn himself out of the realm, to serve with the
Duke of Parma against his native country ; and that he had
been privy to the measure of issuing the Bull of Pope Pius
the Fifth, for transferring Elizabeth's Crown to Philip of
Spain.

History can scarcely produce another instance of so
wretched and so wicked a perversion of judicial proceeding.
Of the three witnesses produced against him, Sir Thomas
Gerrard, a man of the name of Shelley, and Bennet, a priest,
the two former had nothing to say, and the last having pre-
viously declared by a letter to the Earl that his original false
information to the Privy Council had been extorted from him
by the rack, now spoke only as to the mass said for the success
of the Spanish expedition under the dread of a repetition of
torture. To this parole testimony, if it deserve to be so called,
was added the production of two emblematical paintings which
had been found in the Earl's custody, the one representing a
hand throwing a serpent into fire, with the motto " If God is for
us who can be against us ? " the other, a lion without claws,
inscribed " Yet still a lion ; " and of some foreign letters in
which he was styled " Duke of Norfolk." In the end no
charge of high treason could be substantiated against him
except on the ground of his having been reconciled to the
Church of Rome, and on that only was he found guilty. His
speeches during the trial evinced strong and polished talents.
He repelled the partial and desultory attacks of Popham the
Attorney-General, by acute observations and prompt and
ingenious argument, uttered occasionally with rhetorical
elegance. " The Attorney-General," said he, " has managed
the letters and confessions produced against me as spiders do
flowers, by extracting from them nothing but their poison."

Sentence of death, however, was passed on him, but

EARL OF ARUNDEL. 253

Elizabeth had secretly resolved that it should not be exe-
cuted. He passed the remainder of his unfortunate life in
close confinement, unceasingly employing himself in the
strictest practice of devotion, and in the exercise of his pen
on religious and moral subjects. " One book of Lanspergius,"
says the manuscript at Norfolk House, " containing an epistle
of Jesus Christ to the faithful Soul, he translated out of
Latin into English, and caused it to be printed for the fur-
therance of devotion. He wrote also three treatises on the
excellency and utility of virtue, which never came to light,
by reason he was obliged to send them away upon fear of a
search before they were fully perfected and polished." Two
memorials of his pious disposition remain in a secluded
apartment in what is called Beauchamp's Tower, in the
Tower of London, which was his prison, and whose walls
are covered with melancholy devices by the hands of many
illustrious state prisoners. We find there the following
inscriptions, the former of which has by some accident been
omitted in the account of this interesting room published by
the Society of Antiquaries in the thirteenth volume of their
Archseologia.

" Sicut peccati causa vinciri opprobrium est, ita, e contra,
pro Christo custodies vincula sustinere maxima gloria est.

« Arundell,
26th of May 1587."

" Quanto plus afflictionis pro Christo in hoc sseculo, tanto
plus gloriae cum Christo in futuro. " Arundell,

June 22, 1587."

He was suddenly taken ill, in August 1592, immediately
after eating a roasted teal, the sauce of which was supposed
to contain poison ; for the cook who prepared it, and whom
he had always suspected, and frequently endeavoured in vain
to get removed, came to him when on his death-bed, and
earnestly besought forgiveness for some offence, which, how-

254 PHILIP HOWARD,

ever, he would not disclose. The Earl narrowly escaped for
the time with life, and lingered for nearly three years in
extreme weakness, but never recovered. Shortly before his
departure he petitioned the Queen for permission that his
Lady, and some other friends, might visit him; and she
answered, " that if he would but once attend the Pro-
testant worship his prayer should be granted, and he should
be moreover restored to his honours and estates, and to all
the favour that she could show him." He was released from
his miseries by the hand of death on Sunday, the nineteenth
of October, 1595, and was buried on the following Tuesday
in the chapel of the Tower, in the same grave with the Duke
his father, where his body remained till the year 1624, when,
his widow and his son obtained permission to remove it to
Arundel, where it was interred in an iron coffin, with an
epitaph in Latin, stating the principal points of his perse-
cution, and that he died "non absque veneni suspitione."

The Countess, his wife, possessed considerable talents,
and virtues yet more eminent. She was a most earnest and
zealous Roman Catholic, and it was probably through her
persuasion and example that the Earl after their reconcili-
ation, became a member of that Church. The instances
given of her charity, her humility, and her patience, seem
almost romantic. Several original letters from her to her
daughter-in-law, Alathea Talbot, Countess of Arundel, are
now in the possession of his Grace the Duke of Norfolk, and
are composed in the best style of her time, and in a strain of
unaffected piety, and natural tenderness, which lets us at
once into her true character. Part of an elegiac poem writ-
ten by her, probably on the premature death of her Lord,
remains also in the same custody, and abounds with the
imperfect beauties of a strong, but unpolished, poetical fancy.
Elizabeth's hatred pursued her even after the death of her
husband. His attainder having thrown all his property into
the Crown, and left her destitute, the Queen allowed her
only eight pounds weekly, which was so ill paid that the

EARL OF ARUNDEL. 255

•

Countess was frequently obliged to borrow, in order to pro-
cure common necessaries; was prevailed on, with much
difficulty, to permit her to live in Arundel House in the
Strand, from whence, however, she was always driven when
Elizabeth thought fit to reside in its neighbourhood, in
Somerset House ; occasionally imprisoned her ; often insulted
her ; and always vilified her.

These noble persons had one son, Thomas, who was
restored by King James the First to his father's dignities
and estates, and was afterwards the Earl of Arundel so highly
distinguished by his admirable collection of works of refined
taste and art : and one daughter, Elizabeth, who died unmar-
ried at the age of fifteen years.

, DFORST LORD M.-

OF THIRL US TAKE.
OB; 1595,

JOHN M

JOHN, FIRST LORD MAITLAND,

OP THIRLESTANE.

JOHN MAITLAND, perhaps in all respects the most eminent
of a family in which great talents and elegant genius seem to
have passed almost with the regularity of hereditaiy suc-
cession, was the second son of Sir Richard Maitland of Leth-
ington, Keeper of the Privy Seal of Scotland, and a Lord of
Session, by Mary, daughter of Sir Thomas Cranstoun. He
was born, according to some accounts, about the year 1537,
though the inscription on his tomb, in stating the age at
which he died, fixes his birth to 1545. The latter date,
however plausible the authority, is probably incorrect, for it
can scarcely be believed that he should have succeeded to
those offices of high trust in which we shall presently find
him, when he had scarcely attained to years of manhood. He
was bred with much care in the study of the law, both in
Scotland and on the Continent ; and we are told that he had
passed some years in fruitless attendance at the Court, when
he was provided for by a grant of the Abbey of Kelso, which
he afterwards exchanged for the Priory of Coldingham ; yet the
date of the patent by which that exchange was ratified is so
early as the seventh of February, 1566. On the twenty-
sixth of August, in the following year, on the resignation of
his father, the Privy Seal was given to him by the Regent
Murray, and on the second of the succeeding June he was
appointed a Lord of Session.

II. S

258 JOHN, FIRST LOKD MAITLAND,

It is scarcely necessary to inform the reader of history that
Maitland's admission into the ministry occurred at the most
critical period of the reign of the celebrated Mary. She was
then a prisoner in the Castle of Lochleven, and the questions
of her deposition, and the advancement of her infant son
to the throne, were under discussion. His elder brother,
William, at that time Secretary of State, a sketch of whose
life is also given in this work, opposed those measures with
the most earnest zeal ; and he naturally followed the example
of one to whose experience he looked for instruction, and to
whom he was bound as well by ties of gratitude as of blood.
Younger, however, and less artful, he sank under the ven-
geance of the contrary party, while that subtle and intriguing
politician was left for a time at liberty to pursue his plans.
He was deprived of his offices and his benefice, and fled for
security to the Castle of Edinburgh, then under the command
of Kirkaldy of Grange, a firm and able supporter of Mary's
interests, with whom his brother also was at length obliged
to seek refuge. Here he remained till that fortress surren-
dered to the troops of the Earl of Morton, now Regent,
when he was sent to the Castle of Tantallon, and early in
the following year was removed to a less rigorous custody in
the house of Lord Somerville, where he remained a prisoner
till the fall of Morton, in 1581, when he was released by an
order of the Privy Council.

He came again to the Court with every claim to distinction.
His abilities were of the highest class ; the character of his
mind generous, honourable, and candid ; his loyalty pure and
disinterested : it had subjected him to an imprisonment of
many years, during which he had seen his brother fall a
victim to the public principles on which they had mutually
acted. James received him with becoming gratitude. On
his arrival he was appointed a Senator of the College of
Justice, and, on the eighteenth of May, 1584, knighted and
placed in the office of Secretary of State, which had been so
long and ably held by his brother. He now became in fact

OF THIRLESTANE. 259

first minister of Scotland, for James, whose ripening mind
discovered that he had at last obtained a servant at once
wise, faithful, and moderate, held him in the most perfect
confidence ; while the nobility, tired of parties, and unable
to subdue the storms which themselves had raised, beheld
without jealousy the favour of one in whom they could dis-
cover no disposition to mix in their intrigues, or to rival
their power. He had, however, enemies. James Stuart, the
first, and the most worthless, of the long series of minions
by whom the crown of his master was tarnished, not only
conceived a bitter hatred against him, but inspired most of the
junior branches of the House of Stuart with the same sen-
timent. This man, with no apparent recommendation but
illegitimate descent from the blood royal, James had pro-
moted, as it should seem by an act of insanity, from the
station of Captain of his Guard to that of Lord Chancellor,
with an Earldom. His power became, even in a few months
unbounded, and his fall was as sudden. He fled with terror
from one of those violent attacks which public vengeance
then so often produced in Scotland, aided in this instance by
the secret influence of Elizabeth, and would have been
scarcely again heard of had he not from his retirement accused
the Secretary of being accessary to the death of Mary, and of
a design to deliver up the person of the King to the Queen
of England. When cited to substantiate the charges, which
were universally discredited, he neither appeared nor pro-
duced witnesses ; and James, having kept the office of Chan-
cellor virtually vacant for a considerable time, in the vain
hope that his dastardly favourite might return, at length
bestowed it on Maitland. His patent or commission for that
post is dated on the thirty-first of May, 1587.

Stuart's accusation had been in fact addressed to the royal
and the popular feelings of the moment, and failed for want
of the support which he expected from them. Maitland,
dispassionate, impartial, and consistent, endeavoured to the
last to save the unhappy Maiy ; but, the fatal blow having

200 JOHN, FIRST LORD MAITLAND,

been stricken, exerted his utmost powers of persuasion to
save his master from the ruinous consequences of an im-
potent resentment, and succeeded ; and on a misconstruction
of this wise policy, which to ordinary and heated minds
might seem to indicate at least an indifference to her tragical
fate, had Stuart hoped to insinuate that he had been a party
in accelerating it. The disposition of Maitland indeed was
not less pacific than that of James, but the forbearance of
the one arose from prudence ; of the other from timidity.
The King, therefore, was submissive only to his brother
Sovereigns ; the minister moderate towards all. In this
spirit he undertook and accomplished the difficult task of
reconciling James to the Lords who had been banished to
England ; and laboured incessantly, though with incomplete
success, to compose the unhappy differences which, from
private as well as public causes, agitated the great body of
the Scottish nobility. In the same spirit too, though not
without a secret affection to puritanism, he strove to per-
suade the King to let the monstrous insolences of the
preachers of that sect to his crown and person pass with
impunity ; advising him, says Spotswood, " to leave them to
themselves, for they would render themselves ridiculous by
their actings, to the people ; whereas his Majesty, by im-
prisoning of them for their undutiful speeches and behaviour,
rendered them the object of their compassion." It is not
surprising that James should have rejected advice at once so
odious to his feelings, and of such doubtful policy.

In the memorable year, 1588, he opened the business of
the Parliament which James had called to advise him on the
great impending designs of Philip of Spain, with a speech so
wise and patriotic, that some of the Scottish historians have
preserved the substance of it much at large. He deprecated
with warmth all correspondence with Philip ; advised that
Scotland should be put into the best state of defence ; a
faithful amity maintained with Elizabeth ; and that the
utmost military force which could be raised, and safely

OF THIHLESTAXE. 2G1

spared, might be sent to England, should she claim such aid.
Among those, however, whom he addressed on that occasion
were men not only envious of his power, but corrupted by
the bribes and promises of Spain, and secretly engaged,
should Philip find it convenient to his designs to land a force
in Scotland, to do their best to secure a safe passage for it
into the adjoining realm. At the head of these was another
Stuart, the lately created Earl of Bothwell, a man of an
intriguing and restless disposition, and a most determined
enemy to Maitland. Combined with the Earls of Huntley,
Errol, and Crawfurd, he now laid a plan, if a design so
extravagant can be properly so called, to seize the person of
the King, or the Chancellor, or both, even in the royal
palace. The execution, or rather failure, of this enterprise is
very obscurely related by the Scottish writers. We are
told that the conspirators, attended by several armed men,
gained admission into an apartment in which the King was
conferring with Maitland, few others being present. That
James, having expressed to Huntley, who headed the party,
his surprise at their presence, quitted the room, and was
presently after followed by the Chancellor, the intruders
remaining inactive. It is declared, however, that some
resolute persons then with the King, who were earnest
friends to Maitland, threw themselves about his person, and
guarded his retreat ; and it is probable that from this show
of defence the others inferred that their design had been
disclosed, and preparations made to receive them. They
left the palace seemingly panic-struck ; James, after some
show of displeasure, pardoned them for the insolence which
they had offered ; and they retired to meditate a better
digested attack.

Nor was this long deferred. In the spring of 1589 the
same noblemen, instigated, say the writers of the time, by
the Roman Catholic party, assembled in open insurrection at
Aberdeen, when they issued a proclamation, asserting " that
the King was kept a prisoner by the Chancellor, and forced,

2G2 JOHN, FIRST LORD MAITLAND,

against his mind, to use his nobility with that rigour to
which he was naturally averse ; and requiring all the lieges
to concur with them, and assist them to set his person at
liberty." James raised some troops, and marched to meet
them. They submitted without striking a blow ; were
arraigned of high treason, and found guilty ; and after a
short restraint, the King, to flatter the Catholic party, whose
protection he sought against the puritans, granted them a
free pardon, Maitland, with a policy amiable in appearance,
and prudent in fact, having interceded peculiarly for
Bothwell.

While these matters were passing, James formed a resolu-
tion to offer his hand to the Princess Anne of Denmark, and
on his return to his capital imparted it to his Privy Council,
and met with a steady opposition. Elizabeth, determined to
thwart every treaty of marriage that he might propose, had
secretly gained over a majority of that body to her purpose,
and it is impossible to remore from the character of the
Chancellor a strong suspicion that he had engaged to forward
her design. It is evident that James entertained that
opinion, for his resentment fell on Maitland alone, and at
length arose to such a height, that, having failed in all
endeavours to obtain his concurrence, he condescended to
employ secret agents to inflame the mob of Edinburgh
against the Chancellor, and to induce them to threaten his
life, should the marriage be prevented or even delayed. In
the mean time his enemies in the Court laboured incessantly
in aggravating his offence, and renewing their former accu-
sations ; and he seems to have been on the point of ruin,
when he extricated himself, apparently by an expedient so
simple, and of such doubtful sincerity, that his restoration
to favour may be more probably ascribed to the King's
habitual regard for him. " The Chancellor," says Melvil,
who was no friend to him, " being advertised of his Majesty's
discontent and displeasure, caused it to come to his Majesty's
ears that he would sail himself, and bring the Queen home

OF THIRLESTAXE. 263

with him. He forgot not to anoint the hands of some who
were most familiar with his Majesty to interpret this his
design so favourably that it made the King forget all by-
•gones ; and by little and little he informed him so well of
the said voyage, and the great charges he had bestowed upon
a fair and swift-sailing ship, that his Majesty was moved to
make the voyage himself, and to sail in the same ship with
the Chancellor, with great secresy and short preparation,
making no man privy thereto but such as the Chancellor
pleased, and such as formerly had all been upon his faction."
They sailed on the twenty-second of October, 1589, and
returned not till the twentieth of May. Maitland, who fore-
saw a storm rising against him at home, availed himself of
this long leisure to suggest to James, for his own protection,
several novelties in the form of the Scottish government, and
in the usages of the Court ; meanwhile his enemies in
Scotland were not idle, nor had he been able to conceal
from the Queen his aversion to her marriage. Anne, on her
arrival, naturally enough attached herself to the party which
sought his overthrow ; and the remainder of his life was
passed in fruitless endeavours, by alternate menaces and
concessions, to avert the reverse of fortune which seemed to
await him. A faction was formed against him among the
principal nobility, and the Privy Council charged him with
abusing the influence which he had possessed over the King
in the undue acquisition of important grants of wealth and
power to himself, his family, and his adherents. James, still
earnestly attached to him, had barely composed this difference
with the Council, when his great enemy Bothwell, who had
lately escaped from a confinement on the charge of conspiring
to compass the King's death by witchcraft, again appeared in
arms, and, having published a declaration of his profound
loyalty, and that the removal of the Chancellor was the sole
object of his enterprise, once more sought the life of that
minister in the King's palace and presence. A curious detail
of the minute circumstances of this attack, too long to be

2G4 JOHN, FIRST LORD MAITLAND,

inserted here, may be found in the Memoirs of Sir James
Melvil.

Amidst this warfare on the Chancellor, James raised him
to the Peerage : on the eighteenth of May, 1590, he received
the title of Karon Maitland of Thirlestane, in Berwickshire.
Armed with this proof that he yet enjoyed no small share

royal favour, he seems now first to have courted popularity.
fle resigned the office of Secretary, his long occupation of
which together with the great post of Chancellor had excited
much disgust, and soon after prevailed on the King to pass
that important statute by which the discipline and jurisdic-
tion of the Kirk were finally legalised and confirmed, in
1592. These conciliations had scarcely been offered when
he gave a new offence to the Queen by retaining the pos-
session of an estate which she claimed as a member of the
Abbey of Dunfermline, presented to her by the King on
their marriage, though Maitland had possessed the lands in
question long before that marriage had been even meditated.
She now raised a new faction against him in the Court, and
he retired, broken down with vexations and disappointments,
as well in his private as public affairs, to the country, where
he remained most of the year 1593. At length, willing to
make a final effort, he resigned the estate ; was reconciled,
and graciously received by her ; and, in endeavouring to
ensure her future good-will, unfortunately lent his aid to an
intrigue by which she sought to detach the Prince, her son,
from the custody of the Earl of Mar, in which, by the single
authority and special preference of the King, the infant had
been placed. James, suddenly apprised of this scheme, fell
into a transport of anger unusual to him. He reprehended
the Chancellor with the utmost bitterness ; charged him with
treachery and ingratitude ; and left him hopeless of pardon.
He now retired, never to return. On arriving at his seat at
Lauder, where he had built a magnificent mansion, he was
seized by a fatal illness. James relented, and a letter from
him, which the Chancellor received on his death-bed, is still

OF TIIIRLESTANE, 2G5

extant, and bears a pleasing testimony to the tenderness of
the monarch's disposition. He died on the third of October,
1595, seemingly of the too common disease called a broken
heart, and was buried at Haddington, under a magnificent
tomb, which displays an epitaph in English verse, from the
hand of his royal master.

The Chancellor Maitland occasionally relieved his severer
studies by poetical composition, some specimens of which
have been preserved. A satire written by him, " Aganis
Sklanderous Toungis," has been published by Mr. Pinkerton ;
and several of his epigrams may be found in " Deliciae
Poetarum Scotorum." He married Jane, only daughter and
heir of James, fourth Lord Fleming, (who re-married
John Kennedy, fifth Earl of Cassilis) and had issue by her
John, who succeeded to his dignity, and was in 1624
created Viscount and Earl of Lauderdale ; and a daughter,
Anne, married to Robert Seaton, second Earl of Wintoun.

WILJLIAM CECOL,
LORD BURGHLEY.

OB: ,

WILLIAM CECIL,

LORD BURGH LEY.

No one can expect in this place a regular and digested
detail even of the most prominent facts of this great man's
life. The history of his country, and indeed of Europe, teem
with the particulars of his political conduct ; and though
these have been repeatedly condensed, and embodied with
much skill and labour, in forms of biography confined exclu-
sively to his story, yet so abundant are the materials, and
the theme of such mighty interest, that a life of this minister,
combining on an ample scale authentic facts and judicious
reasonings', with grace of style, and with that warmth of
interest which only a real affection to the subject can bestow,
would supply perhaps the most important deficiency in the
whole circle of our historical literature. Little more can
properly be done here than to collect some fleeting circum-
stances of his private and domestic conduct : to gather
from obscure and neglected sources such as may be obtained
of those smaller lights and shadows of character which the
affected dignity of history has deemed unworthy of notice.

He descended from an ancient and respectable family of
country gentlemen which had long been seated in the county
of Hereford, a branch of which removed from thence into
Lincolnshire, and settled there, in the neighbourhood of
Stamford, on considerable estates, purchased by his grand-
father, David Siselt, Sitsilt, or Cyssell, for thus variously does
his name seem to have been spelled by this individual person.
Numerous attempts were formerly made to trace the origin

268 WILLIAM CECIL,

of his house to remote antiquity, for Burghley's foible, and
perhaps he had no other, was to assume a credit for splendid
ancestry, and he spared no pains in endeavouring to establish
the justice of his claim. So predominant in him was this dis-
position, that he could not help beginning an answer which he
penned to some malignant libels on Elizabeth and her ministers
with a diffuse account of his own family. It may be readily
conceived that genealogists and antiquaries were not eager
to dispute this point with a prime minister. Verstegan, the
first of the latter class in the Treasurer's time, taking an
ingenious advantage of the classical aspect of the surname
" Cecil," an orthography by the way, which se,ems to have
been first used by Burghley himself, gravely derives him.
from a patrician stock of ancient Rome ; and others, of less
note, who preceded and followed Verstegan, have been even
more complaisant. Burghley's genealogical researches, how-
ever, were not confined to his own views. He loved the
study, and probably devoted to it most of the little time that
he could snatch from his great avocations. I once possessed
many manuscript pedigrees, written entirely by himself,
which a nobleman, lineally descended from him, did me the
honour some years since to accept at my hands. Several of
them had been compiled with the evident view of discovering
illustrious alliances with his own blood. Others were mis-
cellaneous, comprising many families of nobility and gentry
in various parts of the kingdom with whom he sought not
for such connexion.

He was born on the thirteenth of September, 1520, in tha
house of his grandfather, at Bourne, in Lincolnshire, of which
parish his mother, Jane, daughter and heir of William Hick-
ington, was a native. His father, Richard Cecil, was master
of the robes to Henry the Eighth. He gained the rudiments
of his education at the free school of Grantham, afterwards
at Stamford, and at the age of fifteen went to St. John's
Qollege, in Cambridge. The cool and sober mind, and the
disposition for almost unremitting application, which distin-

LORD BURGHLEY. 260

guished his public life, were equally conspicuous in his child-
hood : in his college he rose always at four, and could scarcely
be prevailed on to quit his studies during the whole of the
day. We are told that he suffered much there from a
defluxion on his legs, which was ascribed to his sedentary-
habit, and was cured with difficulty ; but this was probably
his first attack of that inveterate gout which so cruelly
afflicted his maturer years. His father having destined him
to the profession of the law, he was entered of Gray's Inn in
his twenty-first year, and, about three months after, married
Mary, sister of the celebrated scholar Sir John Cheke. A
casual disputation with two priests of the Romish Church on
some points of doctrine, and of pontifical authority, is said to
have introduced him a little before this period to the notice
of Henry, who bestowed on him the reversion of an office in
one of the courts of law ; and the interest of his brother-in-
law, who was preceptor to Edward the Sixth, brought him
early in the reign of that Prince into the favour of the Pro-
tector. He was appointed Master of Requests, and promoted
soon after to the office of Secretary of State ; was displaced,
with the rest of Somerset's friends, and committed to the
Tower, where he remained a prisoner for some months ; and
not long before the King's death was restored by Dudley,
who had discovered in him that cool wisdom of which his
own intemperate counsels stood so much in need.

Cecil has been taxed with ingratitude, and indeed treachery,
to his great patron Somerset, but the charge, which seems to
have been grounded on his sudden acquisition of the favour
of Northumberland, acquired little credit. Some suspicion,
it is true, to that effect might probably have been built on
the cold consolation which he offered to the Protector when
that great man was tottering on the brink of final ruin. He
solicited an interview with Cecil, then attached to the faction
of Dudley ; communicated to him his apprehensions of the
impending blow ; and asked his friendly advice. Cecil is
said to have contented himself with answering that, " if he

270 WILLIAM CECIL,

were innocent, he might trust to that : if he were otherwise,
he could but pity him." This anecdote, if it be genuine,
furnishes no presumption of treachery. It savours only of
the frigid caution which must necessarily attend him who
successfully endeavours to rise amidst a conflict of parties.
Pure gratitude belongs, almost exclusively, to the intercourse
of private society, and Cecil was a statesman by profession ;
almost by nature.

Aided by the same useful, however narrow, prudence, he
steered with safety through the frightful difficulties which
arose on the questionable succession to the Crown upon the
death of Edward. When directed by that Prince to prepare
the instrument for settling it on Jane Grey, he excused him-
self with admirable address, and shifted the performance of
the office on the judges ; and, when it was to be signed by
the King, and the Privy Council, contrived, though himself a
member of that body, that his name should appear on the
face of it only as that of a witness to the royal signature.
So, when Northumberland, on the King's demise, called on
him to draw the proclamation declaring Jane's accession, and
asserting her right to the throne, he excused himself by de-
clining to invade the province of the Attorney and Solicitor
General ; and, shortly after, when the fortunes of that rash
nobleman and his family were becoming desperate, positively
denied his request to compose an argument in support of her
title, and of the dispositions made by Henry for the exclusion
of Mary. Armed with these pleas, from which at the best
little could be inferred beyond a mere neutrality, he presented
himself to that Princess in the very hour which had finally
crushed the hopes of Jane, and was graciously received. He
prudently took this opportunity to secure himself by a general
pardon.

Reserved, mysterious, and perhaps too selfish, in his political
views, he preserved, however, a noble integrity in his affection
to the religious faith in which he had been bred. When
Mary, on her accession, offered to continue him in the post of

LORD BURGHLEY. 271

Secretary if he would conform to the Church of Rome, he
stedfastly refused. In a manuscript account of his life, pro-
fessed to have been written by one of his servants, which
possesses much internal evidence of authenticity, we are told
that he answered the noble emissary who conveyed to him
the Queen's pleasure on that occasion, " that he thought him-
self bound to serve God first, and next the Queen, but if her
service should put him out of God's service, he hoped her
Majesty would give him leave to chuse an everlasting rather
than a momentary service ; and, as for the Queen, she had
been his so gracious lady, that he would ever serve and pray
for her in his heart, and with his body and goods be as ready
to serve in her defence as any of her loyal subjects, so she
would please to grant him leave to use his conscience to him-
self, and serve her at large, as a private man, which he chose
rather than to be her greatest counsellor." The same autho-
rity informs us that he now commenced a correspondence
with Elizabeth in her captivity ; communicated to her from
time to time all public events in which her interests were
concerned ; assisted her with his counsels ; and thus laid the
foundation for that future exalted station in her favour which
certainly seems to have rested little less on her personal
regard for him than on her conviction of his wisdom and his
fidelity.

He was the first person on whom' she called for advice, for
on the very day of her accession he presented to her minutes
of twelve particular matters which required her instant atten-
tion, and the first appointment of her reign was to replace
him in the office of Secretary. To this, three years after,
she added that of Master of the Court of Wards, a post of
considerable profit and patronage ; on the 25th of February
1570, O. S., created him Baron of Burghley in Lincolnshire ;
in 1572 gave him the Order of the Garter ; and in the autumn
of that year he succeeded the old Marquis of Winchester as
Lord High Treasurer, and so remained till his death, on the
fourth of August 1598, having presided uninterruptedly in

£72 WILLIAM CECIL,

the administration of public measures for thirty of the most
glorious and happy years that England has ever known.

In every feature of this very eminent person's character we
trace some one or more of the qualifications for a great states-
man, and in every particular of his public conduct we dis-
cover their fruition. He burst forth therefore in his youth
upon public observation in the possession, almost intuitively, of
those rare faculties which deride the slow march of experience,
and scarcely need the protection of power ; a fact almost incre-
dible, had we not ourselves of late years witnessed a similar
phenomenon. In a remarkable letter of Roger Ascham's, in
the year 1550, chiefly on the learning of the English ladies,
having spoken largely in the praise of the erudite Mildred
Coke, who had then become the second wife of Cecil, he
digresses to her husband, at that time in his thirtieth year,
and a minister of some years' standing. " It may be doubted,"
gays the translator of Ascham, " whether she is most happy
in the possession of this surprising degree of knowledge ; or
in having had for her preceptor and father Sir Anthony Coke,
whose singular erudition caused him to be joined with John
Cheke in the office of tutor to the King ; or, finally, in having
become the wife of William Cecil, lately appointed Secretary
of State ; a young man indeed, but mature in wisdom, and
so deeply skilled both in letters and affairs, and endued with
such moderation in the exercise of public offices, that to him
would be awarded by the consenting voice of Englishmen
the four-fold praise attributed to Pericles by his rival
Thucydides — to know all that is fitting ; to be able to apply
what he knows ; to be a lover of his country ; and to be
superior to money."

Perhaps no better proof of his profound sagacity could be
found than in the fact of his having, throughout the unusually
protracted term of his administration, enjoyed the uninter-
rupted confidence and esteem of a Princess whom, if we can
for a moment forget our own prejudices and her glory, we
shall find little less capricious than her father, and almost as

LORD BURGHLEY. 2"3

unprincipled. One solitary instance of an apparent suspen-
sion of her favour towards him accompanied the ridiculous
disavowal of her intention to sign the death warrant of the
unhappy Mary, and the infamous sacrifice of Davison, through
which she sought to conceal one crime by the commission of
another ; but this was mere affectation and artifice ; he is
said to have besought her pardon with a show of the most
humble contrition, and received it so speedily that the sin-
cerity of her anger was even at that time doubted.

Burghley, a favourite without the name, was ever an over-
match for the unworthy Leicester, on whom that odious title
was always bestowed. The fair fame which followed the
one unsought was vainly pursued by the other, and thus will
the steady and straightforward step of wisdom and rectitude
always outstrip the eager and irregular efforts of cunning and
deceit. Flattery seems to have had no share in procuring
or maintaining to him the unbounded grace of his mistress,
nor can an instance be found of his having used artifice to
cultivate that popularity which he so largely enjoyed. He
chastened with so just a judgment a naturally high spirit,
and an ample consciousness of the dignity of his rank and
place, as to obtain the reverence of many, and the esteem of
the whole body, of the nobility, with the exception of a very
few, the impotency of whose factious endeavours against
him served but to increase the splendour of his reputation,
and to strengthen the grasp with which he upheld the
honour of the Crown, and the interests of the nation.
Though Elizabeth is said to have ruled by the dexterous
opposition of parties, she ever abstained from involving him
in the collision. Indeed there is good reason to suppose
that he joined her in the prosecution of this policy, and, by
affecting a careless neutrality, increased the vain hopes of
faction, and encouraged it to disclose its views. In the long
course of his ministry, history records not a single instance
of erroneous judgment ; of persecution, or even severity, for
any public or private cause ; of indecorous ambition, or thirst

II. T

L>74 WILLIAM CECIL, LOUD BUKGHLET.

of wealth ; of haughty insolence, or mean submission. In a
word, moderation, the visible sign of a moral sense critically
just, was the guide of all his actions ; decorated the purity
of his religious faith with charity to his opponents, and
tempered the sincere warmth of his affection to the Crown
with a due regard to all the civil institutions of the realm ;
it has been therefore happily said of him, that " he loved to
wrap the prerogatives in the laws of the land."

The same fine principle coloured the whole conduct of his
private life. Without remarkable fondness or indulgence,
he was the kindest husband, father, and master, among the
great men of his time ; with few professions of regard, a
warm friend ; a steady enemy, with passive resentment ; a
cheerful, and even jocose companion, with cautious famili-
arity ; just in all his dealings, without ostentation ; magni-
ficent in his establishments, without profusion ; tenacious of
the powers and privileges of his own high station, and
tenderly careful of the rights of others. His two marriages,
in both of which he was singularly fortunate, have been
already mentioned. It is scarcely necessary to say that the
Marquis of Exeter is lineally descended from the first, and
the Marquis of Salisbury from the second. His second lady
brought him likewise two daughters ; Anne, who became the
wife of Edward de Vere, eighteenth Earl of Oxford ; and
Elizabeth, married to William, eldest son of Thomas Lord
Wentworth.

ROBERT DEVERE8
SEX,

601-

ROBERT DEVEREUX,

EARL OF ESSEX.

THAT incomparable Essex, who was the second Earl of
his family ; the great favourite of Elizabeth, and of England ;
the admiration and the regret of Europe. In an age certainly
inquisitive ; at least pretending to exquisite taste and judg-
ment ; and peculiarly distinguished by its incessant and
various employment of the press ; it is astonishing that no
regular and detailed celebration should have been dedicated
to the memory of this very extraordinary man. We have
been gorged, even to disgust, with tedious pieces of unmerited
biography, and the actions and motives of plodding states-
men, insignificant courtiers, and rebels who resembled Essex
in nothing but in their rank and their punishment, have been
sifted and analysed with the most insufferable minuteness ;
while a thousand inestimable memorials of a character, the
exquisite perfections and errors of which were almost pecu-
liar to itself, have been suffered to remain scattered and
unconnected on the pages of history, or buried in undisturbed
manuscript. How can we account for this omission ? Have
fear and modesty deterred modern biographers from ventur-
ing on a task to perform which worthily the pen must some-
times be dipped in the softest milk of human kindness, and
sometimes into the burning fermentation of furious passions ;
or must we ascribe it to a submission, less excusable, to the
depraved taste of a time in which history is chiefly devoted
to the discovery of political analogies, and to the suggestion
T2

£70 ROUERT DEVEREUX,

of party arguments 1 The narrow compass to which these
essays are limited prohibits the author from an attempt in
which he could have but little chance of success. He must
confine himself here to a mere recital of circumstances. But
it were earnestly to be wished that some one, in whom
delicate feeling is united to acute judgment ; who could form
a fair estimate of admirable merits and of venial imprudences ;
who may be qualified by an extensive knowledge of the
history of the human heart as well as of his country, would
write a life of the Earl of Essex.

He was the son of Walter Devereux, Viscount Hereford,
&c., who had been created Earl of Essex by Elizabeth, in
1572, and whose portrait, with a sketch of his life and
character, may be found elsewhere in this work. His mother
was Lettice, daughter of Sir Francis Knollys, K.G., a
relation, at no great distance, to Anne Bullen, the Queen's
mother ; and Robert, the elder of their two sons, was born
at the Earl's seat at Netherwood, in Herefordshire, on the
tenth of November, 1567. His childhood was undistin-
guished by any promise of more than ordinary parts. We
are told indeed by Sir Henry Wotton, who may be said to
have studied the history of the family, that his father had
formed a very mean judgment of his understanding, and
directed his attention therefore chiefly to the improvement
of Walter, his younger son. Robert had not attained his
tenth year when he succeeded to the honours and estates of
his family. His father had committed him to the care of
persons of uncommon wisdom and worth. Burghley was
his guardian, and the severely virtuous Sussex, in regard of
a promise to the Earl on his death-bed, his firm friend. Sir
Edward Waterhouse, a man perhaps equal to them in talents,
as he certainly was in honour and integrity, personally super-
intended his affairs, and watched over his conduct with a
vigilance which was sweetened, as well as strengthened, by
the most earnest affection, for Waterhouse had been entirely
beloved and trusted by the deceased Earl, and entered on

EARL OF ESSEX. 277

his charge with a heart overflowing with kindness and
gratitude. Towards the end of the year 1578, the young
Essex, by the direction of Lord Burghley, became a stu-
dent of Trinity College, in Cambridge. Whitgift, afterwards
Primate, who was then master of that house, undertook the
direction of his education, and here the character and powers
of his mind were presently unfolded : his obedient applica-
tion to the severer orders of learning was not less remarked
than his attachment to more polite studies, and he was dis-
tinguished for an elegance and fluency of composition of
which his time afforded few instances. His manners were
peculiarly engaging ; his temper mild, compliant, and marked
by a graceful seriousness which approached to melancholy ;
his moral conduct stained by no vice, and becomingly
tinctured with dignity. He remained in the University till
1582, when he took the degree of Master of Arts, and soon
after went into South Wales, where he resided in one of his
family mansions, and became, says Wotton, so enamoured
of a rural life, that it required much persuasion to withdraw
him from his retirement.

In 1584 he came at length to Court, introduced and
patronised by his father-in-law, Leicester, who was then in
the zenith of his power. It had been strongly rumoured that
Leicester caused the late Earl's death by poison. He had
married the widowed Countess with indecent haste, and
perhaps now sought to lessen the suspicion under which he
laboured by thus publicly professing his affection for the son.
It has been said that Essex was inclined to reject his prof-
fered friendship ; we find, however, that in the succeeding
year, he accompanied Leicester, then appointed Captain-
General in the Low Countries, to Holland, where, though
little more than eighteen years old, he received the commis-
sion of General of the Horse. He was distinguished in that
campaign by his personal bravery, especially in the battle of
Zutphen, and on the twenty-seventh of December, 1587,
shortly after his return, was suddenly elevated to the dig-

278 ROBERT DEVEREUX,

nified post of Master of the Horse. In the following year,
when Elizabeth assembled an army to await at the mouth of
the Thames the awful attack threatened by Spain ; when
superior military skill, to direct the bravery of her troops,
was perhaps even more important than the wisdom of her
ministers to the support of a crown which was then thought
by many to totter on her head ; she chose this youth to com-
mand her horse, and decorated him with that splendid order
of knighthood which she had frequently denied to the best
and the noblest of her old servants. Thus far he seemed to
common observers to have been borne forward on the wing
of Leicester's power, or rather till thivS period had Elizabeth
been able to conceal that extravagant partiality which pre-
sently after astonished all Europe, and still remains perhaps
the most remarkable paradox in English history.

Leicester died in the autumn of that year, and Essex
instantly rose to a measure of favour which that extraor-
dinary man, whose influence over the Queen had been so
long envied, never enjoyed. It was unsought by himself.
It pursued him. It seemed even to molest him, by inter-
rupting the course of his inclinations, and confining his
ardent and independent spirit to spheres of action which,
though the amplest that a monarch could offer, were too
narrow for its rapid an 1 eccentric range. Even so early as
the spring of 1589 he fled, unpermitted, from the Court, and
sailed to Portugal with Norris and Drake, a volunteer in
the expedition then undertaken for the restoration of Don
Antonio to the throne of that kingdom. The degree of
anger to which Elizabeth was provoked by this extravagant
step, and by his disobedience to a previous summons, may
be best inferred from the letter by which she commanded his
instant return.

" Essex,

" Your sudden and undutiful departure from
our presence, and your place of attendance, you may easily
conceive how offensive it is, and ought to be, unto us. Our

EARL OF ESSEX. 279

great farours bestowed upon you, without deserts, hath drawn
you thus to neglect and forget your duty, for other con-
struction we cannot make of these your strange actions. Not
meaning therefore to tolerate this ycur disordered part, we
gave directions to some of our Privy Council, to let you know
our express pleasure for your immediate repair hither, which
you have not performed, as your duty doth bind you, increasing
thereby greatly your former offence, and undutiful behaviour,
in departing in such sort without our privity, having so
special offices of attendance and charge near our person.
We do therefore charge and command you forthwith, upon
the receipt of these our letters, all excuses and delay set
apart, to make your present and immediate repair unto us, to
understand our farther pleasure ; whereof see you fail not, as
you will be loth to incur our indignation, and will answer for
the contrary at your uttermost peril.
« T/ie 1 5th of April, 1589."

Essex at length presented himself, and these threats were
revoked. He returned not to inquiry and punishment, but
to renewed grace. The gallantry with which he had fought
in every action during his absence, was thrown by Elizabeth
into the scale of his merits, and the counterpoise forgotten.
Elizabeth admired brave men ; and yet it has been observed
that when, about this time, Essex, in a sudden fit of jealousy
of her favour, had affronted Sir Charles Blount, afterwards
Lord Montjoy, because he had decorated his person with a
jewel which the Queen had given to him, and had been
therefore challenged, and wounded in a duel, by that gentle-
man, she swore, with great seeming wrath, that "unless
some one or other should take him down, there would be no
ruling him." There can be little doubt that this speech was
meant to disguise her real sentiments. Such a favourite as
Essex could not have offended a woman of her character by
contending for her good graces. His marriage, however,
which shortly followed these events, did indeed provoke her

280 ROBERT DEVEREUX,

resentment to the utmost ; but here too the same feelings
led her to dissemble : she ascribed her anger to the alleged
inequality of the match, by which she alleged that the honour
of the Earl's house was degraded— degraded by his having
married the daughter of Sir Francis Walsingham, and relict
of Sir Philip Sidney !

In 1591 he was appointed to the command of a force of
four thousand troops, sent by Elizabeth to assist Henry the
Fourth of France in the siege of Rouen. The object of this
expedition was wholly disconcerted by the tardy co-opera-
tion of the French. Essex, however, distinguished himself
by a chivalrous gallantry in many skirmishes, and, after an
absence of some months, returned, highly disgusted because
the greatest captain of the age had declined his advice on a
military question. He was received with unabated kind-
ness by the Queen, who now admitted him into her Privy
Council, but it is at this period, as perhaps might naturally
be expected, that historians have dated the commencement
of his discontents. His captivating talents, his unbounded
liberality, his courtesy, and his courage, had rendered him
the idol of all warm and generous hearts ; while the selfish
and the needy crowded round him, and loaded him with
adulation, in the hope of sharing the fruits of his unbounded
influence over Elizabeth. The younger nobility, and the
military, looked up to him with mixed motives of affection
and interest, and considered him at once their example and
their patron ; the Puritans, now becoming a formidable
body, arrogantly claimed his protection as a duty which had
devolved on him from his father-in-law, Leicester, who had
openly favoured their doctrines and their pretensions ; and
the disaffected of other classes courted him with unceasing
assiduity, in the view of, some time, availing themselves of
that discord with the Queen or her servants, into which the
simplicity of his heart, and the eagerness of his temper,
were so likely to betray him. This enormous popularity at
length excited in secret the fears of Elizabeth, and increased

EARL OF ESSEX. 281

the jealousy already raised in the breasts of her ministers
by the favours that she had bestowed on him. She sought
to avert her danger by furnishing incessant employment to
his activity and love of glory, and they laboured to drive him
to desperation by schemes to render his services abortive.

These passions were beginning to operate when, in June,
1596, he undertook, jointly with the High Admiral Howard,
the command of the expedition to Cadiz. The particulars of
this and of his excursions in the succeeding year, are so
largely given by our historians, that it would be impertinent
to repeat them here. It is worthy, however, of observation,
that in the former his opinion was always uniformly rejected,
save only as to the proper moment for attacking the Spanish
fleet in the harbour, the Admiral's concession to which was
so joyfully received by him, that, in an ecstasy, he threw
his hat into the sea. The Island Voyage, as it was called,
of 1597, in which he acted as commander-in-chief both of
the army and fleet, was unhappily distinguished by his
differences with Raleigh, who served as Rear-Admiral, the
origin and circumstances of which have been variously and
even contradictorily represented by different writers ; and
yet, amidst this confusion, strong grounds appear to suspect
Raleigh of a premeditated design to prevent the success of
the enterprise. Essex, on his arrival from Cadiz, had been
better received by the Queen than by her ministers, whom
he found inclined to censure every part of his conduct in the
expedition. He published, therefore, a narrative of it, more
remarkable for sincerity than prudence, in which, as has
been well observed, " he set down whatever was omitted in
the prosecution of it, and then, by way of answer to those
objections, imputed all miscarriages to other men ; by which
he raised to himself many implacable enemies, and did not
gain one friend." In the mean time his attempts to use
his influence for the service of his friends, which indeed
seems to have been the end to which he wished always to
apply it, were constantly thwarted. He was now deeply

282 ROBERT DEVEREUX,

mortified, and Elizabeth, who seems to have shared in his
chagrin, endeavoured to console him by a gift for life of the
post of Master of the Ordnance, to which he was appointed
on the nineteenth of March, 1597. New causes, however,
of dissatisfaction arose. During his absence on the Island
Voyage the Admiral, Howard, had been created Earl of
Nottingham, and in his patent the reduction of Cadiz was
ascribed to his good service. This affront, as Essex, and
perhaps rightly, conceived it, together with his vexation at
the moderate success of that expedition, produced in him a
disgust which became publicly visible. On his return, he
retired to the country, and, according to the fashion of that
time, pleaded illness to excuse his attendance in Parliament,
which was then sitting. Elizabeth again interfered to
appease him, and on the twenty-eighth of December, 1597,
raised him to the splendid office of Earl Marshal of England.
His services, or rather his endeavours to serve, were now
transferred to the Council, and he appeared in the character
of a statesman, for which he possessed every qualification
but patience. Here he opposed, with equal vehemence and
good argument, the proposals offered in May, 1598, for a
treaty of amity with Spain. On this great topic he engaged
in disputes with the Treasurer, Burghley, which rose to such
warmth that Burghley, at the council table, drew a prayer-
book from his bosom, and prophetically pointed out to the
Earl this passage — " Men of blood shall not live out half
their days." Peace was determined on ; and Essex, in his
dread of being misrepresented, to the abatement of that
popularity his affection to which was his greatest fault and
misfortune, immediately composed his " Apology against
those which falsely and maliciously take him to be the only
hindrance of the peace and quiet of their country, addressed
to his friend Anthony Bacon." This exquisite example of
his talents and integrity, as well as of the purity and elegance
of his style, infinitely valuable too as it exhibits a sketch by
his own hand of the circumstances of his public conduct to

EAUL OF ESSEX. 283

that period, was soon after printed, doubtless at least with
his concurrence, to the great offence of the Queen. Burghley,
his ancient guardian, whose power had in some measure
warded off the attacks of his enemies, and to the wisdom
and kindness of whose advice his impetuosity had frequently
submitted, died while Essex was preparing his Apology,
and he fell into new errors and excesses. Among these the
most remarkable occurred in his memorable and well-known
quarrel with Elizabeth on the choice of a Governor for
Ireland, which terminated on his part with the grossest
personal insult ever offered by a subject to a sovereign, and
on her's by manual chastisement. He fled to hide his rage
in the most obscure retirement, and it was with the utmost
difficulty that he could be prevailed on to acknowledge his
fault. The wise and worthy Lord Keeper Egerton, in ad-
dressing to him a long letter of gentle remonstrance, uses
these persuasions — " If you still hold this course, which
hitherto you find to be worse and worse (and the longer
you go, the further you go out of the way), there is little
hope or likelihood the end will be better. You are not
yet gone so far but that you may well return. The return
is safe, but the progress is dangerous and desperate in this
course you hold. If yotf have any enemies, you do that for
them which they could never do for themselves ; your
friends you leave to scorn and contempt. You forsake your-
self, and overthrow your fortunes, and ruinate your honour
and reputation. You give that comfort and courage to the
foreign enemies as greater they cannot have ; for what can be
more welcome and pleasing news than to hear that her
Majesty and the realm are maimed of so worthy a member,
who hath so often and so valiantly quailed and daunted
them ? You forsake your country when it hath most need
of your counsel and aid : and, lastly, you fail in your indis-
soluble duty which you owe unto your most gracious
Sovereign ; a duty imposed on you, not by nature and policy
only, but by the religious and sacred bond wherein the

284 ROBERT DEVEREUX,

Divine Majesty of Almighty God hath by the rule of
Christianity obliged you."

Essex's reply presents perhaps the truest picture extant
not only of his natural but of his political character ; of the
grandeur of his mind, and of the tyranny of his passions ; of
his habitual loyalty, and his republican inclinations. In this
admirable letter we find the following vivacious expressions
of defiance—" When the vilest of all indignities are done
unto me, doth religion inforce me to sue ? Doth God require
it 1 Is it impiety not to do it ? Why ? Cannot Princes
err ? Cannot subjects receive wrong ? Is an earthly power
infinite ? Pardon me, pardon me, my Lord ; I can never
subscribe to these principles. Let Solomon's fool laugh when
he is stricken. Let those that mean to make their profit of
Princes shew to have no sense of Princes' injuries. Let them
acknowledge an infinite absoluteness on earth that do not
believe an infinite absoluteness in heaven. As for me,
I have received wrong ! I feel it : My cause is good ; I know
it : and, whatsoever comes, all the powers on earth can never
shew more strength or constancy in oppressing than I can
shew in suffering whatsoever can or shall be imposed on me."
He was at length persuaded to make a proud submission, and
was again received into Elizabeth's favour, which seemed even
yet to have been but little impaired.

The affairs of Ireland appear indeed to have been at that
time Essex's favourite political study. He had frequently,
in the debates of the council, complained of an unreasonable
parsimony with which he charged the Ministers in the
government of that country, and of restrictions by which they
had long fettered the faculties of the Queen's Deputies. His
enemies determined to avail themselves of this disposition,
and to tempt him by an offer of that important and honour-
able post, with unusually enlarged authority, and the com-
mand of a more numerous army than had ever been sent
thither. To conquer rebellious factions ; to civilize a people
at once barbarous and generous ; to administer strict justice

EARL OF ESSEX. 285

through the means of absolute power ; were noble objects in
the view of one whose character united, with a haughty and
courageous spirit, the mildest humanity and the most exalted
moral principles. Prudence too, if he ever used it, now per-
haps reminded him that anger is best cooled by absence, and
that past errors are frequently forgotten in the grateful sense
of new services. He accepted the office, however, with reluct-
ance and disgust, unless we are to consider the following
exquisite little epistle to Elizabeth, which is said, I know
not on what ground, to have been written between the dates
of his appointment and his departure, merely as a general
appeal to her feelings, and a strong effort to regain the fulness
of her favour, for which he made his commission to Ireland
the pretext.

" From a mind delighting in sorrow ; from spirits wasted
with passion ; from a heart torn in pieces with care, grief,
and travel ; from a man that hateth himself, and all things
else that keep him alive ; what service can your Majesty
expect, since any service past deserves no more than banish-
ment and proscription to the cursedest of all islands ? It is
your rebels' pride and success must give me leave to ransom
myself out of this hateful prison ; out of my loathed body ;
which, if it happen so, your Majesty shall have no cause to
mislike the fashion of my death, since the course of my life
could never please you.

" Happy he could finish forth his fate
In some unhaunted desert, most obscure
From all society, from love and hate
Of worldly folk ; then should he sleep secure;
Then wake again, and yield God ever praise;
Content with hips, and haws, and bramblebeny,
In contemplation passing out his days,
And change of holy thoughts to make him merry;
Who when he dies his tomb may be a bush.
Where ha-mless Robin dwells with gentle Thrush.

" Your Majesty's exiled servant,

"ROBERT ESSEX."

286 ROBERT DEVEREUX,

On the twenty-seventh of March, 1599, he left London, on
his way towards Ireland, to the great joy of those who had
thus freed themselves of his unwelcome presence to place him
amidst perils which they well knew how to increase. Their
efforts, however, were needless. The short term of his govern-
ment was a tissue of imprudence, confusion, and misfortune.
He passed the first two months in making journeys of obser-
vation, and plans for action, and laid the fruits of those
labours before the Queen at large in a letter of consummate
ability. Elizabeth slighted his opinions, and blamed his
conduct in the very first military enterprise which he under-
took. During the irritation produced by these crosses, a large
body of his troops was worsted by the Irish, and he punished
the remainder of the detachment, contrary to his nature, with
a frightful severity. He undertook an unsuccessful expedi-
tion, contrary to the Queen's express order to march his
army into another province, and afterwards, in obeying that
order, was yet more unfortunate. He demanded reinforce-
ments, and obtained them ; marched in person, at the head
of his main army, to attack the rebels, under the command
of Tir-oen ; and, without striking a blow, concluded a dis-
graceful treaty with that chieftain. His incessant reflection
at that period on the designs of his enemies in England,
seems to have been either the cause or the consequence of a
degree of actual insanity which never after left him. He
formed a serious resolution to return with his army, and to
employ it in subduing them, and it was with much difficulty
that some of his dearest friends succeeded in dissuading him
from that monstrous attempt. Shortly after, on receiving a
reproachful letter from the Queen, he suddenly quitted Ire-
land, almost alone, and travelling with the utmost speed,
appeared most unexpectedly in her presence at Nonsuch, on
the twenty-eighth of September, 1599, and implored her to
listen to his apology.

Elizabeth was touched by the singular character of this
appeal, which once more excited in some degree her tender-
ness, wlihe it flattered her pride. Essex, once so beloved ;

EARL OF ESSEX. 287

whose disobedience she had threatened with condign punish-
ment ; whose rebellious resistance she had been taught to
anticipate ; instead of persisting in his contumacy ; or stand-
ing aloof to treat for pardon ; or employing friends to inter-
cede on his behalf; had fled from an army which adored
him, and crossed the sea, to throw himself singly on her
mercy and her wisdom. She received him with complacency,
and admitted him to a long conference, in the conclusion of
which she commanded him not to quit his apartment in
the Court, and soon after committed him to an honourable,
though close confinement in the house of the Lord Keeper.
It is more than probable that, had matters been left wholly
to her undisturbed decision, he might even now have escaped
with very light penalties, but another powerful passion had
been awakened in her breast, and, terrified at the representa-
tions which were every hour laid before her of the dangers
to be apprehended from his popularity and his violence, she
consented at length to leave his case to the Privy Council,
before which it had been somewhat agitated immediately
after his arrival. He had remained long a prisoner, still
occasionally encouraged, and with Elizabeth's connivance,
to hope that no more was intended than to humble his spirit,
and that he might be again restored to her grace ; till, on the
fifth of June, 1600, he was brought publicly before the
Council, and, after an examination of eleven hours, for the
most part of which he was kept kneeling, it was determined
that he should be deprived of his seat in that body, and of all
his offices, except that of Master of the Horse, and should
remain in custody during the Queen's pleasure. He was
finally enlarged on the twenty-seventh of the following
August, and retired to one of his seats in the country.

The die was now cast. Essex considered his situation to
be despera-te, and that conceit effectually rendered it so. In
the beginning of the winter he returned to London, and his
house became not only the resort but the residence of the
idle, the profligate, and the disaffected of all ranks. Cuffe.

288 ROBERT DEVEREUX,

who had been his secretary in Ireland, a man of considerable
talents, rendered useless, or worse, like his own, by an impe-
tuous temper, undertook to execute his plans, if they deserved
to be so called. Few circumstances of our history are better
known than those which compose the sad sequel of Essex's
story. He seems to have conceived the extravagant, and
indeed utterly impracticable design of working simultane-
ously on the affection and the fears of Elizabeth. Declaring
his profound loyalty, and the most earnest personal regard.
he armed his little band professedly to force her to hear his
grievances, and to dismiss her servants. Terrified perhaps,
but still interested in his favour, instead of employing the
ample means to reduce him which were in her power, she
ordered that he should be summoned before her Council, and
he disobeyed. The next morning she sent the Lord Keeper,
the Lord Chief Justice, and others of the Council, to his
house, to receive his complaints, and he imprisoned them.
He then sallied forth, at the head of his adherents, and
sought ineffectually for volunteers in the city ; returned by
the river, and fortified his house ; and, when no means
remained to save him from the perdition to which he seemed
to have devoted himself, was at length proclaimed a traitor,
besieged, and taken prisoner. These strange circumstances
occurred on the seventh and eighth of February, 1601, N.S. ;
and on the nineteenth, he was brought to his trial before the
Peers, and condemned to die. Of his treason there could be
no doubt, for it had been committed in the sight of thou-
sands ; but for his motives, saving the simple impulses of a
most fiery and imprudent spirit, we can look only to his own
declaration, that his first object was to gain access to the
Queen's person, and his final view, to the establishment of
the succession in the King of Scots ; for the charge preferred
against him of a secret design to set up a claim to the crown
on his own part, in right of a remote maternal descent from
the House of York, is utterly incredible. The Queen was
anxious to the last to spare his life. Of the well known, but

EARL OF ESSEX. 289

weakly authenticated tale of the Countess of Nottingham,
and the ring, with which many writers have been fond of
amplifying the last scene of this tragedy, I will say nothing ;
we have otherwise sufficient proof that Elizabeth at length
gave way to the importunities of her ministers with the
utmost reluctance, and signed the warrant for his execution
amidst a dreadful conflict of tenderness, resentment, and
terror. He suffered death on the sixth day after his trial,
with a piety not less modest than fervid, and a magnanimity
at once calm and heroic.

Of all eminent historical characters, that of Essex has
generally been deemed the most difficult to be justly esti-
mated. Rare and singular indeed was its construction, but
surely not mysterious. The faults of those who deserve to
be called good and great usually spring from an exuberance
of fine qualities. All the errors of this extraordinary person
may be traced to the warmth of his heart, or the noble sim-
plicity of his mind ; to his courage, to his friendships, to hig
exact sense of honour, or hjs exalted love of truth. With
these virtues, joined to admirable talents, he was perhaps the
most unfit man living to be trusted with the direction of
important affairs, either civil or military, for his candour dis-
qualified him for the cabinet, and his rashness for the field.
He weighed the purity of his intentions against the motives
of other public servants with accuracy and justice, and the
disdain with which he proclaimed the result rendered them
his mortal, enemies ; but he rated his services, and perhaps
his powers, too highly ; and hence his frequent quarrels with
Elizabeth, the enormous extent of whose favour and bounty
he seems never to have considered as commensurate to his
deserts : his occasional insolence to that Princess was there-
fore the issue of pride, and not of ingratitude. His resent-
ments were marked by a petulance somewhat inconsistent
with genuine dignity, and his friendships were not always
worthily placed ; but he was not capricious, for his affections
and his aversions were unalterable, and he was incapable of

II U

290 ROBERT DEVEREUX,

disguising either sentiment : in following the dictates of the
one, his liberality knew no bounds ; in the gratification of
the other, his generosity was never sullied by a single instance
of private revenge. His domestic conduct seems to have been
unexceptionable. In his hours of retirement his impetuosity
was soothed by the consolations of sincere piety and con-
scious innocence ; by the love of his family, and his depend-
ants, who idolized him ; by the temperate charms of refined
conversation and reflection. In the humble sincerity of his
dying confession he had no moral offences to avow but cer-
tain amorous frailties of his youth.

His understanding was of the sort which usually accom-
panies acute feelings ; quick, penetrating, and versatile ;
admirable in its conceptions, but of uncertain execution ;
sometimes approaching, sometimes out-reaching, but seldom
resting at, that sober and wary point of judgment which in
worldly affairs is dignified by the title of wisdom. His
acquirements were infinitely varied and extended. It will
appear, on an examination of those of his writings which
have been fortunately left to us, that his studies, or rather
his perceptions, had embraced every usual object of human
science. His powers of expression were equal to the measure
of his knowledge : indeed he was incomparably the first
English prose writer of his time, and it has been lately dis-
covered that in Latin composition he fell nothing short of the
best classical models. The present age, too, busy in such
researches, has brought to light several poems, of various
characters, which reflect a new and unexpected lustre on his
genius. Such was the man, and so designed by nature to
inform, to improve, and to delight society, whom his own
ambition, and Elizabeth's folly, misplaced in the characters
of a statesman, a general, and a courtier.

On the extravagance of the Queen's attachment to this
nobleman and the motives by which it was dictated, it is
unnecessary here to dilate. Lord Orford, in his « Royal and
Xoble Authors," has treated at large of those matters, with

EARL OF ESSEX. 201

such acuteness of reasoning, and such extent of historical
knowledge, that any further endeavour to elucidate that
singular subject would be vain and presumptuous. I shall
therefore only add that the Earl of Essex married, as has
been before stated, Frances, daughter and heir of Sir Francis
Walsingham, and widow of Sir Philip Sidney, by whom he
had an only son, Robert, who was the last Earl of the family
of Devereux ; and two daughters ; Frances, married to
William Seymour, Earl of Hertford, afterwards Duke of
Somerset ; and Dorothy, wife, first to Sir Henry Shirley, of
Stanton Harold, in Leicestershire, Bart., secondly, to William
Stafford, of Blatherwick, in the county of Northampton.

LODGE, EDMUND.

Portraits of illustrious
personages, vol. 2

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