queen to call a parliament. Her procession to the house had something
gloomy and ominous; the people, still resenting the death of their
favorite, whom they never could be taught to regard as a traitor to his
sovereign, refused to gratify her ears as formerly with those
affectionate acclamations on which this wise and gracious princess had
ever placed so high a value. The house of commons however, in
consideration of her extraordinary expenses in the Irish wars, granted a
supply large beyond example. Having thus deserved well of her majesty,
they ventured to revive the topic of monopolies, the crying grievance of
the age, against which the former parliament had petitioned her, but
without effect. It was universally allowed, that the granting of
exclusive privileges to trade in certain articles was a prerogative
inherent in the crown; and though the practice so lavishly adopted by
Elizabeth of providing in this manner for her courtiers without expense
to herself, had rendered the evil almost intolerable, the ministerial
members insisted strongly that no right existed in the house to frame a
bill for its redress. It was maintained by them, that the dispensing
power possessed by the queen would enable her to set at nought any
statute which could be made in this matter;--in short, that she was an
absolute prince; and consequently that the mode of petition, of which
the last parliament had proved the inefficacy, was the only course of
proceeding open to them. Other members, in whose bosoms some sparks of
liberty had now been kindled, supported the bill which had been offered
to the house: the event was, that in the midst of the debate the queen
sent for the speaker, to inform him that she would voluntarily cancel
some of the patents which had excited most discontent.
This concession, though extorted doubtless by necessity, was yet made
with so good a grace, that her faithful commons were filled with
admiration and gratitude. One member pronounced the message "a gospel of
glad tidings;" others employed phrases of adulation equally profane;--a
committee was appointed to return their acknowledgements to her majesty,
who kneeled for some time at her feet, while the speaker enlarged upon
her "preventing grace and all-deserving goodness," She graciously gave
thanks to the commons for pointing out to her abuses which might
otherwise have escaped her notice; since the truth, as she observed, was
too often disguised from princes by the persons about them, through
motives of private interest: and thus, with the customary assurances of
her loving care over her loyal subjects, she skilfully accomplished her
retreat from a contest in which she judged perseverance to be dangerous
and final success at best uncertain. In her farewell speech, however,
at the close of the session, she could not refrain from observing, in
reference to this matter, that she perceived private respects to be
masked with them under public pretences. Such was the final parting
between Elizabeth and her last parliament!
The year 1602 was not fertile of domestic incident. One of the most
remarkable circumstances was a violent quarrel between the Jesuits
and the secular priests in England. The latter accused the former,
and not without reason, of having been the occasion, by their
assassination-plots and conspiracies against the queen and government,
of all the severe enactments under which the English catholics had
groaned since the fulmination of the papal bull against her majesty. In
the height of this dispute, intelligence was conveyed to the
privy-council of some fresh plots on the part of the Jesuits and their
adherents; on which a proclamation was immediately issued, banishing
this order the kingdom on pain of death; and the same penalty was
declared against all secular priests who should refuse to take the oath
of allegiance.
The queen continued to pursue from habit, and probably from policy also,
amusements for which all her relish was lost. She went a-maying to Air.
Buckley's at Lewisham, and paid several other visits in the course of
the year;--but her efforts were unavailing; the irrevocable past still
hung upon her spirits. About the beginning of June, in a conversation
with M. de Beaumont the French ambassador, she owned herself weary of
life; then sighing, whilst her eyes filled with tears, she adverted to
the death of Essex; and mentioned, that being apprehensive, from his
ambition and the impetuosity of his temper, of his throwing himself into
some rash design which would prove his ruin, she had repeatedly
counselled him, during the two last years, to content himself with
pleasing her, and forbear to treat her with the insolent contempt which
he had lately assumed; above all, not to touch her sceptre; lest she
should be compelled to punish him by the laws of England, and not
according to her own laws; which he had found too mild and favorable to
give him any cause of fear: but that her advice, however salutary and
affectionate, had proved ineffectual to prevent his ruin.
A letter from sir John Harrington to his lady, dated December 27th,
1602, gives the following melancholy picture of the state of his
sovereign and benefactress.
* * * * *
"Sweet Mall;
"I herewith send thee what I would God none did know, some ill-bodings
of the realm and its welfare. Our dear queen, my royal godmother and
this state's natural mother, doth now bear some show of human infirmity;
too fast, for that evil which we shall get by her death, and too slow,
for that good which she shall get by her releasement from pains and
misery. Dear Mall, how shall I speak what I have seen or what I have
felt? thy good silence in these matters emboldens my pen. For thanks to
the sweet God of silence, thy lips do not wanton out of discretion's
path like the many gossiping dames we could name, who lose their
husbands' fast hold in good friends rather than hold fast their own
tongues. Now I will trust thee with great assurance; and whilst thou
dost brood over thy young ones in the chamber, thou shalt read the
doings of thy grieving mate in the court. I find some less mindful of
what they are soon to lose, than of what they may perchance hereafter
get: Now, on my own part, I cannot blot from my memory's table the
goodness of our sovereign lady to me, even, I will say, before born. Her
affection to my mother, who waited in privy-chamber, her bettering the
state of my father's fortune (which I have, alas, so much worsted), her
watchings over my youth, her liking to my free speech and admiration of
my little learning and poesy, which I did so much cultivate on her
command, have rooted such love, such dutiful remembrance of her princely
virtues, that to turn askant from her condition with tearless eyes,
would stain and foul the spring and fount of gratitude. It was not many
days since I was bidden to her presence; I blessed the happy moment, and
found her in most pitiable state; she bade the archbishop ask me if I
had seen Tyrone? I replied with reverence, that I had seen him with the
lord deputy; she looked up with much choler and grief in her
countenance, and said: O! now it mindeth me that you was _one_ who saw
this man _elsewhere_[142], and hereat she dropped a tear and smote her
bosom; she held in her hand a golden cup, which she often put to her
lips; but in truth her heart seemeth too full to need more filling. This
sight moved me to think of what passed in Ireland, and I trust she did
not less think on _some_ who were busier there than myself. She gave me
a message to the lord deputy, and bade me come to the chamber at seven
o'clock. Hereat some who were about her did marvel, as I do not hold so
high place as those she did not choose to do her commands.... Her
majesty inquired of some matters which I had written; and as she was
pleased to note my fanciful brain, I was not unheedful to feed her
humour, and read some verses, whereat she smiled once, and was pleased
to say: 'When thou dost feel creeping time at thy gate, these fooleries
will please thee less; I am past my relish for such matters; thou seest
my bodily meat doth not suit me well; I have eaten but one ill-tasted
cake since yesternight.' She rated most grievously at noon at some one
who minded not to bring up certain matters of account: several men have
been sent to, and when ready at hand, her highness hath dismissed in
anger; but who, dearest Mall, shall say, that 'your highness hath
forgotten?'"
[Note 142: Harrington had been at a conference held with him by
Essex; for which he had been severely rated by the queen.]
* * * * *
During the campaign of 1602, lord Montjoy had been occupied in Ireland
in reducing the inferior rebels to submission; in building forts and
planting garrisons; at the same time wasting the country in every
direction, for the purpose of straitening the quarters of Tyrone and
cutting off his supplies. At length, having collected all his forces, he
purposed to hazard an attack on the chieftain himself, in the midst of
the desert fastnesses to which he had driven him; but the difficulties
which he experienced from the impassable state of the roads, the
treachery of scouts and the inclemency of the season, compelled him to
defer this undertaking till the return of spring. Meantime, such was the
extremity of distress to which Tyrone had been reduced, that numbers of
his people had perished by hunger; and perceiving the remnant fast
diminishing by daily desertion, he renewed the offer of surrender on
certain conditions which he had propounded some months before. At that
time, Cecil had once prevailed upon her majesty, for the sake of
avoiding the intolerable expense of a further prosecution of the Irish
war, to sign the rebel's pardon;--but she had immediately retracted the
concession, and all that he was able finally to gain of her, by the
intercession of the French ambassador, was a promise, that if Tyrone
were not taken by the lord deputy before winter, she would consent to
pardon him. About Christmas her council urged upon her the fulfilment of
this engagement; but she replied with warmth, that she would not begin
at her age to treat with her subjects, nor leave such an ill example
after her decease[143].
[Note 143: Carte.]
The importunities of her ministers, however, among whom Tyrone is said
to have made himself friends, finally overpowered the reluctance of the
queen; and she authorized the deputy to grant the rebel his life, with
some part of the terms which he asked; but so extreme was her
mortification in making this concession, that many have regarded it as
the origin of that deep melancholy to which she soon after fell a
victim. The council apprehended, or affected to apprehend, that Tyrone
would still refuse to surrender on the hard conditions imposed by the
queen; but so desperate was now his situation, that without even waiting
to receive them, he had thrown himself at the feet of the deputy and
submitted his lands and life to the queen's mercy. Ministers more
resolute, or more disinterested, might therefore have spared her the
degradation, as she regarded it, of treating with a rebel. The news of
his final submission, which occurred four days only before her death,
she never learned.
* * * * *
The closing scene of the long and eventful life of queen Elizabeth is
all that now remains to be described; but that marked peculiarity of
character and of destiny which has attended her from the cradle, pursues
her to the grave, and forbids us to hurry over as trivial and
uninteresting the melancholy detail.
Notwithstanding the state of bodily and mental indisposition in which
she was beheld by Harrington at the close of the year 1602, the queen
had persisted in taking her usual exercises of riding and hunting,
regardless of the inclemencies of the season. One day in January she
visited the lord admiral, probably at Chelsea, and about the same time
she removed to her palace of Richmond.
In the beginning of March her illness suddenly increased; and it was
about this time that her kinsman Robert Cary arrived from Berwick to
visit her. In his own memoirs he has thus related the circumstances
which he witnessed on this occasion.
"When I came to court I found the queen ill-disposed, and she kept her
inner lodging; yet she, hearing of my arrival, sent for me. I found her
in one of her withdrawing chambers, sitting low upon her cushions. She
called me to her; I kissed her hand, and told her it was my chiefest
happiness to see her in safety and in health, which I wished might long
continue. She took me by the hand, and wrung it hard, and said, 'No,
Robin, I am not well;' and then discoursed with me of her indisposition,
and that her heart had been sad and heavy for ten or twelve days, and in
her discourse she fetched not so few as forty or fifty great sighs. I
was grieved at the first to see her in this plight; for in all my
lifetime I never knew her fetch a sigh, but when the queen of Scots was
beheaded. Then, upon my knowledge, she shed many tears and sighs,
manifesting her innocence, that she never gave consent to the death of
that queen.
"I used the best words I could to persuade her from this melancholy
humour; but I found by her it was too deep rooted in her heart, and
hardly to be removed. This was upon a Saturday night, and she gave
command that the great closet should be prepared for her to go to chapel
the next morning. The next day, all things being in a readiness, we long
expected her coming. After eleven o'clock, one of the grooms came out
and bade make ready for the private closet, she would not go to the
great. There we stayed long for her coming, but at last she had cushions
laid for her in her privy-chamber hard by the closet door, and there she
heard service.
"From that day forward she grew worse and worse. She remained upon her
cushions four days and nights at the least. All about her could not
persuade her either to take any sustenance or go to bed.... The queen
grew worse and worse because she would be so, none about her being able
to go to bed. My lord-admiral was sent for, (who by reason of my
sister's death, that was his wife, had absented himself some fortnight
from court;) what by fair means what by force, he gat her to bed. There
was no hope of her recovery, because she refused all remedies.
"On Wednesday the 23rd of March she grew speechless. That afternoon by
signs she called for her council, and by putting her hand to her head
when the king of Scots was named to succeed her, they all knew he was
the man she desired should reign after her.
"About six at night she made signs for the archbishop and her chaplains
to come to her; at which time I went in with them and sat upon my knees
full of tears to see that heavy sight. Her majesty lay upon her back
with one hand in the bed and the other without. The bishop kneeled down
by her and examined her first of her faith; and she so punctually
answered all his several questions, by lifting up her eyes and holding
up her hand, as it was a comfort to all the beholders.... After he had
continued long in prayer, till the old man's knees were weary, he
blessed her; and meant to rise and leave her. The queen made a sign with
her hand. My sister Scrope, knowing her meaning, told the bishop the
queen desired he would pray still. He did so for a long half hour after,
and then thought to leave her. The second time she made sign to have him
continue in prayer. He did so for half an hour more, with earnest cries
to God for her soul's health, which he uttered with that fervency of
spirit, as the queen to all our sight much rejoiced thereat, and gave
testimony to us all of her christian and comfortable end. By this time
it grew late, and every one departed, all but her women that attended
her.... Between one and two o'clock of the Thursday morning, he that I
left in the cofferer's chamber brought me word that the queen was dead."
A Latin letter written the day after her death to Edmund Lambert,
whether by one of her physicians or not is uncertain, gives an account
of her sickness in no respect contradictory to Robert Cary's.
"It was after laboring for nearly three weeks under a morbid melancholy,
which brought on stupor not unmixed with some indications of a
disordered fancy, that the queen expired. During all this time she could
neither by reasoning, entreaties, or artifices be brought to make trial
of any medical aid, and with difficulty was persuaded to receive
sufficient nourishment to sustain nature; taking also very little sleep,
and that not in bed, but on cushions, where she would sit whole days
motionless and sleepless; retaining however the vigor of her intellect
to her last breath, though deprived for three days before her death of
the power of speech."
Another contemporary writes to his friend thus.... "No doubt you shall
hear her majesty's sickness and manner of death diversly reported; for
even here the papists do tell strange stories, as utterly void of truth
as of all civil honesty or humanity.... Here was some whispering that
her brain was somewhat distempered, but there was no such matter; only
she held an obstinate silence for the most part; and, because she had a
persuasion that if she once lay down she should never rise, could not be
got to go to bed in a whole week, till three days before her death....
She made no will, neither gave any thing away; so that they which come
after shall find a well-furnished jewel-house and a rich wardrobe of
more than two thousand gowns, with all things else answerable[144]."
[Note 144: Printed in Nichols's Progresses.]
That a profound melancholy was either the cause, or at least a leading
symptom, of the last illness of the queen, so many concurring
testimonies render indisputable; but the origin of this affection has
been variously explained. Some, as we have seen, ascribed it to her
chagrin on being in a manner compelled to grant the pardon of Tyrone;--a
cause disproportioned surely to the effect. Others have imagined it to
arise from grief and indignation at the neglect which she began to
experience from the venal throng of courtiers, who were hastening to pay
timely homage to her successor. By others, again, her dejection has
been regarded as nothing more than a natural concomitant of bodily
decay; a physical rather than a mental malady. But the prevalent
opinion, even at the time, appears to have been, that the grief or
compunction for the death of Essex, with which she had long maintained a
secret struggle, broke forth in the end superior to control, and rapidly
completed the overthrow of powers which the advances of old age and an
accumulation of cares and anxieties had already undermined. "Our queen,"
writes an English correspondent to a Scotch nobleman in the service of
James, "is troubled with a rheum in her arm, which vexeth her very much,
besides the grief she hath conceived for my lord of Essex's death. She
sleepeth not so much by day as she used, neither taketh rest by night.
Her delight is to sit in the dark, and sometimes, with shedding tears,
to bewail Essex."
A remarkable anecdote first published in Osborn's Traditional Memoirs of
Queen Elizabeth, and confirmed by M. Maurier's Memoirs,--where it is
given on the authority of sir Dudley Carleton the English ambassador in
Holland, who related it to prince Maurice,--offers the solution of these
doubts. According to this story, the countess of Nottingham, who was a
relation, but no friend, of the earl of Essex, being on her death-bed,
entreated to see the queen; declaring that she had something to confess
to her before she could die in peace. On her majesty's arrival, the
countess produced a ring, which she said the earl of Essex had sent to
her after his condemnation, with an earnest request that she would
deliver it to the queen, as the token by which he implored her mercy;
but which, in obedience to her husband, to whom she had communicated the
circumstance, she had hitherto withheld; for which she entreated the
queen's forgiveness. On sight of the ring, Elizabeth instantly
recognised it as one which she had herself presented to her unhappy
favorite on his departure for Cadiz, with the tender promise, that of
whatsoever crimes his enemies might have accused him, or whatsoever
offences he might actually have committed against her, on his returning
to her that pledge, she would either pardon him, or admit him at least
to justify himself in her presence. Transported at once with grief and
rage, on learning the barbarous infidelity of which the earl had been
the victim and herself the dupe, the queen shook in her bed the dying
countess, and vehemently exclaiming, that God might forgive her, but she
never could, flung out of the chamber.
Returning to her palace, she surrendered herself without resistance to
the despair which seized her heart on this fatal and too late
disclosure.--Hence her refusal of medicine and almost of food;--hence
her obstinate silence interrupted only by sighs, groans, and broken
hints of a deep sorrow which she cared not to reveal;--hence the days
and nights passed by her seated on the floor, sleepless, her eyes fixed
and her finger pressed upon her mouth;--hence, in short, all those
heart-rending symptoms of incurable and mortal anguish which conducted
her, in the space of twenty days, to the lamentable termination of a
long life of power, prosperity and glory[145].
[Note 145: See the evidence for this extraordinary story fully
stated in Birch's Negotiations. On the whole, it appears sufficient to
warrant our belief; yet it should be remarked that the accounts which
have come down to us differ from each other in some important points,
and are traceable to no original witness of the interview between the
queen and the countess.]
* * * * *
The queen expired on March 24th 1603.
* * * * *
After the minute and extended survey of the life and actions of
Elizabeth which has made the principal business of these pages, it would
be a trespass alike on the patience and the judgement of the reader to
detain him with a formal review of her character;--let it suffice to
complete the portrait by a few additional touches.
The ceremonial of her court rivalled the servility of the East: no
person of whatever rank ventured to address her otherwise than kneeling;
and this attitude was preserved by all her ministers during their
audiences of business, with the exception of Burleigh, in whose favor,
when aged and infirm, she dispensed with its observance. Hentzner, a
German traveller who visited England near the conclusion of her reign,
relates, that as she passed through several apartments from the chapel
to dinner, wherever she turned her eyes he observed the spectators throw
themselves on their knees. The same traveller further relates, that the
officers and ladies whose business it was to arrange the dishes and give
tastes of them to the yeomen of the guard by whom they were brought in,
did not presume to approach the royal table, without repeated
prostrations and genuflexions and every mark of reverence due to her
majesty in person.
The appropriation of her time and the arrangements of her domestic life
present more favorable traits.
"First in the morning she spent some time at her devotions; then she
betook herself to the dispatch of her civil affairs, reading letters,
ordering answers, considering what should be brought before the council,
and consulting with her ministers. When she had thus wearied herself,
she would walk in a shady garden or pleasant gallery, without any other
attendance than that of a few learned men. Then she took her coach and
passed in the sight of her people to the neighbouring groves and fields,
and sometimes would hunt or hawk. There was scarce a day but she
employed some part of it in reading and study; sometimes before she
entered upon her state affairs, sometimes after them[146]."
[Note 146: Bohun's Character of Queen Elizabeth.]
She slept little, seldom drank wine, was sparing in her diet, and a
religious observer of the fasts. She sometimes dined alone, but more
commonly had with her some of her friends. "At supper she would divert
herself with her friends and attendants, and if they made her no answer
would put them upon mirth and pleasant discourse with great civility.
She would then also admit Tarleton, a famous comedian and pleasant
talker, and other such men, to divert her with stories of the town and
the common jests and accidents."
"She would recreate herself with a game of chess, dancing or singing....
She would often play at cards and tables, and if at any time she
happened to win, she would be sure to demand the money.... She was
waited on in her bed-chamber by married ladies of the nobility; the
marchioness of Winchester widow, lady Warwick, and lady Scrope; and here
she would seldom suffer any to wait upon her but Leicester, Hatton,
Essex, Nottingham, and Raleigh.... Some lady always slept in her
chamber; and besides her guards, there was always a gentleman of good
quality and some others up in the next chamber, to wake her if any thing
extraordinary happened[147]."
[Note 147: Bohun's Character of Queen Elizabeth.]
"She loved a prudent and moderate habit in her private apartment and
conversation with her own servants; but when she appeared in public she
was ever richly adorned with the most valuable clothes; set off again
with much gold and jewels of inestimable value; and on such occasions
she ever wore high shoes, that she might seem taller than indeed she
was. The first day of the parliament she would appear in a robe
embroidered with pearls, the royal crown on her head, the golden ball in
her left hand and the sceptre in her right; and as she never failed then
of the loud acclamations of her people, so she was ever pleased with
it, and went along in a kind of triumph with all the ensigns of majesty.
The royal name was ever venerable to the English people; but this
queen's name was more sacred than any of her ancestors.... In the
furniture of her palaces she ever affected magnificence and an
extraordinary splendor. She adorned the galleries with pictures by the
best artists; the walls she covered with rich tapestries. She was a true
lover of jewels, pearls, all sorts of precious stones, gold and silver
plate, rich beds, fine couches and chariots, Persian and Indian carpets,
statues, medals, &c. which she would purchase at great prices.
Hampton-court was the most richly furnished of all her palaces; and here
she had caused her naval victories against the Spaniards to be worked in
fine tapestries and laid up among the richest pieces of her wardrobe....
When she made any public feasts, her tables were magnificently served
and many side-tables adorned with rich plate. At these times many of the
nobility waited on her at table. She made the greatest displays of her
regal magnificence when foreign ambassadors were present. At these times
she would also have vocal and instrumental music during dinner; and
after dinner, dancing[148]."
[Note 148: Bohun's Character of Queen Elizabeth.]
The queen was laudably watchful over the morals of her court; and not
content with dismissing from her service, or banishing her presence,
such of her female attendants as were found offending against the laws
of chastity, she was equitable enough to visit with marks of her
displeasure the libertinism of the other sex; and in several instances
she deferred the promotion of otherwise deserving young men till she saw
them reform their manners in this respect. Europe had assuredly never
beheld a court so decent, so learned, or so accomplished as hers; and it
will not be foreign from the purpose of illustrating more fully the
character of the sovereign, to borrow from a contemporary writer a few
particulars on this head.
It was rare to find a courtier acquainted with no language but his own.
The ladies studied Latin, Greek, Spanish, Italian, and French. The "more
ancient" among them exercised themselves some with the needle, some with
"_caul work_," (probably netting) "divers in spinningsilk, some in
continual reading either of the Scriptures or of histories either of
their own or foreign countries; divers in writing volumes of their own,
or translating the works of others into Latin or English;" while the
younger ones in the meantime applied to their "lutes, citharnes,
pricksong and all kinds of music." Many of the elder sort were also
"skilful in surgery and distillation of waters, beside sundry artificial
practices pertaining to the ornature and commendations of their bodies."
"This," adds our author, "I will generally say of them all; that as each
of them are cunning in something whereby they keep themselves occupied
in the court, there is in manner none of them but when they be at home
can help to supply the ordinary want of the kitchen with a number of
delicate dishes of their own devising, wherein the _portingal_ is their
chief counsellor, as some of them are most commonly with the clerk of
the kitchen," &c.
"Every office," at court, had "either a Bible or the book of the Acts
and Monuments of the Church of England, or both, besides some histories
and chronicles lying therein, for the exercise of such as come into the
same[149]."
[Note 149: Description of England prefixed to Holinshed's
Chronicles.]
Such was the scene over which Elizabeth presided;--such the companions
whom she formed to herself, and in whom she delighted! The new men and
new manners brought in by James I. served more fully to instruct the
nation in the value of all that it had enjoyed under his illustrious
predecessor, the vigor which had rendered her government respectable
abroad; and the wise and virtuous moderation which caused it to beloved
at home, were now recalled with that sense of irreparable loss which
exalts to enthusiasm the sentiment of veneration and the principle of
gratitude; and almost in the same proportion as the sanguinary bigotry
of her predecessor had occasioned her accession to be desired, the
despicable weakness of her successor caused her decease to be regretted
and deplored.
It was on the tenth anniversary of the proclamation of king James that
the eloquent Hall, in his sermon at Paul's Cross, gave utterance to the
general sentiment in the following animated apostrophe to the manes of
the departed sovereign:
* * * * *
"O blessed queen! the mother of this nation, the nurse of this church,
the glory of womanhood, the envy and example of foreign nations, the
wonder of times, how sweet and sacred shall thy memory be to all
posterity!--How excellent were her masculine graces of learning, valor
and wisdom, by which she might justly challenge to be the queen of men!
So learned was she, that she could give present answer to ambassadors in
their own tongues; so valiant, that like Zisca's drum made the proudest
Romanist to quake; so wise, that whatsoever fell out happily against the
common adversary in France, Netherland, Ireland, it was by themselves
ascribed to her policy.
"Why should I speak of her long and successful government, of her
miraculous preservations; of her famous victories, wherein the waters,
wind, fire and earth fought for us, as if they had been in pay under
her; of her excellent laws and careful execution? Many daughters have
done worthily, but thou surmountedest them all. Such was the sweetness
of her government and such the fear of misery in her loss, that many
worthy christians desired that their eyes might be closed before
hers.... Every one pointed to her white hairs, and said, with that
peaceable Leontius, "When this snow melteth there will be a flood."
* * * * *
In the progress of the preceding work, I have inserted some incidental
notices respecting the domestic architecture of the reign of Elizabeth;
but becoming gradually sensible of the interesting details of which the
subject was susceptible and entirely aware of my own inability to do it
justice, I solicited, and esteem myself fortunate in having procured,
the following remarks from the pen of a brother who makes this noble art
at once his profession and his delight.
ON THE DOMESTIC ARCHITECTURE
OF
The Reign of Elizabeth.
DURING the period of English history included in our present survey, the
nobility continued for the most part to inhabit their ancient castles;
edifices which, originally adapted by strength of situation and
construction merely to defence, were now in many instances, by the
alteration of the original buildings and by the accession of additional
ones, become splendid palaces. Among these it may be sufficient to
mention Kennelworth, renowned for gorgeous festivities, where the earl
of Leicester was reported to have expended 60,000 pounds in buildings.
Some curious notices of the habitations of the time are preserved in
Leland's Itinerary, written about 1535, as in the following description
of Wresehill-castle near Howden in Yorkshire:--'Most part of the base
court is of timber. The castle is moted about on three parts; the fourth
part is dry, where the entry is into the castle. Five towers, one at
each corner; the gateway is the fifth, having five lodgings in height;
three of the other towers have four lodgings in height; the fourth
containeth the buttery, pantry, pastry, lardery, and kitchen. In one of
the towers a study called Paradise, where was a closet in the middle of
eight squares latticed; about and at the top of every square was a desk
lodged to set books on, &c. The garde robe in the castle was exceeding
fair, and so were the gardens within the mote and the orchards without;
and in the orchards were mounts _opere topiario_ writhen about with
degrees like turnings of a cockle-shell, to come to top without pain.'
These castles, though converted into dwellings of some convenience and
magnificence, still retained formidable strength, which was proved in
the following century, when so many of them sustained sieges for the
king or parliament and were finally dilapidated.
Besides the regularly fortified castles, there were many mansion-houses
of inferior importance, which, though not capable of resisting a regular
siege, were strengthened against a tumultuous or hasty invasion. These
houses generally formed a square of building enclosing a court and
surrounded by a moat. A drawbridge formed the only access, which was
protected by an embattled gatehouse. One side of the square was
principally occupied by a great hall; and the offices and lodgings were
distributed on the other sides. Oxburgh-hall in Norfolk and Layer Marney
in Essex are fine examples of these houses. They were frequently of
timber, as Moreton-hall in Cheshire, Speke-hall near Liverpool. Leland
describes Morley-house near Manchester as 'builded,--saving the
foundation of stone squared that riseth within a great mote a 6 foot
above the water,--all of timber, after the common sort of building of
the gentlemen for most of Lancashire.' Sometimes a strong tower was
added at one corner as a citadel, which might be maintained when the
rest of the house was destroyed. This is the case with the curious house
of Stoke Say in Shropshire, where the situation near the Welsh border
might render such an additional security desirable.
Thus the forms of ancient fortification were continued awhile rather
from habit or ostentation than from any more important motives; but in
the new buildings erected during the reign of Elizabeth and her
successor they were finally laid aside. In some stately houses, though
the show of strength was discontinued, the general form remained however
the same. The circuit of building was entire, and enclosed one or more
courts; a gateway formed the entrance, and the great hall was placed at
the opposite side of the first court. Such was Audley End, in its
original state one of the largest and most sumptuous houses in the
kingdom. In other instances the house assumes the half H shape, with the
offices placed in the wings; and the circuit is only completed by
terraces and low walls; the gatehouse remains as a detached lodge, or is
entirely omitted: examples of this form are numerous; as Holland-house
at Kensington, Oxnead and Blickling halls in Norfolk, Beaudesert and
Wimbledon-house, built by sir Thomas Cecil in 1588, remarkable for a
great ascent of steps and terraces disposed in a manner resembling some
Italian villas. In others the offices are detached in separate masses,
or concealed, or placed in a basement story; and only the body of the
house remains, either as a solid mass or enclosing small courts: this
disposition does not differ from the most modern arrangements. Of these
houses Longleat in Wiltshire and Wollaton near Nottingham are fine
examples[150].
[Note 150: Views of most of the buildings here mentioned may be
found in Britton's Architectural Antiquities, vols. i. ii. and iv.]
The distribution of domestic buildings is well illustrated in the Survey
of Theobald's taken by the Parliament's Commissioners in 1650[151]. This
mansion was built by lord Burleigh about 1560: it afterwards became a
favourite residence of James I. who received it from lord Salisbury in
exchange for the manor and palace of Hatfield. The Survey contains a
very minute and accurate description of Theobald's palace, from which
the following account is given partly in the words of the old
surveyors.--It consisted of two principal quadrangles besides the dial
court, the buttery court and the dove-house court, in which the offices
were situated. The fountain court was a square of 86 feet, on the east
side of which was a cloister of seven arches. On the ground floor of
this quadrangle was a spacious hall; the roof of which was arched with
carved timber of curious workmanship. On the same floor were the lord
Holland's, the marquis of Hamilton's, and lord Salisbury's apartments,
the council chamber and waiting room. On the second floor was the
presence chamber, finished with carved oak wainscoting and a ceiling
full of gilded pendants. Also the privy chamber, the withdrawing room,
the king's bed-chamber, and a gallery 123 feet long, 'wainscoted with
oak, and paintings over the same of divers cities, rarely painted and
set forth with a fret ceiling, with divers pendants, roses and
flower-de-luces; also divers large stags heads, which were an excellent
ornament to the same.' On the upper floor were the lord chamberlain's
lodgings and several other apartments, with terrace walks on the leads.
At each corner stood a high and fair tower, and over the hall in the
middle 'a large and fair turret in the fashion of a lantern, curiously
wrought with divers pinnacles at each corner, wherein hangeth 12 bells
for chiming and a clock with chimes and sundry work.' The middle court
was a quadrangle of 110 feet square, on the south side of which were the
queen's chapel, presence chamber, and other apartments. The prince's
lodgings were on the north side; on the east side was a cloister, over
which was the green gallery, 109 feet by 12 feet, 'excellently well
painted with the several shires in England and the arms of the noblemen
and gentlemen in the same.' Over the gallery was a leaded walk, on which
were two lofty arches of brick, 'of no small ornament to the house, and
rendering it comely and pleasant to all that passed by.' On the west
side of the quadrangle was another cloister, on five arches, over which
were the duke's lodgings and over them the queen's gallery. On the south
side of the house stood a large open cloister, built upon several large
fair pillars, arched over 'with a fair rail and ballustres; well painted
with the kings and queens of England and the pedigree of the old lord
Burleigh and divers other ancient families; with paintings of many
castles and battles.' The gardens at Theobald's were large, and
ornamented with labyrinths, canals and fountains. The great garden
contained seven acres; besides which there were the pheasant garden,
privy garden, and laundry garden. In the former were nine knots
artificially and exquisitely made, one of which was set forth in
likeness of the king's arms. This description, and Bacon's idea of a
palace in his 45th Essay, with their numerous cloisters, galleries and
turrets, are well illustrated by the plan of Audley End, in its original
state, given in Britton's _Architectural Antiquities_, vol. ii.
[Note 151: Lysons's Environs of London, vol. iv.]
The houses erected during the sixteenth and the early part of the
seventeenth century were frequently of magnificent dimensions,
picturesque from the varied lines and projections of the plan and
elevation, and rich by the multiplicity of parts; but they had lost all
beauty of detail. The builders, having abandoned the familiar and long
practised Gothic style, were now to serve their apprenticeship in
Grecian architecture: 'stately Doricke and neat Ionicke work' were
introduced as fashionable novelties, employed first in the porches and
frontispieces and gradually extended over the whole fronts of buildings.
Among the architects employed at this period some foreign names occur.
Holbein was much favoured by Henry VIII., and gave various designs for
buildings at the old palaces of Whitehall and St. James. John of Padua
had a salary as deviser of his majesty's buildings, and was employed to
build the palace of the protector Somerset. Jerome de Trevisi is also
mentioned; and it is said that the designs for Longleat and a model of
Audley End were obtained from Italy. The last circumstance is altogether
extraordinary; this was the very best period of Italian architecture,
and it seems highly improbable that semi-barbarous designs should
proceed from the country of Palladio and Vignola. Thorpe, Smithson, and
other Englishmen, were also eminent builders; and probably these persons
might have travelled, and thus have gained the imperfect knowledge of
Grecian architecture which appears in their works. They were immediately
followed by Inigo Jones, who formed his style particularly on the works
of Palladio, and became the founder of classic architecture in this
country.
There is a remarkable and beautiful analogy between the progress of
Grecian and Gothic architecture, in both of which we find, that while
the powers of decoration were extended, the process of construction was
improved and simplified. Thus the Doric, the primitive order, is full of
difficulties in its arrangement, which render it only applicable to
simple plans and to buildings where the internal distribution is of
inferior consequence. The Ionic, though more ornamental, is by the
suppression of the divisions in the frieze so simplified as to be
readily applicable to more complicated arrangements: still the capital
presents difficulties from the dissimilarity of the front and sides;
which objection is finally obviated by the introduction of that rich and
exquisite composition, the Corinthian capital. Thus is obtained an order
of the most elegant and ornamented character, but possessing a happy
simplicity and regularity of composition which renders it more easy of
application than any other. In like manner in the later, which has been
called the florid style of Gothic architecture, there are buildings
astonishingly rich and elaborate; but we find this excess of ornament
supported and rendered practicable by a principle of simplicity in
design and construction. In the earlier and middle styles of Gothic
there are various difficulties of execution and some faults of
composition: such as the slender detached shafts, the richly carved
capitals, the flowing and varied tracery of windows, and that profuse
variety in detail which frequently causes all the windows, capitals,
buttresses and pinnacles of the same buildings to differ from one
another. But the later style has more uniformity in corresponding parts;
the capitals are very generally composed of plain mouldings, and the
divisions of the windows consist chiefly of horizontal and perpendicular
lines, with few of the beautiful and difficult combinations of curves
which are found in the preceding style. The general principle of
decoration is to leave no plain surface, but to divide the whole into a
series of pannelling; by which is produced an extraordinary richness of
effect, though the parts, when examined separately, are generally of
simple forms and such as will admit of an easy and mechanical execution.
The introduction of the four-centred arch enlarged the powers of design,
enabled architects in many instances to proportion better the vault to
the upright, and even to introduce vaults where they would have been
inapplicable in the former style, on account of the want of elevation in
rooms; as in the divinity school at Oxford. Without concurring in the
ignorant wonder which has raised the vaulted ceilings of this style to
the rank of mysteries, we may admire the ingenuity which has rendered
real simplicity of construction the foundation of beautiful forms and of
the most elaborate decoration. The most celebrated examples of this
style are so highly finished, so exuberant in ornament, that the term
_florid_ has been applied as a characteristic epithet for the style; but
there are many instances of very simple and unornamented buildings of
the same period agreeing in all the essential principles of construction
and design; and a late writer has with more propriety adopted the term
_perpendicular_ for this mode of architecture. This later Gothic, easy
of construction and possessing a variety of character applicable to
every kind of building, is well adapted for modern imitation.
But the power of mutability was at work, and Gothic architecture was
doomed to fall. The first step towards its decline was pursuing to
excess the principle of simplification and retrenching the most
essential ornaments. The large windows of houses were merely divided by
horizontal and upright bars, and, deprived of tracery and feathering,
were as void of beauty in the details as in the general proportions;
buttresses and battlements were generally omitted. A great deterioration
took place in the decorative part; the ornamental pannels and freizes
of the Gothic style, consisting of geometrical combinations of circles
and straight lines, had always a distinct outline and a sharpness of
effect which contrasted agreeably with the foliage so often intermixed;
but these were succeeded by strange grotesque combinations, confused,
and void of outline and regularity. The source of ornament was now
sought in the orders and members of Grecian architecture; but the eyes
which had been accustomed to the Gothic flutter of parts, were not
prepared to relish the simplicity of line which is essential to the
beauty of the Greek style. Columns of a small size, inaccurately and
coarsely executed, with arcades and grotesque caryatids, formed the
ornaments of porches and frontispieces,--as at Browseholme-house in
Yorkshire, Wimbledon, and the Schools-tower at Oxford,--or were spread
over the whole front and formed the cloisters and galleries in which
those ancient mansions abounded; as at Holland-house, Longleat,
Wollaton, Audley End, Longford-castle, &c. The roofs were either faced
with notched and curved gables, or screened by parapets of ballustres or
latticed work and decorated with obelisks and columnar chimney shafts;
while turrets and pavilions broke the line of elevation. The windows
were very large, and frequently bowed: thus Bacon remarks, in the Essay
before referred to, that 'you shall have sometimes fair houses so full
of glass that one cannot tell where to become to be out of the sun or
cold.' In wooden houses and particularly town houses, the upper stories
generally projected beyond the lower, with windows extremely wide, so as
to occupy almost the whole line of front. The timbers were frequently
left bare, carved and disposed in forms of pannelling; while the various
projections were supported by grotesque figures. Very curious houses of
this character are still found in several old towns, as Chester,
Shrewsbury, Coventry, and the obscure parts of London; though natural
decay, fire and modern improvements, are continually diminishing their
number. Among interior decorations, chimney-pieces were very
conspicuous: they were miniature frontispieces, consisting, like the
porches of the houses, of a mass of columns, arches, niches and
caryatids, piled up to the ceiling. Of these there is one at the old
Tabley-hall in Cheshire singularly rude and grotesque, though dated so
late as 1619, containing a hunting-piece and the figures of Lucrece and
Cleopatra. Another in queen Elizabeth's gallery at Windsor Castle is
very rich, and comparatively pure and elegant in design. The sepulchral
monuments of this age are very numerous, but only differ from those of
an earlier date in the substitution of the members of Grecian for those
of Gothic architecture, or rather in the confused mixture of both.
On the whole, this, though a glorious period for literature, was lost
for the fine arts. The incongruous mixture of the conflicting principles
of Grecian and Gothic architecture produced buildings more truly
barbarous, more disgusting to a cultivated taste, than the rudest Norman
work. Together with the architectural orders, our artists had received
models and authorities for the grotesque style, which they were but too
ready to follow. This extraordinary style of ornament had prevailed in
ancient Rome early enough to be reprobated in the work of Vitruvius, and
lay unobserved among obscure and subterraneous ruins till the discovery
of the Baths of Titus opened a rich magazine of gay and capricious
ornament. Raffaelle, struck with these remains of the antique art of
painting, adopted the same style of ornament in the galleries of the
Vatican, enriching and enlivening it with the stores of allegory and
mythology furnished by his poetical fancy. The example of such a man
could not want imitators; it influenced the whole architecture of
France,--which very early possessed artists of great merit,--and
appeared in this country with very inferior effect. It may well be
imagined that this style, naturally licentious and only rendered
tolerable by grace of composition and brilliancy of execution, would
become utterly contemptible when presenting only coarsely executed and
unmeaning extravagances. Such was the general character of art. We may
however make discriminations, and admit comparative merit.
Wimbledon-house, seated on the side of a hill, was remarkable for a
magnificent disposition of steps and terraces worthy an Italian villa.
Wollaton-hall is admired by Mr. Price for the grandeur of its masses.
Charlton-house has a very picturesque arrangement of heights in the
elevation; Longleat, on the other hand, has much simplicity of form. In
its square projections and three orders of columns, or pilasters, it
bears no remote resemblance to the ancient part of the Louvre built
about thirty years previously, though without the purity and delicacy of
the details of the architecture and sculpture which distinguish the
French building.
EDMUND AIKIN.
Liverpool, February 10, 1818.
INDEX.
Alencon, duke of, II 22. 56.
created duke of Anjou, 71.
visits the queen, ib.
His second visit, 98 et seq
death, 103.
Anjou, duke of, 451. II. 11.
_See_ Alencon.
Anne of Cleves, 48. 49. 52. 53. 133.
Arragon, Catherine of, 3. 15.
Arundel, sir Thomas, case of, II. 370.
Ascham, Roger, extracts from his Latin letters, 92 et seq, 97, 98, 99 et seq.
Ashley, Mrs. 194.
Aston, sir Roger, II. 414.
Aylmer or Elmer (bishop), on the dress of Elizabeth, 98. 99. II. 65.
B.
Babington, Anthony, II. 166. 168.
Bacon, sir Nicholas, 257.
Employed in the settlement of religion, 320.
In disgrace, 366 and 7. II. 81 et seq.
----, Anthony, II. 86. 343.
----, Francis, II. 83. 337. 339 to 343. 346 to 350.
His letter to the earl of Essex, 380.
Speeches written by, 385.
Base conduct of, 434.
Beddingfield, sir II. 171. 174. 176. 177.
Bertie, Peregrine, lord Willoughby, II. 117. 119. 120.
Letter to, from the queen, II. 357.
Blount, sir Charles, lord Montjoy,
II. 221. 256 et seq. 351. 427 and 8. 464. 482. 490.
Boleyn, Thomas, earl of Wilts, 10.
Boleyn, Anne, 2, 3, and 4.
Conduct respecting queen Catherine, 16.
Disgrace, 16. 17.
Conduct as affecting her daughter, 19 et seq.
Bonner, bishop, 148. 150. 183.
Bourchier family, 49. 50.
----, Henry, earl of Essex, 7.
Brandon, Charles, duke of Suffolk, 9. II. 117 et seq.
----, Catherine, duchess dowager of Suffolk, 117.
Brantome, M. de, description of the court of Elizabeth, 337.
Brown, Anthony, viscount Montacute, 286.
Brown, Robert, II. 108.
Bryan, lady, her letter respecting Elizabeth, 21.
C.
Cabot, Sebastian, 444-6.
Cambridge, the queen's visit to, 368.
Cary, Henry, lord Hunsdon, 243. 387.
----, Robert, II. 315. 493.
Casimir, duke, 375. 376. II. 66.
Cavendish, Thomas, II. 307.
Cecil, Mildred, 95. 96. 127.
----, William, lord Burleigh, 96. 233.
Account of, 234.
Employed in the settlement of religion, 320.
Takes precaution against the poisoning of the queen, 344.
Draws a proclamation respecting portraits of the queen, 362.
Directs her reception at Cambridge, 368 et seq.
Letters of, to sir H. Norris, 417. 452 et seq.
Attempt made to ruin him, 463, 4, and 5.
His advice to the duke of Norfolk, 467.
Created lord Burleigh, II. 4.
Letter to the earl of Shrewsbury, 34.
Character compared with sir N. Bacon's, II. 82.
Anecdote of, 87.
Discussions with Whitgift, 112 et seq.
Anger of the queen against, 186.
Restored to favor, 193.
Warning to Essex, 405.
Death and character of, 406.
Cecil, sir Thomas, II. 220.
Cecil, sir Robert, II. 221. 285. 372.
Appointed secretary, 378. 401. 478.
Chaloner, sir Thomas, 287.
His letter respecting the queen and lord R. Dudley, 289.
Chancellor, Richard, 445 and 6.
Charles IX. of France, a suitor to Elizabeth, 392. II. 24. 26.
Cheke, sir John, 154. 222.
Classical literature, decline of, 198.
Clifford, George, earl of Cumberland, II. 214. 259.
Cook, sir Anthony, 154.
Courtney, W., marquis of Exeter, 7. 43. 44
----, Edward, earl of Devon, 133. 137. 162. 184 and 5.
Cox, bishop, 154. 361.
Cranmer, archbishop, 5. 12. 19. 47. 55. 56.
Cromwel, Thomas, earl of Essex, 47 to 52.
D.
Dacre, Leonard, 471. 481, 2, and 3.
Darnley, lord, 386. 416.
Davison, secretary, conduct of, respecting the queen of Scots,
II. 184 et seq. 187. 188 to 192. 267 to 270.
Dee, Dr., II. 41.
Denmark, prince of, proposed in marriage to Elizabeth, 115.
Desmond, earl of, II. 123.
Devereux, Walter, earl of Essex, II. 45 to 51.
Devereux, Robert, earl of Essex, II. 51.
Appointed general of horse, 226.
His position at court, 237 et seq.
Expedition to Portugal, 252 et seq. 254.
Duel with sir Charles Blount, 256.
Letters to Davison, 267 et seq.
Marriage, 270.
Campaign in France, 280.
Trait of, 367.
Connexion with Anthony and Francis Bacon, 346.
Conduct respecting Lopez, 352.
View of his and the Cecil parties, 372.
His conduct at Cadiz, 374 et seq.
Traits of, 392.
His Island voyage, 395.
His quarrel with the queen, 402.
Conduct in Irish affairs, 427.
Service in Ireland, 434 to 440.
Return to England, 440.
Disgrace, 446 to 454.
Censure on, 454.
Dangerous designs, 460.
Intrigues with the king of Scots, 465.
Insurrection, 465 to 471.
Trial, after-conduct, and death, 471 to 478.
Story respecting his ring. 497.
Discovery, voyages of, II. 310 et seq.
Dorset, marchioness dowager, 8.
Douglas, lady Margaret, 27. 28. 60.
_See_ Lenox, countess of.
Drake, sir Francis, II. 83. 166. 198. 225. 227. 252. 254.
Death and character of, 362.
Drama, progress of the, II. 321.
Dudley, John, duke of Northumberland,
12. 50. 73 to 75. 109. 117. 119. 124. 129. 131.
Dudley, Ambrose, earl of Warwick, 359. 360.
Dudley, Robert, earl of Leicester, 12. 151. 184.
Appointed master of the horse, and favored by Elizabeth, 240.
Knight of the garter, 265.
Suspected of procuring the death of his wife, 291.
His rivalry with the earl of Arundel, 299.
Proposed as a husband to the queen of Scots, 365.
Created earl of Leicester, 373.
His declarations to Melvil, 385.
Means taken by the queen to humble him, 392.
His conduct to the duke of Norfolk, 397. 467.
Suspected of poisoning sir N. Throgmorton, II. 15.
His connexion with lady Sheffield, 31.
Entertains Elizabeth at Kennelworth, 43.
Letter of the queen respecting him, 53.
Opposes the French marriage, 56.
Marries the countess of Essex, 68.
Imprisoned, 69.
Suspected of attempting the life of Simier, 70.
Instances of his oppressive conduct, 129. 130.
Book written against him, 136 et seq.
Appointed commander in Holland, 150.
His letter respecting sir P. Sidney, 159.
Returns from Holland, 164 and 5.
Advises the poisoning of the queen of Scots, 169.
Consequences of his conduct in Holland, 205. 207.
Appointed commander in chief, 227.
Desires the office of lieutenant in England and Ireland, 229.
His death and character, 233.
Dyer, sir Edward, II. 303.
E.
Edward VI. 37. 58. 59.
Letters to him from Elizabeth, 103 and 105. 126.
Eric king of Sweden offers marriage to Elizabeth, 217. 263.
Expected in England, 346.
Exeter, marchioness, 9. 46. 151.
F.
Fence, schools of, regulated, 402.
Ferrers, George, master of the king's pastimes, 122 et seq.
Fletcher, bishop, II. 388.
Fitzalan, Henry, earl of Arundel, 72. 73. 109. 110. 131.
Entertains Elizabeth at Nonsuch, 279.
A suitor to her, 299.
In disgrace, 394.
Fitzgerald, family of, 31 et seq.
Fitzgerald, Gerald, adventures of, 33 et seq.
Fortescue, sir John, II. 251.
G.
Gardiner, bishop, 47. 51. 148, 149 et seq.
Brings in a bill against Elizabeth, 167. 178. 181. 183.
Conduct towards Elizabeth, 189. 190. 194.
Death, 196.
Gascoigne, George, II. 303.
Gresham, sir Thomas, II. 1.
Grenville, sir Richard, II. 306.
Greville, Fulk, II. 95 et seq. 347. 479.
Grey, Arthur, lord, II. 122.
----, lady Catherine, 125. 152. 350.
----, Henry, marquis of Dorset, 7. 117. 161.
----, lady Jane, 79. 96, 97. 125. 130. 161.
----, lord Leonard, 54, 55.
----, lady Mary, 403.
Grindal, archbishop, 326. II. 110.
H.
Hales, sir James, 152.
----, John, 366.
Hall, reverend Joseph, and his satires, II. 419.
Praise of Elizabeth, 504.
Harrington, sir John, the elder, 91.
His verses on the death of admiral Seymour, 91.
--To bishop Gardiner, 179.
Gratitude of Elizabeth towards, 194.
Harrington, sir John, the younger, II. 366. 422.
Letter to, 430.
Letters of, 443, 444. 483. 488.
Hastings, Henry, earl of Huntingdon, II. 388.
Hatton, sir Christopher, II. 10. 33. 204. 285.
Henry VIII. 1. 13. 24. 26. 48. 52, 53. 56. 60. 62. 70.
Herbert, William, earl of Pembroke, 268.
Holles, sir William, II. 318.
Holstein, duke of, suitor to Elizabeth, 263, 264.
Howard, Catherine, 53. 55. 56.
----, Henry, earl of Surry, 50. 56, 66 et seq.
----, lord Henry, II. 131.
----, lady Mary, 8.
----, Philip, earl of Arundel, II. 19. 131. 146. 241.
----, Thomas, third duke of Norfolk, 9. 30. 51. 64. 69. 146. 148.
----, ----, fourth duke of Norfolk, 147. 242. 285.
How regarded by the queen, 395 et seq.
Conduct towards the queen of Scots, 456 to 463.
Towards Cecil, 463 to 466.
His intrigues, 466 to 470.
Renewal of them, II. 12.
Trial, death and issue, 15 to 19.
----, lord Thomas, 11. 27.
----, ---- ---- II. 306. 374.
----, William, lord Effingham, II. 242.
----, Charles, lord Effingham, II. 8. 224. 374 et seq.
----, lord William, II. 19. 131.
Humphreys, Dr. Lawrence, 414.
I.
Impresses, 295.
Ivan Basilowitz, Czar, 444. 446, 7 and 8. II. 120.
J.
James VI of Scotland, 407. 421. 261 et seq.
Conduct by which he offends Elizabeth, 410 et seq.
Her correspondence with him, 412.
Sermon respecting him, 416.
Jewel, bishop, 284. 330.
K.
Knolles, sir Francis, 243. 253. II. 112.
L.
Lee, sir Henry, II. 8. 259.
Leicester, countess of, queen's behaviour towards, II. 401.
Lenox, countess of, 387. 417, 418. II. 38.
Lilly, John, II. 92 et seq.
M.
Manners, Henry, earl of Rutland, 265, 266.
Markham, Gervase, II. 320.
----, Isabella, 194.
Mary, queen of England, 29.
Persecuted for religion, 111 et seq.
Mounts the throne, 131.
Letter from her to Elizabeth, 139.
Marriage of, 181.
Sends an embassy to the pope, 182.
Her reception of Elizabeth, 191.
Letter of Elizabeth to, 212.
Visits Elizabeth at Hatfield, 215.
Receives her at Richmond, 216.
Establishes an ecclesiastical commission, 221.
Her melancholy and death, 227.
Mary, queen of Scots, 58. 59.
Becomes a widow--quarrels with Elizabeth--returns to Scotland, 334 et seq.
Falls in love with Darnley, 386.
Suspected of his death, 416.
Letter to, from Elizabeth, 419.
Married to Bothwell, 419 et seq.
Defeated and imprisoned, 420.
Released, 436.
Takes refuge in England, 437 et seq.
Writes to Elizabeth, 338.
Submits to her judgement, 441.
Retracts, 442.
Is committed to Bolton-castle, 443.
Consents to send commissioners to York, ib.
Signs the association, II. 140.
Conduct of, 140 et seq.
Concern in Babington's plot, 167.
Consultations respecting, 168.
Seizure of her papers, 169.
Her removal to Fotheringay, 170.
Trial, 171 et seq.
Sentence, 175.
Death, 186.
Remarks on her character, 193 et seq.
Medici, Catherine de', 449. 450 et seq.
Melvil, sir James, 374.
Sent to announce the birth of James of Scotland, 407.
Mildmay, sir Walter, II. 249.
Mirror for Magistrates, 200 et seq.
Morice, James, II. 333.
Murray, earl of, regent of Scotland, 421. 435. 455 et seq. 469.
His assassination, 484 and 5.
N.
Newspapers, introduction of, II. 232.
Nevil, Charles, earl of Westmorland, 473 to 477.
Nobility, great power of, 31.
Norfolk, duchess dowager of, 8.
Norris, Henry, 18.
----, sir John, II. 252. 278. 351. 399.
Norton, family of, 478 and 9.
Norwich, queen's entertainment at, II. 58 to 60.
O.
Oxford, queen's visit to, 413.
P.
Paget, lord, 187, 188. 224.
Parker, archbishop, 14. 322. 391.
Parr, Catherine, 60, 61. 76.
----, marquis of Northampton, 256.
Parry, Dr., II. 143 to 146.
Parry, sir Thomas, 233.
Paulet, sir Amias, letter of the queen to, II. 170.
----, marquis of Winchester, 271.
Percy, Henry, earl of Northumberland, 20. 118.
Percy, Henry, earl of Northumberland, 473 to 7.
----, Thomas, earl of Northumberland, II. 131. 149.
----, Henry, earl of Northumberland, II. 219.
Perrot, sir John, II. 124. 289.
Philip II. 181. 183.
Conduct towards Elizabeth, 184. 186. 188. and 192. 195.
Sends the duchess of Parma and Loraine to her, 214.
Offers her his hand, 259.
Becomes her enemy, 339. 449. 454. II. 352.
Pickering, sir William, a suitor of the queen, 298.
Pilkington, bishop of Durham, curious sermon by, 341.
Pole, Arthur and Edmund, plot of, 354.
----, Geffrey, 42. 151.
----, Henry, viscount Montacute, 43.
----, Margaret, countess of Salisbury, 42, 43. 46. 54.
----, Reginald, 40. 182. 198. 238.
Pope, sir Thomas, 136. 192, 193.
Mention of Elizabeth, 198.
Gives entertainments to her, 210. 216.
Writes to the queen respecting her, 219.
Puttenham's Art of Poesy, II. 293.
R.
Raleigh, sir Walter, II. 124 to 128. 223. 256. 313. 359. 393. 396. 458. 478.
Ratcliffe, Thomas, earl of Sussex, 397.
Letters of to the queen, 423.
To Cecil, 465 and 6.
Conduct as president of the North, 476. 480.
Campaign in Scotland, 484.
Behaviour respecting Leicester, II. 69.
Favors the French match, 71.
Death of, 121.
----, Egremond, 480. 481. II. 121 et seq.
Royal Progresses, 275.
Royal succession, vague ideas on, 25, 26.
Rudd, bishop, sermon of, before the queen, II. 309.
S.
Sackville, sir Richard, 242. 433.
Sackville, Thomas, lord Buckhurst, 199. 433. II. 207, 208.
Sampson, Dr. Thomas, offends the queen, 340.
Savoy, duke of, offered to Elizabeth in marriage, 173. 213.
Seymour, Edward, duke of Somerset, 39. 64. 74. 76. 107 to 110. 120.
----, Edward, second earl of Herts;
how treated for his marriage with lady Catherine Grey, 351 et seq.
Establishes the legitimacy of his sons, 368. II. 283. 366.
----, Jane, 17. 38.
----, sir Thomas, lord admiral, 39. 75 to 77.
Conduct to Elizabeth, 77 to 82.
Shakespeare, William, II. 325.
Sidney, sir Henry, 356.
Letter of the queen to, 405.
Death and character of, II. 161.
----, sir Philip, II. 27. 57.
His opposition to the French match and letter to the queen, 74 et seq.
Appearance at a triumph, 89. 94.
Defence of Leicester, 139.
Death and character, 152 et seq.
----, sir Robert, letter of, 459.
Simier, Monsieur, II. 67, 68. 70.
Sixtus V. pope. Extraordinary speeches of, II. 177.
Smith, sir Thomas, II. 21. 41. 62.
Somerset, H. earl of Worcester, 12.
----, duchess dowager of, 76. 120. 150. II. 201.
Spenser, Edmund, II. 126. 418.
Stanley, Edward, earl of Derby, 10.
----, Ferdinando, earl of Derby, II. 355.
Stubbs, Mr. 77 et seq.
Suffolk, Frances, duchess dowager of, 281. II. 117 et seq.
Sully, duke of, conference with Elizabeth, II. 481.
T.
Talbot, Gilbert, lord, letters of, II. 31.
Throgmorton, sir John, II. 16.
----, Francis, II. 130, 131.
----, sir Nicholas, 164. 184. 389. 463. II. 15.
Tonstal, bishop, 148.
Topcliffe, Richard, II. 60 et seq.
Torture defended, II. 133 et seq.
Tyrwhitt, sir Robert,
his letters to the Protector respecting
Elizabeth and admiral Seymour, 85 et seq. 89, 90.
V.
Vaughan, bishop, anecdotes of, II. 389.
Vere, Edward, seventeenth earl of Oxford, II. 4. 221.
----, sir Francis, II. 375.
W.
Walsingham, sir Francis, II. 21. 23. 55. 97 and 8.
Sent into Scotland, 116.
Conduct respecting queen of Scots, 192.
Letter of, to M. Critoy, 245.
Death and character, 264.
Whitgift, archbishop, II. 56 _note_. 110 et seq.
Williams, lord, 171. 172. 174. 189.
Willoughby, sir Hugh, 445.
Wriothesley, earl of Southampton, II. 395. 401. 465. 470. 471. 473. 479.
Wyat, sir Thomas, 136. 140. 159.
_R. and A. Taylor, Printers, London._