THE QUEEN AND ESSEX.

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and impulsiveness about him; her hereditary impetuosity and loving nature, in the noble Devereux blood. Elizabeth had become cautious, secretive, and wary. She was vain, had been sensuous, but age had brought a wisdom not to be deeply snared, by pretenders to passion, though gratified by their praise and adulation. She pitied Essex's rashness and inexperience; she was wise enough to be his friend and guardian. His father had died in her service. The young man, ambitious, impetuous, affectionate, with warni impulses, and a love of whatever is intellectually worthy of honour and reverence, no doubt loved his Queen devotedly, for her wisdom, her learning, her great gifts, her princely bearing. Perhaps he at first warmly requited her affection by love, or by a passion more ardent than her own. That she was much older-more than twice his age-is of little moment. Young men's love is always for matronly beauty. She was his Sovereign.

His senses may have been, as a boy, dazzled by her magnificence; but there is no reason to suppose that her love for him was reciprocated long. He was a bad dissembler, bearing his likes and dislikes on his face. With such a nature, bent on serious enterprise, generally absorbed in business, and in the dreams of ambition, it is but reasonable to presume him honest, and believe that he once loved his Queen. She was wise enough with her great gifts, with her Queenly nature, spite of follies and weaknesses, to be loved and honoured by any man. But the tide has now turned that once bore him on to fortune; it is setting out rapidly, and it will presently leave him, like a waif, a prey to the laws of flotsam and jetsam, stranded on the slippery salt ooze; when the evening sun setting red, shall

210

ELIZABETH'S COURAGE.

rise on him no more; but where a storm rising in the night shall dash him to pieces, amid darkness and wailing of winds and sudden oblivion.

Being apprised by his eager and bitter enemies of his many taunts, his evil speeches, his rash demeanour, his turbulent and seditious meetings; of the Jesuits thronging about his person; of the disaffected Furitans, who recognize in him their leader and protector, Elizabeth looks calmly on, but will have this young man guarded and watched. He had better beware; for though not splenetic nor rash, being roused, the lion is not more dangerous. At last, on Saturday, news is brought to the court, that some of the earls, and lords, and knights named are assembled. That the concourse is greater. That there are active preparations as if for an expedition; and that stores, and arms, and food have gone in. That money has been raised; and that the talk has been open of an attack on the Queen's palace, Cuffe having even used threats of the Earl's intention. The Queen has no fear. She despises alike the occasion and the cause. She knows the men. She knows her own strength. But she will send ambassadors to see what is doing at Essex House. No spies, but Statesmen, openly. To caution the young man so rashly rushing on his fate. To see what he purposes, and if wise counsel will do it, prevent him from being the agent of his own undoing. To-morrow, as the matter is urgent and must soon come to a head, she will send the Lord Chief Justice Popham; Sir William Knollys, her chamberlain and comptroller of her household, and a relative of the ill-fated Earl; the Earl of Worcester, and Sir Thomas Egerton the Lord Keeper, the highest

AMBASSADORS APPOINTED.

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subject in the realm, who is in two or three years to be Earl Ellesmere, to Essex House, to demand the grievances of the Earl. So, early on the gray and gusty February morning, before the citizens stir out to church, these noble gentlemen in state, with various retainers at their back, and a man bearing the mace, set out for Essex House. They arrive there soon after ten, the bells even now clanging out from every steeple, from Westminster to Bow. The porter at their summons looks out, and seeing these lords in great state and circumstance, with the seal borne before them, sends to the captain of the guard. The captain, a good soldier, but factious and turbulent, and of no great discretion, is perplexed on the instant what to do. But after much consultation, messages sent to the Earl, a great deal of confusion heard by those on the outside, who grow impatient at the long delay, the Queen's commissioners are admitted with great caution and suspicion. Their servants, pressing in behind, are peremptorily forced back and shut out.

The judges find themselves suddenly in presence of a large concourse of armed men, chiefly English, with a small admixture of Welsh, Scotch, Irish, and Flemings. These are all, more or less, turbulent and excited, but restrained by their commanders. In the midst of the court-yard, and surrounded by the soldiers, are the young Earl of Rutland, son-in-law of Essex; the young Earl of Southampton, bound to him in kinship, but still more in amity and love; Lord Sandys; the crafty Lord Monteagle; Sir Christopher Blount, father-in-law to Essex; Sir Charles Danvers, and several other knights and per

sons unknown to the judges, but who immediately and clamorously press forward upon the Chief Justice and his companions.

The Lord Keeper Egerton opens his business. He has been sent by the Queen to understand the cause of this their assembly, and to let them know, all of them, that if they have any cause of grief or honest complaint against any person whatsoever, it shall be heard, and they, the claimants, shall have justice. Then the Earl, who, still in bad health, looks pale and wan, but who flushes with his strong excitement and passion, cries out in a loud voice, without periphrasis or even the courtesies due to the Peers, that his life has been sought by his enemies. That they have plotted even to murder him in his bed. That they have set her Majesty's face against him, and compassed his destruction. That he has been cruelly and perfidiously dealt with. That his hand had

been counterfeited and letters forged in his name to injure him with the Queen. That he had been denied access to meet his accusers and explain his wrongs; that he had been imprisoned and exiled from the court without cause; and that therefore the Lords, his good friends and kinsmen, were assembled there to protect him and to defend their lives and persons; for being friends of his, they too, had been denied justice and grievously injured, his noble friend, the Lord Southampton, having been set upon by the Lord Grey and his servants in the street, and assaulted. The Lord Chief Justice, whose tone is in strong contrast with the Earl's, mildly and resolutely, and with judicial gravity, declares, that if the Earl himself, or the noble lords his friends, have any such matter of grief,

as is now for the first time declared, or as they aver themselves to have, or if any danger to their persons is compassed, if the Earl will at once declare who are their enemies, her Majesty shall be informed, and he does not doubt that lawful justice will be done, no matter who is concerned.

The Earl of Southampton here interrupts the speaker, and says that Lord Grey has not been yet punished for his assault upon him; to which the Chief Justice replies, “that he was imprisoned." Upon which the Lord Keeper Egerton begs the Earl to state his grievances, which shall faithfully be conveyed to her Majesty.

At this point there arises a great clamour among the soldiers and serving-men, who have all this time been pressing on the counsellors, and who now cry out, "Away, my lord! they abuse you; they betray you; they undo you; you lose time." Then the Lord Keeper, putting on his hat, as the whole of the lords have so far stood uncovered, says with a loud voice, and standing on his dignity of judge, "My lord, give us audience privately; here we are disturbed;" and turning to the mob, said, “I command you all on your allegiance, lay down your arms and depart. You are here violating the law, and wili be punished; and if you be good subjects, as ye say you are, you will depart at once, at my command." Then the mob immediately make an uproar to drown the speech of the Lord Keeper. The Earl of Essex, puts on his hat and turning hurriedly (his followers attending him) into the house, the soldiery and rabble pressing upon the counsellors as they attempted to follow; some of those on the outside crying out, "Kill them, kill them!" The Earl went