summoned to the Council, but he declared falsely that his enemies had resolved to have him murdered, for which reason he could not come to Court. On the following morning, the chief officers of state, among whom was the Chancellor Egerton, appeared, in order once more to warn him, and summon him to obedience; but, instead of that, he kept them prisoners in his fortified countryhouse, and proceeded with about eight hundred followers to London. He very erroneously believed that his popularity would continue, even in criminal undertakings, and that Elizabeth's long and wise government would immediately be overthrown by this unskilful attack, because the citizens, as is the case everywhere, complained of some grievances. Justice and law, loyalty and gratitude had however taken deep root, and the cry "For the Queen! for the Queen! All is done for her and your good!" seemed irreconcileable with the whole proceeding. Nobody therefore joined the Earl, and when Elizabeth, who did not for a moment lose her composure or presence of mind, in the apparently great danger, caused pardon to be promised to all those who would immediately lay down their arms, while all the others should be outlawed; not only the crowd who had been drawn together through curiosity dispersed, but even the Earl's own followers forsook him, notwithstanding his passionate exhortations. He fled, and as it appeared impossible to

defend his house any longer, he surrendered, with the Earl of Southampton and others of his partisans. Elizabeth said, "she had done every thing for Essex that a sovereign could do for a subject, that she had shewn more affection to him than to any person in the kingdom, but met only with ingratitude and disloyalty; that pride was the cause of his fall, and as he had himself closed all the avenues to clemency, she must let justice take its course.' Nine Earls and fifteen barons, with the Lord Chief Justice, formed the court; condemned him to death, because he had conspired against the life of the Queen, had attempted to excite rebellion, had arrested officers of state, and defended his house against the royal troops. After hearing the sentence, he said, "What more severe sentence could have been pronounced upon me if I had been engaged my whole life against the Queen and the country? My campaigns in Portugal, Spain, France, and Ireland, are reckoned as nothing. It avails me nothing that I lost my father early in youth, and my brother before Rouen. The hatred of my enemies outweighs all my services." These expressions were not considered as proofs of arrogance, but excused on account of the impending danger. He had not been able, however, to prove, during the trial, accusations against Cobham, Raleigh, and especially against Cecil; on the contrary, it appeared, on closer examination, that the

whole was founded on misunderstanding and gossip. Essex rejected the advice of his friends to implore pardon; he said, "he had no need of it, that he was innocent, and under such circumstances tired of his life." But when some clergymen had in serious conversations exhorted him to humility, and truly to confess his own guilt and that of all the parties concerned, he requested from the chief officers of state, among whom were Egerton and Cecil, to visit him in prison. He begged pardon of the former for having arbitrarily arrested him, and of the latter for the unproved accusations against him; and then gave both verbally and in writing a confession, according to which, he had not intended anything against the life of Elizabeth, but had proposed to seize her person, to change the government, to summon a Parliament, and severely to punish some of the most important officers of state. He declared that he had done his enemies wrong, and begged that the Queen would order him to be executed within the walls of the Tower. Whether he said, as some have related, that as long as he lived Elizabeth would be in danger, seems doubtful. It certainly gave her great pain, when after long hesitation between conflicting feelings and motives, she at length confirmed the sentence of death on her friend and favourite. He was executed on the 25th of February, 1601. He behaved with much firmness

and Christian humility, wished, when upon the scaffold, all prosperity to the country and the Queen; acknowledged his great crime, but stedfastly denied any intention against the life of Elizabeth. The Earl of Southampton, whose guilt Essex had taken upon himself, and who had defended himself in a very affecting manner, was imprisoned during the remainder of Elizabeth's reign. Several others were pardoned, and only four of his accomplices executed, among whom was Cuffe, his secretary, who had first led him astray.

"The Earl of Essex," says Hume, "was but thirty-four years of age when his rashness, imprudence, and violence, brought him to this untimely end. We must here, as in many others, lament the inconsistency of human nature, that a person endowed with so many noble virtues, generosity, sincerity, friendship, valour, eloquence and industry, should, in the latter period of his life, have given reins to his ungovernable passions, and involved not only himself but many of his friends in utter ruin. The Queen's tenderness and passion for him, as it was the cause of those premature honours which he attained, seems, on the whole, the chief circumstance which brought on his unhappy fate."

Such was the course of this affair, as related by many contemporaries, but which has been placed in a different light by an anecdote subsequently

published.(6) Essex, it is said, had received from Elizabeth, during the time of his favour, a ring, by sending which to her, he should be freed from every danger, and receive pardon for any offence that he might have committed against her. After his condemnation, he sent it to the Countess of Nottingham, to be delivered to Elizabeth, but the Countess, whose husband was an enemy to Essex, was persuaded by him not to deliver it. Elizabeth having long waited in vain for this proof of his humility, confirmed the sentence of death; but, two years later, having learnt the truth by the repentant confession of the Countess on her death-bed, she fell into a state of insensible melancholy, which brought on her death. Upon this we observe,

First, It does not look at all like Elizabeth to promise pardon to any one for every possible crime, merely on producing a memorial of friendship, and she was, besides, too well acquainted with the character of Essex not to foresee the possibility of his committing some great offence.

Secondly, Essex had sincerely, humbly, and repentantly confessed to four great officers of state in his prison, so that it would have been foolish if Elizabeth, after such a confession, had confirmed the sentence of death merely because he did not add to it a pledge of affection. The weighty reasons for condemning him are evident, and Elizabeth was so fully convinced of the propriety and necessity of her