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darkened, the mind of the Queen became more and more fanatic, and instead of faltering in her purpose, she only sought to precipitate its accomplishment. She would have removed Elizabeth herself from her path by violent means, but the policy of Philip as a Spanish King interposed to prevent the destruction of the great obstacle to the accession to the throne of England of the betrothed wife of the heir to the Crown of France. So all that was left to Mary of England was to continue with increased and unremitting severity her war of extermination on the other leaders of English Protestantism, and on its most devoted adherents. After every allowance,' says the Catholic historian Lingard, it will be found that in the space of four years almost two hundred persons perished in the flames for religious opinions; a number at the contemplation of which the mind is struck with horror.' The natural compassion of Mary, which had stayed her hand for some time from proceeding to extremities against Jane Grey and the chicfs of the Dudley-Grey faction, and which displayed itself in other cases, where the interests of religion were not supposed to be concerned, was entirely deadened in her relation with these hateful heretics. Faith and a Church had achieved one more victory over Charity and human nature. For these persecutions to the death Mary seems to be herself responsible, for the instigators and approvers of her detestable course were comparatively obscure men. Neither

Gardiner nor Pole, though they had both lent themselves to the persecution, is personally responsible for the extent to which it was actually carried. The Catholic world viewed the proceeding with aversion, and the Pope himself became a counsellor of moderation. But Mary's zeal for religion overleapt the bounds of ecclesiastical, as well as of civil policy, and ardent defender of the Catholic Church as she was, she still was Tudor enough to assert her authority against papal dictation. The prohibition of the publication of a Papal Bull within England by this champion of Catholicism is the strongest and strangest proof that the pride of a sovereign and the strong-will of a family cannot be suppressed by the most imperative claims of a formal creed.

It is difficult to think of Mary in herself and apart from the fanaticism which absorbed her mind and her heart. Yet it seems evident that she had not the power of subordinating her own impulses to wider considerations of public policy. Not only did she reduce a national government to the character of a branch of the Inquisition, but she allowed England to sink into a secondary power in Europe, in obedience to her personal inclination for Philip and for Spain. No feeling that this humiliation was unintentional on the part of the Queen could save her from a growing unpopularity among the English people. Nor did her domestic politics redeem her reputation. She had succeeded, indeed, to an im

poverished kingdom, but she entirely failed in recruiting its wasted resources, while lavish in her benefactions and restitutions to her own Church at

the national expense. Even her highest acts of statesmanship were unappreciated. Her attempts to foster the interests of commerce were chiefly prospectively advantageous, being dependent on the opening of fresh channels of enterprise, and the merchants felt during her reign only the exactions to which they were subjected. Poverty of the Exchequer and heavy taxes without glory were not a programme likely to conciliate Englishmen, who preferred a Sovereign that could make the kingdom wealthy and great, to one who tried to do right and was very compassionate to the poor. Even the higher morality and decorum of her Court were robbed of their popularity by being associated with stiffness and gloom. Although, except on the great point of religious persecution, her errors were venial compared with those of many of her predecessors, and although she had instincts of right which few of them displayed, Mary seemed to be haunted by continual ill-luck. The secret perhaps lay in this, that, with good intentions and fair abilities, she failed absolutely in one essential of a great Sovereign. She understood nothing of the people over whom she ruled, or of the times in which she was called upon to be a ruler.

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ELIZABETH.

THE reputation of Elizabeth Tudor has experienced nearly as many vicissitudes as that of her father, Henry, but the depreciatory estimate appears to be rather in the ascendant at the present time, and there is a disposition to deny to her not merely the moral, but the intellectual superiority which was once looked upon as her especial characteristic. No doubt there has been a great deal of undiscriminating and uninformed panegyric of the Protestant Queen, which has provoked, naturally enough, a strong reaction, as facts have been disinterred, and earlier judgments have been brought to light, which are quite inconsistent with this unqualified praise; but I am disposed to think that this revulsion of opinion is likely to lead to an equally erroneous estimate of her character. If the more favourable view was wanting in distinctness of delineation, that which is becoming popular seems to be wanting in breadth and comprehensiveness; if the former was a mere generalisation of perfections, the latter appears to me to be wanting in a sense of the real significance and

mutual bearing of her specific acts and of the varying phases of her policy.

In her natural character Elizabeth was a true Tudor, but in the manner and degree of the manifestation of the family qualities she differed from both her father and grandfather in so curiously complicated a manner, that it is difficult to say whether we are more assisted or perplexed in the elucidation of her real nature by the alternations of these resemblances and contrasts. There was a coarseness of grain in the mental organisation of all the Tudors, but their physical constitution, as I have already said, exercised a considerable influence on the manner of its development. In Henry the Eighth the strong physique so predominated that it seems to overlay and obscure the natural vigour and subtlety of his mind on ordinary occasions, and it is only on such questions as the divorce from Catharine of Aragon that we recognise the inherent family tendency to casuistry. In Henry the Seventh, on the contrary, the casuistical element predominated, and the coarseness of grain showed itself rather in a passive insensibility to considerations of delicacy and honour, than in any active self-indulgence. Both the Henries had an unusually strong will, but in the son it was too often the master of his actions; in the father it was tempered and disciplined by the restraints and considerations of a more sustained thoughtfulness. In Elizabeth the headstrong