considered James to be the heir apparent to the English throne, and prepared to support his claim, hoping he would tolerate the profession of their religion. To counteract the domineering spirit of the Jesuits, they besought the pope to appoint bishops for their church in England; but the influence of Parsons prevailed one arch-priest was appointed, who had secret instructions from the pope, to consult the chief of the Jesuits in England upon all matters of importance. This led to increased differences between the two parties of English Papists. The government noticed it, and encouraged the moderate party: the breach widened, till, in the following reign, the Jesuits led on the persecution of their brethren! At present, a commission was appointed, with power to examine all popish priests, and send them into banishment, instead of causing them to be tried for their lives. This was an improved proceeding, a step towards due toleration, but contrary to the desires and plans of the pope. Indeed, it appears that at all times those accused and liable to be tried for their | lives, were spared if they renounced the dispensing power of the pope, and the right he assumed to interfere with the temporal government of the nation. Feelings of loneliness increasingly pressed upon Elizabeth. Even in 1600, sir Robert Sidney wrote, "The queen doth wax weak since the last troubles, and Burghley's death doth often draw tears from her goodly cheeks; she walketh out but little; meditates much alone, and sometimes writes in private to her best friends." Death continued to diminish the number of those in whom she could confide. Her own irresolution and disposition to half measures increased the neglect, and many showed themselves weary of her government. She felt this, and was heard to complain to herself, "I can do nothing; I have not one man in whom I can repose trust; I am a miserable forlorn woman." She was now subjected to the last bitter trial of a sovereign ruler-that of seeing those whom she was most favouring turning to court her successor, worshipping the rising sun; but in a few years the public feeling returned to its former state, the memories of all dwelt upon the recollections of Elizabeth. The queen was also suffering from nervous disease, aggravated by weakness and anxiety resulting from the weighty as cares of government. In October, 1601, Harrington describes her as wasted to a skeleton, refusing costly dishes, taking little but manchet bread and succory pottage; her fondness for dress was gone; she did not change her clothes for days together; while her impatience and irritability increased so to render attendance on her very painful. He says, "She walks much in her privy chamber, and stamps with her feet at ill news; and thrusts her rusty sword, at times, into the arras in great rage." All this marked the progress of disease, which appears originally to have been rheumatic gout. A year later, he found her still worse. He writes to his wife with much feeling recollection of the queen's past kindness, which had "rooted such love, such dutiful remembrance of her princely virtues, that to turn askant from her condition with tearless eyes, would stain the spring and fount of gratitude." He adds, "I 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, 'Oh, now it mindeth me that you was one who saw this man elsewhere,' 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 sooth, her heart seemeth too full to lack more filling." In such a state a golden cup can do no more to soothe the troubled mind than an earthen vessel. In January, 1603, the queen had cold, which was increased by removal from Westminster to Richmond on a stormy day. She became still more enfeebled, and suffered from fever; her spirits were much affected. She spent most of her time in sighs and tears, her mind generally returning to subjects distressing to her, such as the execution of Essex; but it is evident that the situation of Ireland excited much of this nervous irritability. At this time the countess of Nottingham, who had enjoyed her intimate friendship, died, which affected the queen still further. A story has passed current, that when, on her deathbed, the countess sent for the queen, and confessed that she had kept back a message of contrition from Essex, with a ring, which he returned by her, having received it from Elizabeth when at the height of his favour, and a promise that if he sent it with a claim for her favour, under any circumstances, his request should be granted. It is added, that the non-appearance of this token induced the queen to suppose him too hardened and proud to ask for pardon. Additional particulars have been related, as showing the overwhelming grief of Elizabeth from this time. But there appears no sufficient authority for this story, while infirmities, and other circumstances, sufficiently account for the queen's declining health; and nothing is more common, even in private life, than for the mind to suffer from severe bodily disease. Early in March, Elizabeth was much worse. Sir Robert Carey "found her in one of her withdrawing chambers, sitting low upon her cushions." She discoursed to him of her indisposition, and said, that her "heart had been sad and heavy for ten or twelve days." The next morning she ordered preparations to be made for Divine service, but was unable to go to the chapel, and listened to it as it was read in the adjoining room. Being desired to take medicine, she refused, saying, "I am not sick; I feel no pain, yet I pine away." She sat in this state for two days and three nights, refusing to take off her dress, or to go to bed, seldom speaking, and generally refusing any sustenance. Being raised by force, she stood for fifteen hours, but was then induced to take to her bed, suffering under an affection of her spirits, in which she complained to the lord admiral, that there was an iron collar about her neck—an indication of hysterical suffering. A contemporary account states: "The bishops who then attended the court, seeing that she would not hearken to advice for the recovery of her bodily health, desired her to provide for her spiritual safety, and to recommend her soul to God. Whereto she mildly answered, 'That I have done long ago.' The same account states, "that she gave testimony of hope and comfort in God by signs after her speech had failed. | The physicians reported her recovery was hopeless, and the council took the necessary precautions for securing the accession of the king of Scotland: among other measures, some notoriously unquiet spirits were sent to the Tower, to prevent their raising any disturbance." On the evening of March the 23d, the lord admiral, the lord keeper, and secretary Cecil, desired Elizabeth to The nar state whom she wished should be her successor. She had previously expressed her desire that the crown should go to the right heir. They reported, that on their mentioning the king of Scotland, she gave evident signs of assent. rative of a maid of honour, named Southwell, states, that the queen neither spoke nor stirred till the name of the lord Beauchamp, the son of lady Catherine Grey, was mentioned; but that she then exclaimed, "I will have no rascal's son in my seat." This form, however it might be deemed necessary, was wholly needless; the crown went to James by succession and hereditary right. The last hours of Elizabeth are thus described by lord Monmouth :-"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, that it was a comfort to all beholders. Then the good man told her plainly what she was, and what she was come to; and though she had been long a great queen here upon earth, yet shortly she was to yield an account of her stewardship to the King of kings. After this, he began to pray, and all that were by did answer him. 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 Scroop knowing her meaning, told the bishop that the queen desired he would pray still. He did so, for a long half hour after, and then sought to leave her. The second time she made sign to have him continue in prayer. He did so, for the second time, with fervent cries to God for her soul's health; which he uttered with that fervency of spirit, that the queen, to all our sight, much re joiced 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 the women who attended her. This I heard with my ears, and did see with my eyes." Elizabeth then relapsed into a state of insensibility, in which she expired at three in the morning of March 24. At six the council assembled, when orders were issued that James should be proclaimed king, as next in succession by descent, and as having the sanction of the departed sovereign. This was the end of queen Elizabeth; she had survived all the leading characters, whether popes, or kings, or nobles, who formed plots against her at the beginning or middle of her reign. Few monarchs have been more threatened with public and private violence, yet she was protected. She knew from whence that protection came, never hesitating to declare, according to the words of the psalmist, "Thou, Lord, only makest me dwell in safety." Under all these threatenings, she acted with this impression, neither increasing her guards, nor appearing less frequently in public. With her ended the house or dynasty of Tudor, which had held the crown of England rather more than a century, through a period, eventful not only for the rapid progress of the nation under their sway, but for the influence which the acts of their government had upon succeeding generations, not only in England, but throughout the world. Something must be said of the personal character of Elizabeth: if she has been over praised by some, she has been most unfairly libelled by others. In person she was well formed, tall, and stately, "of lion port," as a contemporary describes her; upon the whole pleasing, though not possessing feminine beauty. In her twentieth year, the Venetian ambassador spoke of her person as large, but well formed; more pleasing than handsome, with fine eyes, a fine complexion of an olive tint, and a beautiful hand. Hentzner thus describes her in 1598, at the age of sixty-five. "Her face long and fair, but wrinkled; her eyes small, but black and gracious; her nose a little bent; her lips close; her teeth darkish; her hair tawny, but not her own. Her hands were thin, her fingers long, but her words mild and very courteous." Vanity was the prevailing foible of Elizabeth. Being far above mediocrity, both in personal and mental accomplishments, she was exposed to the deceptions of flattery, which induced her to take frequent opportunity for display, often so as to make herself an object of ridicule. This led sir Robert Cecil to speak of her as one, 66 who was more than a man, and in truth sometimes less than a woman." Thus the ambassador for Scotland was admitted privately, and, as if unexpectedly, that he might see her dance; and was then questioned as to the comparative beauty of herself and Mary! Upon this, and similar anecdotes, many have founded portentous tales, representing her conduct to that princess as the mere result of female jealousy, disappointed by the superior charms of another. But Elizabeth far surpassed Mary in mental powers and character, which raised her above the Scottish queen. Admitting, as we do, that Mary was treated with too much severity, still we need not resort to female vanity for the reason. Were there not causes for that treatment, far stronger, and more obvious than any such petty jealousy? The chief weakness of Elizabeth was, that she took pleasure in being addressed in the romantic language of admiring love. This was the taste of the age, partly a relic of chivalry, but stimulated by the fondness of Elizabeth for it. It was, indeed, very absurd, and even worse; but there is no reason to suppose it proceeded from any grossness of mind, or that it degenerated into licentious practice. When, at the age of sixty, Raleigh compared her to Venus, it was only poetic nonsense; but it was being "less than woman," to allow such nonsense to be uttered, unless, as probably was the case, she allowed those who uttered it to do so for their own amusement. The libels which have been circulated respecting Elizabeth on this head, are destitute of proof. They abounded in her own times, but proceeded from her popish assailants. The assertions retailed by Mary Stuart, in a well-known, angry letter, as having been told her by the countess of Shrewsbury, Mary expressly says, she did not believe, and she had not long before appealed for protection against the slanderous assertions of lady Shrewsbury respecting herself. No dependance can be placed upon the mere assertions of one who is characterized by her husband as "his wicked and ma licious wife;" and repeated, probably with exaggerations, by an angry and vindictive woman, with the especial hope that Elizabeth might be induced to see her personally from the hope of further disclosures. That Allen was well paid for his slanders, appears from the fact, that by pursuing the contest with his sovereign, he, who at first was only a poor exiled priest, obtained the rank of a cardinal, with an income of fifteen thousand crowns, equal, as Turner says, to twenty thousand pounds of our money now-a pleasing result of persecution, purchased, not by his own sufferings, but those he instigated others to undergo ! The tales of Elizabeth's public freedoms and levities do not corroborate any worse reports, they rather contradict them; while it is evident, from her public rebukes of Leicester, when occasions arose, that she kept even her greatest favourites from any opportunity for undue presumption. The French ambassador, De Castelnau, did not hesitate to say, that any imputations of improper attachment were inventions forged by malevolent persons; and this he stated, not in a public document or official communication, it stands written by him in his private memoirs, where no object could be served by any false statement. In addition to the female vanity, already mentioned, and the inclination to coquetry, which she indulged, Elizabeth had strong reasons for endeavouring to secure the personal regards of Leicester and others. As early as 1559, the year after her accession, the ambassador of the emperor sent her an express caution to be well guarded by her friends, for he knew it had been offered that she should be slain: we have seen how frequent these plots afterwards became. Even her sister Mary, with far less reason for alarm, had her chamber protected every night for a considerable period by armed men. How painful the situation of princes! how correct the numerous descriptions of their anxieties! There can be no doubt that Elizabeth secured this protection the better, by permitting Leicester and others to offer it on stronger grounds than those of mere duty, though she never allowed them to presume on her favour. But she coquetted with her admirers, or suitors, and has been reflected upon in consequence, She probably was illjudged enough to think her influence increased by this course, when to her authority as queen, was added submission as an object of love and admiration. She was not aware how much that seemed respect paid to her qualities as a female, was in reality homage paid to her rank; yet there can be no doubt that she possessed an influential power, which no king would have been permitted to exercise. Dismissing then the groundless charges of popish malevolence, which have been thoroughly sifted by Turner and others, we have to censure Elizabeth's vanity, love of dress, and the freedom of language, abounding often in profane oaths, in which she indulged. Harrington records anecdotes which illustrate these. "One Sunday, my lord of London preached to the queen's majesty, and seemed to touch on the vanity of decking the body too finely. Her majesty told the ladies, that if the bishop held more discourse on such matters, she would fit him for heaven; but he should walk thither without a staff, and leave his mantle behind him.' Perchance, the bishop hath never sought her highness's wardrobe, or he would have chosen another text." In 1601, he says, "Her highness swears much at those that cause her grief, in such wise, to the no small discomfiture of all about her." This language may be said to be derived from her father, Henry VIII., whom she strongly resembled in many of the qualities of her mind, especially the love of sway. Whether the desire to rule, or any other cause, determined her against marriage, it is plain, that from the first she was disinclined to matrimony. Her independent spirit never would allow even her most esteemed minister to interfere with her sovereign will and pleasure; yet she had the good sense and wisdom to select wise counsellors, and to form her decisions upon their opinions. Latterly, the queen was very irresolute, when pressed to decide. Harrington tells us, "By art and nature together so blended, it was difficult to find her right humour at any time. Her wisest men and best counsellors were oft sore troubled to know her will in matters of state, so covertly did she pass her judgment as seemed to leave all to their discreet management; and when the business did turn to better advantage, she did most cunningly commit the good issue to her own honour and understanding; but when ought fell out contrary to her will and intent, the council were in great strait to defend their own acting, and not blemish the queen's good judgment." This plan of acting was displayed in the tragical end of the Scottish queen. This feature in her character, irresolution, has not been sufficiently noticed. It does much to account for her behaviour in the case of Mary Stuart, for want of mending; the house dirty from the cellar to the garret; every closet was untidy, nor was there one useful article in readiness; valuable goods were found spoiled by carelessness: my heart ached to see it all." This heartache, however, instead of being assuaged by endeavouring to better the condition of things, appeared to be relieved only by making known, to a whole neighbourhood, the faults of the departed, whose dying breath had commended her helpless orphans to the care of this tatler. How much more charitable would it have been to have cast a veil over the failings of one who could no longer defend herself, and, as a disinterested friend, to have done all that was possible for the house of mourning. "Now in that house you're sure of knowing The slightest scrap of news that's going.' G I fear that this is too true a description of many families, who, nevertheless, pass for worthy people. Suspect, reader, that your's is a gossiping friendship if you are a frequent visitor at such houses, sitting, perhaps, for hours, to the neglect of your duties at home, hearing and communicating gossip; these meetings are hotbeds in which the rank weeds of mischief spring and flourish. knows other persons' business better than her own; she surrounds herself with idlers, who will prate for a whole morning about the dress, affairs, and even motives of their neighbours. Ghas also vanity enough to suppose that she is an object of observation and interest to all about her-a centre towards which almost every action of her neighbours, in some measure, has a bearing. Her first eager question is, "Was my name mentioned at such and such a party?" Her second, "What was said of this, that, and the other person?" Those who will feed her vitiated appetite with a tale of flattery, or call up and join her indignation by repeating how she was defamed, are held to be her sincere friends. The conduct of R- - always reminds me of a wayward child among its companions, who, if it cannot have its own will, perpetually cries out, "Then I won't play," and whimpering, retires to sulk in a corner. If R meets a committee, and the members venture to differ from him, and carry their point ever so fairly, he has been known, two or three times in the course of an even ing, to declare that he would withdraw his name, and have no more to do with the society. In his friendships, he shows the same touchy and capricious temper. H- loves novelty in friendship; she is introduced to a person respecting whom she knows but little; she is delighted with the manners of this new acquaintance, a rapid interchange of visiting takes place, and she speaks of her new friend with an excitement of pleasure. I know one instance, in which the wife of a swindler, newly settled in the village, became her intimate companion, and proved the source of much discredit and anxiety to her. was Another time, she formed a friendship with a stranger, who shortly after embezzled large property, missing in the night, and has never been heard of since. I believe these proved to H the necessity of some knowledge of character before fixing upon her friends; but she still forms hasty attachments, which disappoint her expectations, and are broken off as suddenly as they were commenced. Let us, in our intercourse with those we value, endeavour equally to avoid too great familiarity and reserve; for each tends to check the growth of genuine friendship. To take uncourteous freedoms, and utter rude speeches, is surely a bad way of manifesting the warmth of our attachment. To throw off respectful manners is at all times to lay ourselves open to well-merited dislike. The unconstrained ease which should characterize our friendly intercourse, and which forms one of its delightful features, must never degenerate into a habit of taking unwarrantable liberties, which, though the aggressor may not be sensible enough to perceive and avoid, the subject of them may keenly feel, and not hesitate to resent. Let it not be supposed that the writer would here advocate an undue or formal attention to that worldly etiquette, a breach of which is considered to be unpardonable among a certain class: far from it; for this might partake of the nature of fashionable friendship, which has been already deprecated. Nor would I wish that love and esteem should hide itself under a reserved exterior; rough-handed familiarity crushes the fair flowers of friendship; but a cold and heartless behavour kills the root. Thus I have endeavoured to point out some few things relating to friendship, |