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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, "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 malicious 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,

without having reference to the fine- | spun theories of deep designs and concealed motives, advanced by many. And it may often be seen, in persons who in youth and early life have been placed in situations of difficulty, wherein they have acted with the most beneficial decision, that when farther advanced in life, they act in a very different manner, seldom coming to any absolute determination till constrained to do so; as though reflection upon their escapes from past difficulties and dangers made them apprehensive upon much slighter occasions. But connected with this irresolution, Elizabeth still retained that commanding spirit, which she inherited from her father, and which when roused, would not brook control, even from the most valued or favoured of her court. This spirit not only rendered her too jealous of any encroachment upon her prerogative, but led her at times to measures, which though frequent at that period, and far more common under preceding monarchs, were arbitrary interferences with the law. These proceedings were usually on public matters, seldom emanating from private considerations. No monarch on the English throne ever lived so much for the good of the people, and so little for individual gratification, as Elizabeth. Harrington relates, "The queen did once ask my wife, in merry sort, how she kept my good will and love, which I did always maintain to be truly good towards her and to my children. My Mall, in wise and discreet manner, told her highness, she had confidence in her husband's understanding and courage, well founded on her own stedfastness not to offend or thwart, but to cherish and obey; hereby did she persuade her husband of her own affection, and in so doing did command his. Go to, go to, mistress,' saith the queen, you are wisely bent, find: after such sort do I keep the good will of all my husbands, my good people; for if they do not rest assured of some special love towards them, they would not readily yield me such good obedience.' This deserveth noting, as being both wise and pleasant."

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Resembling her father, rather than her brother, in matters of religion, Elizabeth encouraged Protestantism because it met the destructive errors of Popery, rather than because it imparted spiritual life. She could not accede to the gross doctrinal errors of Popery; but she

liked much of its pomp and circumstance, and would fain have established a middle way, one especially which would admit her acting according to her own will. Here, probably, was Elizabeth's greatest defect, so far as the real welfare of her subjects was concerned. She brought them out of the darkness of Popery; she saw and admitted the value of gospel light and truth; but she did not receive the truth in the love of it, in simplicity and in faith. She was convinced rather than converted. Of her personal religion, we cannot say much, and happily we are not called to judge; but many things in her conduct and demeanour, were unbecoming the chief Protestant monarch of the day, and nothing can justify her intolerance. Still very much of this arose from the circumstances of the times, when many habits and influences of Popery yet operated upon Protestants in general, without their being conscious from whence their unscriptural actions proceeded.

The court of Elizabeth manifested all the general features of a court, with those which were peculiar to the age. The splendour and gaiety exhibited were in accordance with the taste of the monarch; the manners were those of times much less refined than the present day; perhaps not in reality more moral, but certainly with more professed attention to religious observances. time can a court be regarded as a school for morals; and while Elizabeth did not permit indecorum in her presence, she does not appear to have been guided by a high standard in selecting her favourites; such, however, were the general habits of the age, and she had not the power to alter them.

At no

The frugality of Elizabeth has already been noticed; it degenerated still farther towards parsimony as she became older : one object she had in view, by obliging her subjects to incur charges in her service or for her entertainment, was to lessen their means, and keep them dependent. The policy of the house of Tudor was to prevent the nobles from combining against their sovereign; the result was beneficial to England.

Elizabeth was one of the learned females, in an age, when it was more customary for women of rank to study ancient lore than it is at present. She could speak Latin, French, and Italian, answering foreign ambassadors in those

languages without previous study. She was also acquainted with Greek. Her visits to the universities gave opportunities for displaying her learning, which she did not neglect. She spoke with force and eloquence, and wrote well, but too much in the nonsensical, metaphorical style of that day.

Her popularity cannot be questioned. Goodman has described her unwavering confidence in her people. In "the year 1588, and subsequently when she had most enemies, the court gates were open; none hindered any one from entering; yet she came out fearlessly from council among the crowd by torch light. 'God save your majesty,' was shouted; 'God bless you all my good people,' was the reply. Again the shouts rose. Then the queen said again unto us, 'You may well have a greater prince, but you never shall have a more loving prince.' With the same confidence, she customarily proceeded in dark night from Chelsea to Whitehall, when all the way long was full of people to see her; and truly any man might very easily have come to her coach." Here was true courage; she had numerous examples of contemporary princes being stabbed or assassinated; even her pacific successor wore dagger-proof garments. Goodman relates the favourable impression her behaviour made upon the retiring crowds, "We did nothing but talk what an admirable queen she was, and how we would adventure ourselves to do her service."

The political character of Elizabeth is fully exhibited in her history; the leading feature of her polity was desire for peace. In no instance, did she evince an ambitious desire to grasp the territory of others. Her proceedings with Scotland, and even Ireland, show this, when it was necessary to interfere with those countries for the safety of England. This desire for peace enabled her to extend English commerce, from whence much national prosperity resulted; her subjects were more enriched by their traffic, than the people of Spain by all the supplies of gold and silver their tyrannical monarch extorted from the oppressed Indians. Before her reign the commerce of England was contracted and poor; during her reign, it extended all over the world; yet we find a modern Romish historian attributing the rise of this spirit of commerce to the reign of Mary, whose only object was to restore Po

pery, and whose proceedings kept her subjects in constant dread of losing their property, their lives, and liberties! In conclusion, we may remark, that no monarch ever possessed the affections of his subjects so long or to such a degree. This alone ought to silence the petty calumnies with which the memory of Elizabeth has been assailed. Assuredly, there was good cause for such an unvarying attachment. Let us examine the history of her reign without prejudice, and we shall see, that she found England at a low ebb, disgraced among the nations, in a state of wretched degradation, bowed down to ignorance and superstition. She left it in a high state of prosperity, one of the most commanding powers of Europe; and this, not by wielding the conqueror's bloody sword, but by a steady perseverance in seeking after peace, and desiring the general welfare of her people.

GOD IS LOVE.

SUPPOSE a king has earnestly desired to save a rebel subject; suppose all difficulties surmounted, and offers of astonishing grace made: but the rebel stands aloof, and prefers his shackles, hates the mercy that is offered, and the hand that offered it, and mocks at all the messengers that bring the tidings to him. Surely this, more than any thing, should try his king's love. My friends, thus it is with us: Christ is offered to us; salvation is offered; pardon, reconciliation, peace, here; heaven and everlasting happiness, hereafter: and who accepts them? No! the farm, the merchandize, the things that are to last the few poor years of this life-nay, the trifle that is to last but a moment, these have our hearts and affections: such is our degraded and debased state. But the love of God shall not be frustrated. It is proof even against this foul ingratitude; it has provided even against this obstacle. Behold another gracious person at hand, even the Holy Ghost, that proceedeth from the Father and the Son: behold Him ready to subdue the enmity, to alter the taste, to change the will, to give a new heart. Hear the gracious promise, and observe how exactly suited to the case. Is your whole nature utterly without a relish of spiritual things? Do you find your heart hard; and, notwithstanding all the representations of Divine love, still unmelted? Are you without any

power to walk in the way of God's commandments? Well, then, here is the promise; do not look upon these as empty words; thousands and thousands that are now in heaven, and thousands that are yet on earth, have found them true to their great and endless comfort. "A new heart will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you: and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes, and ye shall keep my judgments, and do them," Ezek. xxxvi. 26, 27. Here is the blessed work of the Holy Spirit upon the heart. And, oh, what is that love which shall bring him into unholy hearts like ours! Think of the opposition between the evil tempers, the carnal affections, the foul passions therein; and that pure and heavenly visitant. Think of the striving which the unrenewed mind makes against him, of the wilful continuance in sin, of the quenching of his heavenly fires. Let me illustrate again; that by things familiar to our apprehension we may, if it be possible, enter a little into the deep things of God. Suppose some kind visitant should see a cottage full of misery, and poverty, and disease; and should enter there, delighting to do good, and with the desire, in the fulness of his heart, of relieving the misery, and of giving medicines to heal the sickness; and suppose, instead of being welcomed there, the door should be shut in his face. This is the representations of our conduct towards the Holy Spirit. A man, for instance, finds certain misgivings in his heart, he begins to see that all is not right, that he is assuredly not in the way of life; that a life of holiness would be happier than that which he is leading: these are the strivings of the Holy Spirit with his conscience. What does the man do? Does he encourage these reflections? Does he welcome this celestial visitor? Alas! how often does he fly to any thing, any folly, any sin, that may drown such disagreeable and disturbing thoughts; thus grieving the Holy Spirit, and driving him, as far as in him lies, from his heart. And even in the true believer —even when the great change has taken place upon the heart-the mistrust, the unkindness, even of the children of God, prove that, although a new nature has been given, the old one still lingers. And how has the Holy Spirit to bear

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with the perverseness, the hardness of heart, the unbelief, the mistrust, the unkindness even of the children of God! How deeply must the true Christian daily feel the love of God! How do I, must he say-how do I constantly provoke the Holy Spirit to depart from me! how carelessly do I seek after Him! how carelessly improve the blessed moments of his presence! how little do I endeavour to profit by his teaching! how often prefer not to be taught! What but the tenderness of love could bear this! My people," saith God, by the prophet Hosea, are bent to backslidings from me;" and yet he pursues, in the next verse, "How shall I give thee up, Ephraim? how shall I deliver thee, Israel? how shall I make thee as Admah? how shall I set thee as Zeboim ? mine heart is turned within me, my repentings are kindled together. I will not execute the fierceness of mine anger, I will not return to destroy Ephraim: for I am God, and not man; the Holy One in the midst of thee," Hos. xi. 7—9. Herein, then, is love.-C. Neale,

NOTES ON THE MONTH.

By a Naturalist.

SEPTEMBER.

THE harvest is over; the fields, which were lately a waving sea of corn, are now covered only with stubble; already the ploughman is at work preparing the earth for fresh seed, to spring up in due season, according to the appointment of the God of nature and providence, and replenish the garners of the husbandman.

September is one of our most delightful months; in the figurative language of poetry, it is that over which Pomona is said especially to preside; for though many flowers are still in their beauty, and many plants blossom only at this season, it is peculiarly the month of fruits. The apple trees are bending beneath their load, and the cider press is prepared; "the downy peach, the shining plum, the ruddy fragrant nectarine," adorn the sunny wall; and there, too, in full ripeness, hangs

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