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(i\\ /re- QJ LIBRARY OF THE Ul (51 4 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA ^j ^mwQ UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA ^9 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA •3^ LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY OF THE Ul kW^ 1 a QUEEN ELIZABETH QUEEN ELIZABETH BO I NDON REET liTMM/ XI ,lloO 'Mil ill ,lm;illifl . / vil - » 1 1 • J ii ■ QUEEN ELIZABETH Ear-simile in colours fro mi a miniature by N. Milliard, in th ,i)'nrni^ Hr.3 lo iioiliollol.) **(ij m ■i-iul)H| j; iito THE YOUTH OF ELIZABETH 9 As nothing could be discovered from Elizabeth, Tyrwhit turned his atten- tion to her imprisoned steward, Parry, and extracted from him an account of the unseemly familiarities between his mistress and Lord Seymour. Catherine Ashley could not deny her knowledge of them, and furnished a few more particulars. Then Tyrwhit returned to Elizabeth and put the two confessions into her hand. She read them abashed and breathless. But when Tyrwhit told her that Catherine Ashley would say nothing till she was con- fronted with Parry, the Tudor rage broke forth. " False wretch," she cried, "he promised not to confess to death; how could he make such a promise and break it?" Yet, downcast as she was at reading the record of her indiscretion, she soon recovered her presence of mind. She saw that on the main points her servants had stood firm. They sacrificed Elizabeth's private character to maintain her political innocence. She had been a shame- less flirt, but had never contemplated marrying Seymour without the consent of the Council. Elizabeth took her cue accordingly. Tyrwhit could extract nothing from her except scraps of foolish conversation about the possibility of such a marriage, in answer to which suggestions she always reserved the Council's assent. "They all sing the same song," said Tyrwhit wearily, "and so I think they would not do unless they had got the note before." After all his efforts, the girl of sixteen baffled the experienced man of affairs. The Council proceeded against Seymour on other grounds, but administered a rebuke to Elizabeth in a letter which informed her : "Catherine Ashley, who hithertofore hath had the special charge to see to the good education and government of your person, hath shown herself far unmeet to occupy any such place longer about your Grace. Being informed that she hath not shewed herself so much attendant to her office in this past as we looked for at her hands, we have thought good somewhat to say roundly to her in that behalf." Elizabeth was informed that Lady Tyrwhit had been appointed in Catherine Ashley's stead, and was recommended to follow her good advice. At first, Elizabeth was furious. She would have no mistress save Catherine Ashley; she had not behaved so as to deserve the change. She wept all night, and sulked all the following day. Her mood was changed by a letter 10 QUEEN ELIZABETH from the Protector, which told her that Seymour's household was broken up, and enabled her to see that his ruin was imminent. Then Elizabeth's spirit began to droop, though she vigorously defended Seymour if anything was said against him. She wrote to the Protector, remonstrating at the removal of Catherine Ashley as likely to corroborate the rumours which were current about her conduct. She asked that these rumours might be contradicted by a proclamation. This last request was gratified. But one of the articles against Seymour was that he had "attempted and gone about to marry the Ring's Majesty's sister, the Lady Elizabeth, second inheritor in remainder to the Crown." On March 20, 1.549, Seymour's head fell on the scaffold. This was a crushing experience for a girl of sixteen. It was undoubtedly the great crisis of Elizabeth's life, and did more than anything else to form her character. She learned, and she never forgot the lesson, that it was dangerous to follow her inclinations and indulge her affections. She dearly loved Seymour, with the ardour of a passionate girl. She was on the brink of a secret marriage with him, though she knew his coarse character and had been witness of the unhappiness of his former wife. She had a strong feel- ing of attachment for Catherine Ashley, and had trusted to her discretion. She learned the limitations of human trustworthiness, the inevitableness of personal responsibility. All this was an unwelcome revelation of life and its issues to herself. She must trust in herself and in herself only. Rigorous self-repression and self-restraint could alone enable her to stand securely. Love, trust, confidence were all beset with dangers. In the quietness which followed this period of trial she thought out the meaning of what she had endured. She had loved, and her lover had perished. She could ask herself what that love had meant to her. Was it more than a temporary stirring of the senses? Was it worth the risk which she had run, the imprudence which she had committed ? What would have been her future had she married Seymour? Was he capable of loving her in return, or was she merely a puppet in his hands, a piece in his game of political self-seeking ? She must have recalled his treatment of the Queen-Dowager, whose tears she had seen flow, whose dying words of disappointment had been repeated THE YOUTH OF ELIZABETH 11 to her. At the time, secure in her own youthful charms, she had thought disdainfully of the middle-aged Queen. If she had become Seymour's wife, would she have been any the happier? Would not she too have been aban- doned when her usefulness was past? She had seen the Lady Jane Grey, an inmate of Seymours house, another girl whose hand was of value for an intriguer to dispose of. What place had love in such matters as these? It was possible for a village maiden : it was an impossible luxury for one who had a shred of claim to the throne of England. We know how thoroughly Elizabeth understood these truths and acted upon them later. Her success in so doing was due to the severe teaching of experience. When she recovered from the shock of Seymour's death and could look around her, she saw that it was necessary to recover her character and restore her reputation. No one could be better fitted to help her than Lady Tyrwhit, who was a wise, sympathetic, and pious woman. She had formed one of the household of the Queen-Dowager, knew what Elizabeth had gone through, and could talk to her freely about the past. Under her care, Elizabeth once more lived a quiet and studious life, principally at Hatfield. Ascham was summoned to be her tutor and was astonished at the rapidity of her progress. When she had just entered her seventeenth year she could speak French and Italian as well as English; Latin with ease, Greek moderately. But her taste for literature was genuine : she appreciated nice distinctions in the use of words, and was a severe critic of style. She read with Ascham nearly the whole of Cicero and Livy, Sophocles, and several orations of Isocrates, besides the Greek Testament, the writings of St. Cyprian and the Commonplaces of Melanchthon. She was fond of music, but did not devote much time to it, nor to dress, in which she loved simplicity. Her literary tastes were enduring ; her love of simplicity soon passed away. Indeed, it was never real, and Ascham's mention of it shows that Elizabeth was acting a part. She had been detected as a shameless coquette ; she adopted the attitude of a modest and pious maiden. It was the wisest thing which she could do; for the times were stormy, and their signs were hard to read. Before the end of 1550, the Protector's power had fallen before 12 QUEEN ELIZABETH the superior craft of John Dudley, Earl of Warwick. Warwick's plans were deeper than those of Somerset, and required greater preparation. As the first step towards a distinctive policy, Warwick allied himself with the more advanced reformers in religion, and demanded strict uniformity of religious practice. This entirely accorded with the views of the young King. But there was one who could not be induced to swerve from her former habit, the Princess Mary; and all efforts to subdue her obstinacy were in vain. It was at this time that Elizabeth was summoned to Court (March, 1551) to act as a foil to the recalcitrant Mary. Elizabeth appeared with studious simplicity and Edward welcomed her as "his dear and sweet sister, Temperance." Elizabeth had achieved her end. She had established her character. Her "maidenly apparel," we are told, " made the noblemen's wives and daughters ashamed to be dressed and painted like peacocks." She was in a fair way to become the idol of the reforming party. She returned to Hatfield well satisfied with her position, which she main- tained with quiet splendour. Her household accounts for the year from October, 1551, to October, 1552, have been preserved and give us an insight into her daily life. Her income was nearly £6,000 a year, equivalent to £30,000 of our money. Her expenditure was mostly spent in maintaining her establishment and dispensing hospitality. Her kitchen account was £500, besides £312 for poultry; her bakehouse cost £212; wax candles and spices amounted to £340 ; wages to £426 ; and wine and beer to £306. She spent little on her dress, less on her books; and her alms only reached the mode- rate sum of £7 17s. She made some profit by selling things to the royal household. The accounts themselves were submitted to her and she signed as auditor at the bottom of several pages. It is clear that she was a prudent and thrifty manager, and at the end of the year had a balance in her favour of £1,500. She early developed that financial carefulness which was not the smallest element in her subsequent success. New perils, however, were gathering round her. Edward VI. was visibly dying; and the schemes of Warwick, who had been created Duke of North- umberland, began to take shape. He worked, upon the King's earnest desire, THE YOUTH OF ELIZABETH 13 for the establishment of Protestantism in England and for its future mainte- nance. To this primary object all else must give way. If Henry VIII. could dispose of the succession by his will, so could his son. It was not fitting that Henry's daughters should succeed their brother. Mary was a favourer of the old religion. She could be set aside on the ground of illegitimacy, and the same plea must include Elizabeth also. The line of Henry's elder sister, Margaret of Scotland, was to be passed over for that of the younger sister Mary, and the crown conferred on the Lady Jane Grey, who was married to a son of Northumberland. To clear the ground for this arrangement a marriage had been proposed between Elizabeth and the King of Denmark. The proposal came to nothing. When Edward VI. died, July 6th, 1553, all was ready for the proclamation of the Lady Jane, and the imprisonment and death of Mary and Elizabeth. Mary was the more important, and must be secured at once. Northumber- land hid the fact of the King's death, and invited Mary to her brother's deathbed. But Mary was informed of the truth, while on her way, and took refuge in Norfolk. It was necessary for Northumberland to go in pursuit of her, a comparatively easy matter. But Northumberland had not counted on Mary's resoluteness, and on the objection of the English people to revolu- tions. Mary summoned the people to her side as their lawful Queen, and they answered her call. The victory of Northumberland, they saw, would mean a long period of disquiet, and insecurity of life and property. Town after town declared in Mary's favour, and before Northumberland could reach her she was guarded by an army of 40,000 men. The scheme to dispossess her completely failed. Elizabeth, meanwhile, remained quietly at Hatfield, whence she wrote to congratulate Mary on her accession. She came to London to greet the Queen on her entrance, August 3, 1553. Mary received her graciously and gave her the chief place after herself, though she must have known that the graceful figure and youthful vivacity of Elizabeth threw into the shade her own careworn face, grown old before its time. Doubtless, Mary wished to do her duty by her sister ; but each must have felt that there was a gulf of 14 QUEEN ELIZABETH separation between the daughter of Catherine and the daughter of Anne Boleyn. The one passionately desired to wipe away all that happened since the days when Catherine stood by the side of Henry, his undoubted wife. The other must have marvelled sometimes at the thoughts of all that had occurred to call her into being ; she must have felt that she embodied in herself the principles of a mighty revolution. This difference between the two sisters was inevitable. It showed itself at once, when Mary did not attend the funeral of Edward, but was present at a Requiem Mass in the chapel of the Tower. She invited Elizabeth to accompany her, but Elizabeth declined. Mary would not brook resistance to her will. Either Elizabeth must conform to her religious practices, or else must leave the Court. Elizabeth's position was difficult. She had been brought up in the religious ideas which prevailed in directing the policy of Henry VIII., the acceptance of the results of the New Learning, and the reform of the Church in accordance with a fuller understanding of the Scriptures and of Christian antiquity. She had no sympathy with the more advanced views of Continental Protestantism, which had been favoured by Northumberland for the purpose of forming a party in England which depended on himself. That party had fallen, and Mary was bent upon using her victory to restore the old Church. How far that was possible remained to be seen. This, at all events, was certain, that the Church could never again be what it had been in the days of Wolsey. Its exact form remained to be determined. Mary's personal opinions could not be impressed upon the English people all at once For this reason, she was anxious that they should be adopted by those immediately around her; and, first of all, by Elizabeth. Elizabeth felt that, if she was entirely obsti- nate, she would seem to identify herself with the Protestant party, which though fallen for a time, was sure to raise its head. If she did so, she would expose herself to suspicion, and would be regarded as a source of political danger to Mary. She knew that already the foreign ambassadors advised Mary to remove from her path one who was her natural rival. What- ever else might happen, Elizabeth had no wish to appear as the champion of the party of Northumberland. Accordingly, she determined to maintain THE YOUTH OF ELIZABETH 15 her own religious position as nearly as she could in the circumstances. To refuse obstinately to go to Mass would be to declare herself a Protestant in the political sense. To go to Mass without a protest would be to declare herself an adherent of the Pope. To go to Mass with marked unwillingness, in obedience to the Queen's wishes, was to declare herself of the same mind as the great majority of the English people, resolute in her adhesion to the principles of what had been done in reforming the English Church, but uncertain under what forms this could best be maintained. She professed herself ready to surrender her own prejudices, and went to Mass with the Queen on September 8, with a downcast look, complaining of illness on the way. After this concession on her part she was given the first place after the Queen at the ceremony of the Coronation, on October 1. Elizabeth knew the value of this public recognition, and felt that for the present she had done all that could be done. She saw that amid the intrigues which gathered round Mary, her own position in the Court was dangerous. She had the wisdom to withdraw in time. After several requests, she obtained permission to depart and set out for her house of Ashbridge, on December 6. No sooner had she arrived than she wrote to Mary for ornaments for her chapel. She knew Mary's weak side. She chose to represent herself as one who was seek- ing her way back to the true Church. Few women have been more unhappy than Mary Tudor. She came to the throne with a mind embittered by the sense of past wrongs, with no friend whom she could trust, and no counsellor strong enough to advise her. She was strangely isolated from the actual politics of England. How was she to be attached to them ? Her advisers were agreed that she must marry, and doubtless hoped to manage the Queen through her husband. There was a can- didate ready at hand, Edward Courtenay, Earl of Devon, who had been im- prisoned in the Tower for the last fourteen years, through Henry VIII. 's jealousy of any pretender to the Crown. Courtenay's grandmother was a daughter of Edward IV., and he represented the White Rose. For this cause his father had been beheaded ; his mother and himself, a boy of twelve, confined within the Tower, whence Mary had released him. His birth, his sad story, 16 QUEEN ELIZABETH his handsome face, and his accomplishments made him popular ; and there was a general desire that he should marry the Queen. Had Courtenay been a wiser man, the course of affairs might have been different. But, on his release, he plunged into every kind of folly and excess. Mary had no liking for such a husband. Her eyes were already turned elsewhere. She was devoted to her cousin, the Emperor Charles V., who had always appeared to her as the chivalrous defender of her luckless mother. In the lone hours of her solitude, she had nourished a fantastic reverence for him. She longed to be allied to her mother's house. On his side, Charles V. cherished a dream of universal monarchy, towards which a close hold on England would greatly help. So Charles, through his ambassadors in England, became the director of Mary's policy and cautiously prepared the way for her marriage with his son Philip. But no caution could overcome the repugnance of the English people to this invitation of a foreigner to mix in English affairs. It was in vain to represent to Mary the dangers which she ran. "Rather death," she said, "than marriage with anyone save the Prince of Spain." English patriotism was severely shocked at this prospect, and all who had any motive for disliking Mary's policy combined against her. Behind the English rebels stood France, which was alarmed at the accession of power to its rival, Spain. Early in 1554, a rebellion against Mary broke out in various parts of England. It was easily put down in Devonshire and in the Midlands, but in Kent, Sir Thomas Wyatt repulsed the Royal forces and advanced against London. Mary was lost if she did not assure the fidelity of the citizens. But Mary had no doubt of the justice of her cause and showed no fear. She summoned the citizens to the Guildhall and there addressed them in her deep man's voice, with dignified eloquence. The city was won for the throne. Wyatt 's attack failed, and he was made prisoner on February 7. It was obvious that this insurrection was in favour of Elizabeth. Her name and Courtenay's had been on the lips of the rebels. A copy of a letter from her to the Queen was found in an intercepted dispatch of the French Ambas- sador; Wyatt had sent her a message to withdraw from Ashbridge to Dun- HENRY VII., HENRY VIII., EDWARD VI. AND ELIZABETH A set of four miniatures from the Collection of Her Majesty the Queen, at Windsor. »f he popular; and th id Courten ay been But, on his had no liking She was ared hours . she hi ished a fant. ther's house. On his side, Charles V. cherished a di ild on England would, greatly me the director no doubt of th iifie< <1 for the ii February 7. It was obv . Courlenay's had i the lij her to the Queen was fou on Her name letter from e French AmL vshbridge to Dun- HTaaASLia avit, vr ciflAwaa ,.mv Yfltfaii ,.iiv yhk:hi .losbaiV/ U ,a 99 up 9 rft tf*>(*M «H 1o noi)«IIoO 9ffJ moil SMBJwettB iuoTIo H»« A THE YOUTH OF ELIZABETH 17 nington. Elizabeth's conduct was that of one who waited to see the issue. Mary wrote to her on January 26, expressing fears for her safety and summon- ing her to London. Elizabeth answered that she was too ill to travel, and asked her to send one of her own physicians. She kept her bed and fortified her house at Ashbridge against a surprise. On receiving this answer, Mary was too busy in defending herself to think much of her sister; but when the danger was over, the imperial ambassador pressed for vengeance. It was his interest to remove everyone who might be an obstacle in the way of the Emperors plan of attaching England to the Spanish monarchy. So long as Elizabeth lived she was a source of danger, and this was a good opportunity for silencing her for ever. Mary, however, was averse to bloodshed. The luckless Lady Jane Grey paid the penalty of her unworthy father's treason; but Elizabeth could not safely be condemned unless there was clear evidence against her. Mary showed her intention to proceed with strict regard for justice by sending an escort to bring Elizabeth to London, and placing at its head her great uncle, Lord William Howard. Howard was aware of the importance of gaining time, and due regard was paid to Elizabeth's illness. Leaving Ashbridge on February 12, she travelled only six or seven miles a day, and did not reach Highgate till the loth. There she lay ill of the dropsy, her limbs so swollen that she could go no further. She did not enter London till the 22nd ; seated in an open litter, dressed in white, with pale and haughty face, she was carried to Whitehall amid the respectful silence of the crowd. The rebel leaders confessed that their plan had been to place Elizabeth and Courtenay on the throne. Gourtenay knew of their intention ; it was not certain that Elizabeth did. Strong as were the suspicions against her, nothing could be definitely proved. Moreover, the Council was divided in opinion. Many members, chief amongst whom was Gardiner, were still opposed to the Spanish marriage, and would not do anything that could help it on. Still Elizabeth's enemies so far prevailed that on March 19, she was committed to the Tower. When this order was brought to Elizabeth, she asked permission to write to the Queen. This was given, and sitting down, she wrote a letter of 18 QUEEN ELIZABETH rugged eloquence and force. She protested her innocence, and begged for a personal interview before she was condemned to imprisonment. "You shall never by report know," she continued "unless by yourself you hear. I have heard in my time of many cast away for want of coming to the presence of the Prince. And in late days, I heard my Lord of Somerset say, that if his brother had been suffered to speak with him, he had never suffered. But the persua- sions were made to him so great that he was brought to believe that he could not live safely if the Admiral lived; and that made him consent to his death. Though these persons are not to be compared to your Majesty, yet I pray God that evil persuasions persuade not one sister against the other; and all for that they have heard false report and not hearken to the truth knowing. Therefore once again, kneeling with humbleness of heart, because I am not suffered to bow the knees of my body, I humbly crave to speak with your Highness : which I could not be so bold to desire if I knew not myself most clear as I know myself most true. And, as for the traitor Wyatt, he might peradventure write me a letter ; but, on my faith, I never received any from him. And as for the copy of my letter sent to the French King, I pray God confound me eternally, if ever I sent him word, message, token or letter by any means. And to this truth, I will stand to the death. " No answer was sent to this letter, and Mary rebuked her officers for not punctually doing their duty. Next day, it was Palm Sunday, Elizabeth was taken in a barge to the Tower. At first she refused to alight at the Traitors' Gate, saying she was no traitor. "There is no choice," said one of the Lords, at the same time offering her his cloak as a protection from the rain. She " put it back with a good dash, " and setting her foot upon the stair, said : " Here landeth as true a subject, being prisoner, as ever landed at these stairs, and before thee, God, I speak it, having none other friend but Thee alone. " There was no doubt about Elizabeth's courage and presence of mind. Her letter was written in her usual handwriting, and shows no sign of haste. Its characters are bold ; no flourish is omitted in the signature. Not only was Elizabeth brave, but she was careful to show her bravery. THE YOUTH OF ELIZABETH 19 For two months she remained a close prisoner in the Tower, while her fate was a matter of daily debate. Wyatt was executed, without having said anything which incriminated her. At last, through weariness, it was agreed that her life should be spared. But she was undoubtedly dangerous, as a centre of intrigues; and it was impossible to think that she would not give them encouragement. It would be unwise to release her to live in her own house; so the royal manor of Woodstock was chosen as a place where she could be closely guarded. She was committed to the charge of Sir Henry Bedingfield, whose father had been the guardian of Queen Catherine during her imprison- ment at Kimbolton. She left London on May 19, and in five days reached Woodstock, where she had scanty accommodation assigned her in the Gatehouse. Bedingfield was provided with strict orders by the Council and was over-weighted by the sense of his responsibility. After her accession, Elizabeth said to him : " If we have any prisoner whom we would have sharply and straitly kept, we will send for you." Yet she bore him no ill-will, and recognised that he only obeyed orders. Indeed she must have felt that she was a troublesome captive and often tried him to the utmost. At first, she had neither books, nor pen and ink. When one of her attend- ants sent her a copy of Cicero's De Officiis and the Psalms in Latin, he was reproved by Bedingfield, who felt it his duty to consult the Council before permitting the use of books. When leave was given, Elizabeth asked for an English Bible, which seemed to savour of heresy, as she could read Latin equally well. This new question was referred to the Council, and Elizabeth slipped in a request that she might be permitted to write to the Queen. This was granted, and Elizabeth wrote a fervent protestation of her innocence. Mary answered to Bedingfield that she had no confidence in her protestations, and ended "wherefore our pleasure is not to be hereafter any more molested with such disguise and colourable letters.'' Mary, at least, had made up her mind about Elizabeth's character, and Bedingfield found some difficulty in reducing his message to terms of decent courtesy. Elizabeth was left to her solitary reflections, ill-supplied with books or 20 QUEEN ELIZABETH occupation, restricted in her walks in Woodstock Park, and always under the eye of Bedingfield, who reported to the Council her outbursts of temper as she chafed under this intolerable restraint. She envied the milk-maids, whose song she heard in the distance, and longed to exchange her life for theirs. She wrote in charcoal on a shutter, the following lines expressing her feelings of despair : Oil Fortune, how thy restless wavering stale Hath wrought with cares my troubled wit, Witness this present prison, whither fate Could bear me, and the joys I quit. Thou caus'dst the guilty to be loosed From bands wherein are innocents enclosed, Causing the guiltless to be strait reserved And freeing those that death had well deserved But by her envy can be nothing wrought: So God send to my foes all they have wrought. Quoth Elizabeth, Prisoner. Elizabeth owed her deliverance from captivity to the influence of Philip. When Mary's marriage had been accomplished, and the supremacy of the Pope had been restored, above all when Mary was supposed to be with child, there was no longer the same need for strict caution. Philip was anxious to win the goodwill of the English people. He brought with him ideas founded on a general view of European politics, and could afford to wait for ultimate success. He tried to moderate the excessive zeal of Mary for the re-establish- ment of the old ecclesiastical system. He did not wish that Elizabeth should seem to be a victim to the Spanish alliance. His notion was to dispose of her in marriage to some foreign prince, and so remove her from England to some place where she would be under careful supervision. The Duke of Savoy seemed a suitable husband. He had come to England in Philip's train and was dependent upon imperial protection. But before this marriage could be settled, the Duke was called to the defence of his dominions. However, if Elizabeth was to be married, she could not be kept a prisoner ; and at the end of April, 1555, Bedingfield was ordered to bring her to Hampton Court. On leaving Woodstock, Elizabeth scratched with a diamond THE YOUTH OF ELIZABETH 21 on a glass window the following lines, which express exactly her position : Much suspected by me : Nothing proved can he, Quoth Elizabeth, prisoner. She was perhaps more frank in writing them than she intended to he. She does not deny the truth of the suspicions : the emphasis falls on the absence of proof; she rejoices in her dexterity. After all that she had gone through there was nothing definite against her. She had improved on her previous experience and could leave her prison with her head erect. This was not in accordance with Mary's views of the justice of the case. She believed that her sister had been disloyal ; she knew that she had been adroit. She found it necessary to restore her to some semblance of favour, but she wished to do so as a matter of grace after due submission. Accord- ingly Elizabeth was left for a fortnight in solitude at Hampton Court, that she might feel the necessity of preferring some petition. At the end of that time she had a visit from the Chancellor, Gardiner, who requested her to make submission to the Queen, who, he had no doubt, would be good to her. Elizabeth stood to her position that nothing could be proved against her. She answered boldly that she would rather lie in prison all the days of her life; she craved no mercy, but desired the law if she had offended. The next day, Gardiner returned with a message that the Queen marvelled at her stubbornness : if she did not confess that she had offended, the Queen would seem to have imprisoned her wrongfully. "Nay," said Elizabeth, " it may please her to punish me as she thinketh good." "Well," answered Gardiner, "you must tell another tale before you are set at liberty." Again Elizabeth boldly declared that she would rather be in prison, with honesty and truth, than to be free and suspected by the Queen. Gardiner pointed out the result of this attitude: "Then your Grace hath the vantage of me, and the other Lords, for your wrong and long imprisonment. " Elizabeth affected to misunderstand the argument: "What vantage I have, you know, taking God to record I seek no vantage at your hands for your so dealing with me : but God forgive me and you also." Gardiner retired completely baffled. Elizabeth was left 22 QUEEN ELIZABETH in solitude for a week to consider her position. Then she received a message, at ten o'clock at night, to come before the Queen. The suddenness of the summons and the lateness of the hour foretold some new disaster, and Elizabeth parted from her household, commending herself to their prayers as one who would never see them again. Sir Henry Bedingfield led her through the garden by torchlight and she was ushered into the Queen's bedroom, where Mary was seated in a chair, with all the appearance of a judge. Elizabeth knelt before her, and prayed God to preserve her, as became a true subject, she besought the Queen to regard her as such, whatever reports she might have heard against her. "You will not confess your offence," said Mary, "but stand stoutly in your truth; I pray God it may so fall out. " "If it doth not," was Elizabeth's bold answer, "I request neither favour nor pardon at your Majesty's hands." "Well," said the Queen "you stiffly still persevere in your truth. Belike you will not confess but that you have been wrongfully punished. ' "I must not say so, if it please your Majesty, to you " "Why then, belike you will to others. " "No," replied Elizabeth, "I have borne the burden and must bear it. I humbly beseech your Majesty to have a good opinion of me, and to think me to be your true subject, not only from the beginning hitherto, but for ever as long as life lasteth. " Mary was softened. Indeed Elizabeth at this time was recognised by her enemies as having "a spirit full of incantation. " Mary felt the charm of this bold, yet winsome, girl, and spoke comfortably to her. "God knows," she said in Spanish, with a sigh, as Elizabeth departed. A few days afterwards, Bedingfield and his soldiers were withdrawn. Elizabeth was no longer in custody, but stayed quietly at Hampton Court. It was just at this time that Mary was passing through the bitter experience of her self-deception about her pregnancy. She had mistaken for the promise of a child the signs of an incurable malady, the dropsy. She continued to hope against hope, but felt that those around her did not share her delusions. Elizabeth was the next heir to the throne. If she were set aside, the succession would be Mary of Scotland, whose French marriage made her more dangerous to Philip than was Elizabeth. So Philip was THE YOUTH OF ELIZABETH 23 kindly towards her; and Mary only longed for certainty about her religious convictions. She had little confidence in Elizabeth's conversion to Romanism and plied her with questions. It was in answer to such a question about transsubstantiation that Elizabeth is said to have given the famous answer: Christ was the word that spake it, He took the bread and brake it ; And what His words did make it That I believe and take it. It was a saying the theological truth of which has become more apparent as controversy on the point has progressed. For a time Elizabeth continued to live at the Court, but in October was allowed to return to her house at Hatfield, where she gathered round her her old friends, Catherine Ashley and Parry, and the rest. But England was unquiet; and there were plots against Mary in which Elizabeth's household were perpetually compromised. In the middle of 1556, Sir Thomas Pope was appointed chief officer of her household, to keep a friendly watch over her doings. Again there were proposals for her marriage, first to Emmanuel Philibert, Duke of Savoy, then to Eric, son of the King of Sweden. Elizabeth refused them both, protesting that she loved the state in which she was, so much that she knew no life to be compared with it. She was learning a formula which afterwards stood her in good stead. She was always ready to contemplate matrimony as an ideal possibility, but always found some reason against any particular proposal. Marriage might be good, but not if it diminished her personal importance. Indeed, she was at this time most careful of her popularity, and tried to keep as large a household as she could. She lost no opportunity of appearing in public, and steadily, but cautiously, asserted her position. We have a picture of Elizabeth at this time, drawn by the pen of a Venetian ambassador. It is of interest as showing how she struck an expe- rienced observer, and already possessed all those qualities which she afterwards displayed. ' l She is at present," wrote Giovanni Micheli, "of the age of twenty-three, and is esteemed to be no less fair in mind than she is in 24 QUEEN ELIZABETH body. Albeit, in face she is pleasing rather than beautiful; but her figure is tall and well proportioned. She has a good complexion, though of a somewhat olive tint, beautiful eyes, and above all a beautiful hand, which she likes to show. She is of admirable talent and intelligence, of which she has given proof by her behaviour in the dangers and suspicions to which she has been exposed. She has great knowledge of languages, especially Italian, and for display talks nothing else with Italians. She is proud and haughty; for in spite of her mother, she holds herself as high as the Queen and equally legitimate, alleging in her own behalf that her mother would not cohabit with the King save as his wife, and that with the authority of the Church, after sentence given by the Primate of this realm; so that even if she were deceived having acted in good faith, she contracted a valid marriage and bore her child in lawful wedlock. Even supposing she be a bastard, she bears herself proudly and boastfully through her father, whom she is said to resemble more than does the Queen. Moreover, in the late King's will, she was placed on the same footing as the Queen, and was named her successor, if she died without issue. She lives on what her father bequeathed her, and is always in debt; she would be more so but that she keeps down her household not to awaken the Queen's jealousy. For there is no lord, nor knight in the kingdom, who would not enter her service, or send there his son or brother ; such is the affection and love which is felt towards her. She is always pleading her poverty, in such a dexterous way as to awaken silent compassion and therefore greater affec- tion. For everyone thinks it hard that a King's daughter should be so miser- ably treated. Since Wyatt's rebellion, she has never been free; for though she is allowed to live in her house, some twelve miles distant from London, still she has many guards and spies about her, who observe all comers and goers ; and she never says or does anything that is not at once reported to the Queen. After the Queen's marriage, she came to Court, and contrived to win the favour of the Spaniards, and especially of the King, with whom she is a great favourite. He has steadily opposed the Queen's desires to disinherit her by Act of Parliamant, or declare her illegitimate, or send her out of the kingdom. If it were not for his influence and for the fear of an insurrection, ANNE BOLEYN From a picture in the Collection of Her Majesty the Queen, at Windsor. she ha- in her own behalf For hild jealous] • ■ still - rid spic- - 01 di win the If u-ds, ar; >>urit< Parlia man t, or de> influ . disinh out oi ion. WYSJOa 8WHA .ibabniW ts ,as»op sii) (J*oji;K nil in miij-j'jIloD 'nil ni Diulaiq t moil THE YOUTH OF ELIZABETH 25 the Queen would undoubtedly find some occasion for punishing her, if not for past, at least for present, offences; for there is no conspiracy in which, justly or unjustly, her name is not mentioned and some of her servants involved. But the Queen is obliged to dissemble her dislike, and constrain herself to receive her in public with kindness and honour." Mary's days, however, were drawing to a close. During the summer of 1558 she was ill, and in November, it was plain that she was dying. Philip sent her a message advising her to recognise Elizabeth as her successor. She did so, and sent Elizabeth her last request that she would pay her personal debts, and maintain religion on the basis which she had established. The Spanish envoy who brought Philip's message, the Count de Feria, tried to impress Elizabeth with proper gratitude towards his master. She answered proudly that she owed her safety to the people of England. Then they discussed the future, and the experienced diplomatist saw that her preparations were already made. Her secretary would be Sir William Cecil, a man full of intelligence and capacity, but tainted with heresy. He saw that she would not commit herself to anyone's protection, but would govern for herself. His report to his master was justified by actual facts. "To great subtlety," he wrote, " she adds very great vanity. She has heard great talk of her father's mode of action, and means to follow it. 1 have great fear that she thinks ill in the matter of religion, for I see that she inclines to govern by men who are suspected as heretics. " Elizabeth remained quielly at Hatfield, awaiting the news of Mary's death. She saw, day by day, new visitors arriving. Her plans were already made, and Cecil was ready to take all necessary steps when the moment came. On November 17, the news was brought of Mary's death; but Elizabeth was loo prudent to act in haste, and sent Sir Nicholas Throgmorton to ascertain if the news was true. Before his return, a deputation of the Lords of the Council arrived at Hatfield and greeted their new Queen. Elizabeth stood for a moment irresolute. Then falling on her knees, she exclaimed : "This is the Lord's doing, and it is marvellous in our eyes." Few rulers ever ascended a throne better prepared for her task than did 26 QUEEN ELIZABETH Elizabeth. The facts of her personal experience had corresponded with the experience of the nation. Her own life had been interwoven with the national life. She had been in imminent danger, both under Edward and under Mary. She had suffered, and had learned as the nation learned and suffered. She had lived amongst perils, and had been taught the need of prudence. Self-mastery and self-restraint had been forced upon her. Bitter experience had taught her how little she could satisfy her own desires, how little she could confide in the wisdom or discretion of others. She had spent long hours in enforced solitude and reflection as the drama of events passed before her. She had seen the failures of other lives, their disappointments, and their tragic end. And, in all this, she had been no idle spectator, but one whose own fortunes were deeply involved ; and at each new turn of events men's minds had been more closely directed to her, so that her personal importance had been empha- sized. She seemed to form part of all that the nation had passed through. Now she was called upon to amend the melancholy results of the ill-directed zeal of others, to bring back England to peace and security. For all men's hopes were set upon her as " born mere English, here among us, and there- fore most natural to us. " Men looked back to the days of Henry VIII., which loomed greater through the clouds of the past twelve years of misgovernment, to a time when at least there was an intelligible policy, and welcomed Elizabeth as the true inheritor of her father's spirit. Her training had been severe; but to that severity was due the character and the qualities which enabled her to face the work which lay before her. She would not have had it otherwise, for it made her one with her people. It would seem that, in later days, she wished for a romantic expression in art of the trials and anxieties of her early days. A portrait of her, at Hampton Court, tries to depict in allegory, which it is difficult to unfold with exactness, Elizabeth before her accession. Standing in a forest, under a tree laden with fruit, a fair young girl looks out with eyes fixed on an unknown future. On her head she bears a high white cap of Persian form, whence falls a black veil. Her right hand is placing a crown of flowers upon the head of a stag, whose head is bowed, while tears drop from its eyes. The tree's trunk is covered at the injus . a shield celebi i.h's youth. With pensive thought ru'-. Who QUEEN ELIZABETH'S SALT-CELLAR in the Tower of London. ould sati? the wisdom or discretio mded with I and under Ma i rs in eiifbi solii flection as the drama o! •ointments, and their tragic end. And vn fort been II mi lw< id I> i ys, s if the ti Court, ti which her head sh< laden \* black v is cd HAJJ33-TJA8 3HT3aAXKI3 K3AIQ .nobfioJ "\" '19 //oT 9ilJ ui THE YOUTH OF ELIZABETH 27 with inscriptions which lament the injustice of human lot. On a shield is inscribed a poem, which gives us a clue to the meaning of the whole, and celebrates the trials of Elizabeth's youth. The restless swallow fits my restless mind In still reviving, still renewing, wrongs ; Her just complaints of cruelty unkind Are all the music that my life prolongs. With pensive thought my weeping stag I crown ; Whose melancholy tears my cares express ; His tears and silence, and my sighs unknown Are all the physic that my harms redress. My only hope was in this goodly tree, Which I did plant in love, bring up in care; But all in vain, for now, too late, I see The shales be mine, the kernels others are. My music may be plaints, my physic tears If this be all the fruit my love-tree bears. CHAPTER TWO. PROBLEMS OF THE REIGN. iiii.E Elizabeth was exceptionally fitted to occupy the post of ruler, few rulers ever had before them a more difficult and dangerous inherit- ance. England under Edward VI., had I the prey of self-seeking and unscrupulous adventurers; under Mary, it had been an appendage to the Spanish power. Its fina/ embai suffering from two bad harvests; its navy ircely existent; military forces were disorganised; its defences were crumbling; it had no sta men of mark; its foreign relations « precarious. A iporary memorandum uncholy condition of the country : "The Queen poor; the the nobles poor and decayed; good captains and soldiers )le out of order; justice not < unmeet INTERVIEW BETWEEN HENRY VIII. AND THE EMPEROR MAXIMILIAN From a picture in the Collection of Her Majesty the Queen at Hampton Court. /:/.[. m/ii/AM HOfla'iKH am a/i, iiiv yh/.3h /aavn-aa wsivaa .)uj