infused into his ear some few hours before the trial;' this was probably a conditional promise of mercy. It was suggested by Bacon that Dr. Whiting, the King's chaplain, who had a peculiar talent for 'pressing the consciences of people,' and who had attended Helwysse and Mrs. Turner at their executions, should try his powers of persuasion upon Somerset and also upon the Countess, and induce them to confess.

But it was not enough to engage the professional services of the acute and sagacious Bacon in finding a loophole for the escape of his former favourite; James adopted other and secret means to endeavour to obtain a confession from Somerset. Secretly, and with the utmost caution, he wrote to the Lieutenant of the Tower (Sir George More) a letter,* which he sent by Walter James, the secretary of Somerset, desiring the Lieutenant to admit James to the presence of his prisoner with such secresy as none living may know of it; and after his speaking 'with him in private, he may be returned back again as secretly.' Not satisfied with this letter, four dayst after, James again wrote confidentially to the Lieutenant. In this letter, after saying that he cannot leave off to use all means possible to move Somerset to do that which is both most honourable for the 'King, and his own best,' he adds, 'you shall therefore give him assurance in my name, that if he will yet, before his trial, confess clearly unto the Commissioners his guiltiness of this fact, 'I will not only perform what I promised by my last messenger 'both towards him and his wife, but I will enlarge it,' &c.

Another letter, without date, and to the same effect, followed this; but the King was disappointed. Somerset would not confess.

In the meantime, preparations had been making for the trial of the Earl and Countess. The Peers selected to try the cause had been summoned as far back as the 27th of April, and the day of the trial had been fixed for the 15th of May; but, on account of the Countess's indisposition, it was subsequently postponed until the 23rd, and ultimately until the 24th, on which day the trial of the Countess took place.

Although nearly twelve years had elapsed since the last State trial in Westminster Hall, namely, that of the conspirators in the Gunpowder Plot, the ceremonial attending it was in the recollection of many persons then living. The present ceremony was expected to be still more imposing. An Earl and his Countess the one the favourite of the King, the other a scion of

* Dated 9th May, 1616. Losely Papers, (see Amos, 471,) published in 1835, by A. T. Kemp, Esq.

May 13, 1616.

Trial of the Countess,

37

one of the first families in England-were to be tried by their Peers for felony. The excitement of the people had, during the long interval that had elapsed since the trials in the autumn of the minor agents concerned in the murder of Overbury, subsided almost into a feeling of disappointment; and the notion gained ground that those who were thought to be most culpable, would be permitted to escape the punishment due to their crime. The active preparations for the trials awakened the expectations of the people, and the excitement increased as the appointed day drew near. Seats in Westminster Hall were engaged more than a week before the time; four or five pieces was the ordinary price for a seat. One man, a lawyer, gave as much as 10l., for the two days, for seats for himself and his wife. The sum of 50l. was paid for a corner which would contain a dozen persons. Some, anxious to secure their places, took possession of their seats as early as six o'clock in the morning of the day of trial. Every part of the vast building, except that which was destined for the accommodation of the official personages and the prisoners, was filled with spectators. Every avenue leading to the Hall was crowded with men, women, and children, eager to catch a glimpse of what was passing within, and to ascertain the result of the trial. Business was at a stand; public amusements neglected; even the law-courts were almost deserted; the people themselves being, as Lord Bacon said, more willing to be lookers-on in this business than to follow their own.

The spectacle within was solemn and imposing. At the upper end of the Hall, on an elevated chair of state, and robed in full official costume, sat the good and venerable Lord Chancellor Ellesmere, who, on this occasion, officiated as Lord High Steward. Although in the sixty-sixth year of his age, Ellesmere retained so much of the remarkable personal beauty for which he had always been distinguished, that persons frequently went to the Court of Chancery to enjoy the pleasure of gazing on his handsome face; and happy, says the facetious Fuller, were they who had no other business there. On the right of the Chancellor stood the Usher with the White Rod; on the left, another Usher with the Black Rod; near him, the Garter King-at-Arms and the Seal-bearer. Eight Sergeants-at-arms stood on either side; others were placed behind the Chancellor.

The twenty-one Peers, who constituted the Court of the Lord High Steward, sat on each side on benches placed on a gallery a little lower than the seat of the Chancellor, and approached by twelve steps. In a row behind the Peers sat the Judges in their scarlet robes and collars of SS. The principal seat was occupied by the most eminent of lawyers, Sir Edward Coke, the Lord

6

Chief Justice of England, that spirit of a fiery exhalation, as subtle as active.'* Well-proportioned in his person, regular in feature, his presence added dignity to the Bench; while his grave and composed manner veiled the impetuosity of his temperament. At the further end sat the King's Counsel, at the head of whom was the great Sir Francis Bacon, then Attorney-General. He was easily distinguishable by his lofty, spacious, and open forehead; by the lines of thought upon his brow; and by his bright and penetrating eye. The Clerk of the Crown and his deputy stood in the midst of the court, the Sergeant-Crier beside him. Close by the Court of Common Pleas a small room or cabin had been built as a place of rest for the prisoners. The Lieutenant of the Tower, Sir George More, stood near.

All being silent, the Garter King-at-Arms rose and delivered the patent to the Lord High Steward, who received and kissed it, then handed it to the Clerk of the Court.

The Sergeant-Crier proclaimed silence in the name of the Lord High Steward. The commission was then read; the indictment handed in; Walter Lee, the Sergeant-at-arms, returned the precept for summoning the Peers of Frances Countess of Somerset; the Peers answered severally to their names, each standing up as his name was read, with hat off, until the next was called. The Lieutenant of the Tower was ordered to bring in his prisoner. There was a dead silence, broken only by the rustling of garments, as all the spectators turned towards the place where the prisoner was expected to appear. Sir George More led in the subdued and trembling Countess, and placed her at the bar. The usual ceremony of carrying the axe before her had been dispensed with. The Countess appeared dressed in black, with a cypress chaperon on her head; and a cobweb-lawn ruff and cuffs. Although pale from long confinement and agitation, and suffering perhaps from the painful disease which shortened her life, she was still young,t and eminently beautiful; and the spectators, while they recollected the brilliant fêtes which took place on her marriage with Somerset, and the adulation she had received from all ranks, could not help contrasting the exalted station she had once occupied with her present ignominious position. All present commiserated her unhappy condition. Among the spectators was one who, placed where he could escape observation, fixed his eye sadly and tenderly upon her; it was the young Earl of * Wilson, in Kennet.

† It is stated in the Proceedings for the Divorce, that the Countess was married to Essex in 1603, and that she was then thirteen; that, in 1613, she was between twenty-two and twenty-three; she must, therefore, have been twenty-six at the time of her trial, and not twenty-one, as Mr. Amos supposes. Essex was two years older. Somerset was nearly the same age as the Countess.

The Countess Pleads Guilty.'

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Essex, the boy-husband of her youth, whose affection she had repulsed, whose name she had resigned to assume that of the now disgraced favourite. Unseen by the Countess, Essex had come to witness the result of the trial of her whom he had so fondly loved, for the murder of her new husband's friend.

Frances, Countess of Somerset,' said the Clerk of the Court, 'hold up thy hand.'

She held it up down.

until the Lieutenant told her she might put it The indictment was then read; and when Weston's name was mentioned, the tears ran down her cheeks, and she hid her face with her fan. When the indictment had been read, the Clerk of the Court again addressed her :

Frances, Countess of Somerset, what sayest thou? Art thou guilty of this felony and murder? or not guilty?'

The Countess, making an obeisance to the Lord Steward, answered with a low voice, but wonderful fearful," Guilty."

Sir Francis Bacon then rose. In a speech carefully prepared, he addressed the Lord High Steward, gave his own version of the discovery of the murder, panegyrized the King, and contrasting the humility and repentance of the Countess with the persistent denial of those who had been executed, he held out hopes of pardon to the Countess in terms which could scarcely be misunderstood. In fact, a disposition to extenuate was apparent throughout the proceedings of this day. The King's instructions for the investigation of the murder were then read, and commended by Sir Edward Coke and by the Lord High Steward. The Attorney-General then desired that the confession might be recorded, and judgment given against the prisoner.

'Frances, Countess of Somerset,' said the Clerk of the Court, 'whereas thou hast been indicted, arraign'd, and pleaded guilty, 'as accessory before the fact, of the wilful poisoning and murder of Sir Thomas Overbury, what canst thou now say for thyself why judgment of death should not be pronounced agains 'thee?'

The Countess replied, humbly, fearfully, 'I can much aggra'vate, but nothing extenuate my fault; I desire mercy, and 'that the Lords will intercede for me with the King.'

The voice was so low, that the Lord High Steward could not hear her, and the Attorney-General was obliged to repeat her words.

The Usher of the White Staff, bending his knee, presented it to the Lord High Steward, who pronounced sentence of death against the Countess.

The unhappy woman was re-conducted by the Lieutenant to the Tower, and the Court broke up; yet, notwithstanding sen

tence had been passed, it was the general opinion that her life would be spared.

The trial of Somerset was to take place on the following day. The King had addressed to the Lieutenant another private letter, which showed that his anxiety on the subject of the trial was not at all diminished, and that he still apprehended opposition on the part of Somerset.

As yet, the prisoner did not know what day was fixed for the trial; it was considered time to inform him. Late at night, before retiring to rest, he was told by Sir George More to prepare himself. The Earl absolutely refused, saying, they should carry him in his bed; that the King had assured him he would not bring him to trial, neither did he dare to do so. More was so surprised, that although he was accounted a wise man, yet he was neare at his wits end.' What follows must be related in the words of Sir Anthony Weldon:

'Yet away goes Moore to Greenewich, as late as it was (being twelve at night); bounseth at the back-stayres as if mad, to whome came Jo. Loveston, one of the grooms, out of his bed, enquires the reason of that distemper at so late a season. Moore tells him he must speak with the King. Loveston replyes, "He is quiet" (which, in the Scottish dialect, is fast asleep). Moore says, "You must awake him." Moore was called in. (The chamber left to the King and Moore). He tells the King those passages, and desired to be directed by the King, for he was gone beyond his owne reason, to heare such bold and undutiful expressions from a faulty subject against a just soveraigne. The King falls into a passion of tears: "On my soule, Moore, I wot not what to do! thou art a wise man, help me in this great straight, and thou shalt find thou dost it for a thankful master," with other sad expressions. Moore leaves the King in that passion, but assures him he will prove the utmost of his wit to serve his Majesty; and was really rewarded with a suit worth to him 15007. (although Annandale, his great friend, did cheat him of one-half; so was there falsehood in friendship).

'Sir George Moore returns to Somerset about three next morning of that day he was to come to triall, enters Somerset's chamber, tells him he had been with the King, found him a most affectionate master unto him, and full of grace in his intentions towards him: "But (said he), to satisfie justice, you must appeare, although returne instantly againe, without any further proceedings, only you shall know your enemies and their malice, though they shall have no power over you." With this trick of wit he allayed his fury, and got him quietly, about eight in the morning, to the Hall; yet feared his former bold language might revert againe, and being brought by this trick into the toile, might have more enraged him to fly out into some strange discovery; for prevention whereof he had two servants placed on each side of him, with a cloak on their arms, giving them withall a