to hardships, abandoned themselves to despair, and suffered their unwieldy ships, impelled by the fury of the storm, to drive on the western isles of Scotland, or the coast of Ireland, where they were miserably wrecked. Few ships returned to Spain, and the seamen and soldiers who remained were so overcome with hardships and fatigue, and so dispirited by their discomfiture, that they filled all Spain with accounts of the desperate valour of the English, and of the tempestuous violence of the ocean that surrounds them. The fleet consisted of a hundred and thirty vessels, of which nearly a hundred were galleons, and were of greater size than any ever before used in Europe. It carried on board nineteen thousand two hundred and ninety-five soldiers, eight thousand four hundred and fifty-six mariners, two thousand and eighty-eight galley slaves, and two thousand six hundred and thirty great pieces of brass ordnance. It was victualled for six months, and was attended by six lesser ships, called caravels, and ten salves, with six oars a piece. Hume, vol. v., p. 342.

ELIZABETH AT TILBURY.

All the preparations for defence being finally arranged, her majesty resolved to visit in person the camp at Tilbury, for the purpose of encouraging her troops. It had been a part of the commendation of Elizabeth, that in her public appearances, of what soever nature, no sovereign on record had ever acted the part so well, or with such universal applause. But on this memorable and momentous occasion, when, like a second Boadicia, armed for defence against the invader of her country, she appeared at once the warrior and the queen, the sacred feelings of the moment, superior to all kinds of artifices of factitious dignity and studied condescension, inspired her with that impressive earnestness of look, of words, of gesture, which alone is truly dignified and truly eloquent; mounted on a noble charger, with a general's truncheon in her hand, a corslet of polished steel laced over her magnificent apparel, and a page in attendance, bearing her white plumed helmet, she rode bareheaded from rank to rank, with a courageous deportment and smiling countenance, and amid the affectionate plaudits and shouts of military ardour which burst from the animated and admiring soldiery, she addressed them in the following brief but spirited harangue :—

66

"My loving people,-We have been persuaded by some that are careful of our safety, to take heed how we commit ourselves to armed multitudes, for fear of treachery; but I assure you I do not desire to live to distrust my faithful and loving people. Let tyrants fear: I have always so behaved myself that, under God, I have placed my chiefest strength and safeguard in the loyal hearts and goodwill of my subjects, and therefore I am come amongst you at this time, not as for my recreation or sport, but being resolved in the midst and heat of the battle to live or die amongst you all, to lay down for my God, and for my kingdom, and for my people, my honour and my blood even in the dust. I know I have

but the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I have the heart of a king—and a king of England, too-and think foul scorn that Parma, or Spain, or any prince of Europe, should dare to invade the borders of my realms; to which, rather than any dishonour should grow by me, I myself will take up arms; I myself will be your general, judge, and rewarder of every one of your virtues in the field. I know already by your forwardness that you have deserved rewards and crowns, and we do assure you, on the word of a prince, they shall be duly paid you. In the meantime my lieutenant-general shall be in my stead, than whom never prince commanded a more noble and worthy subject; not doubting by your obedience to my general, by your concord in the camp, and your valour in the field, we shall shortly have a famous victory over those enemies of my God, of my kingdoms, and my people.' Elizabeth at the time was fifty-five years old.

Miss Aikin, vol. ii., p. 229.

MEN OF NOTE IN ELIZABETH'S REIGN.

The ocean is not more boundless than the number of men of note in her time; but though all of them cannot be reckoned, yet some of them must not be omitted; and to begin with the statesmen. Robert, Earl of Leicester; Sir William Cecil, Lord Burleigh; as also Sir Francis Walsingham. Famous seamen were the Earl of Cumberland, the Lord Thomas Howard, afterwards Earl of Suffolk; and of meaner rank Sir John Hawkins, Sir Martin Forbysher, Sir Walter Raleigh, Cavendish, Preston, Ryman, and to name the worthiest last, Sir Francis Drake, who, though he were but a short square-bodied man, yet his great acts have made the Spaniards believe that he was some goodly personage. Great commanders by land were Robert, Earl of Essex, the Lord Willoughby, the Lord Grey of Wilton, Sir Francis Vere, Sir Roger Williams, Bakervile, Savage, and the honour of his family and our English nation, Sir John Norris. Learned gentlemen and writers were Sir Thomas Challoner, Roger Asham, born in Yorkshire, notably skilled in the Greek and Latin tongues, who had some time been schoolmaster to Queen Elizabeth and her secretary for the Latin tongue, but taking too great delight in gaming and cock-fighting, he both lived and died in mean estate, yet left behind him sundry monuments of wit and industry. Sir Thomas Smith, Sir Henry Savill, but above all the admirable Sir Philip Sidney, who, by writing in a light argument, showed how excellently and beyond all comparison he could have done in a grave. Learned divines were John Jewel, John Whitaker, Bilson, Bishop of Winchester, Richard Hooker, preacher at the Temple, who with too much meekness smothered his great learning, Alexander Nowel, Dean of St. Paul's. After such men it might be thought ridiculous to speak of stage players; but seeing excellency in the meanest things deserves remembering, and Roscius, the comedian, is recorded in history with such commendation, it may be allowed us to do the like with some of our nation. Richard Bourbidge

and Edward Allen, two such actors as no age must ever look to see the like: and to make their comedies complete, Richard Tarleton, who for the part called the clown's part, never had his match, never will have. For writers of plays themselves William Shakespeare and Benjamin Johnson have especially left their names recommended to posterity.

Sir Richard Baker's Chronicle, p. 500.

THE COUNTESS OF NOTTINGHAM AND THE RING. The Countess of Nottingham, who was a relation, but no friend, of the Earl of Essex, being on her death-bed, entreated to see the queen, declaring that she had something to confess to her before she could die in peace. On her majesty's arrival the countess produced a ring, which she said the Earl of Essex had sent her after his condemnation, with an earnest request that she would deliver it to the queen, as the token by which he implored her mercy, but which, in obedience to her husband, to whom she haa communicated the circumstance, she had hitherto withheld, for which she entreated the queen's forgiveness. On the sight of the ring Elizabeth instantly recognised it as one which she had herself presented to her unhappy favourite, on his departure for Cadiz, with the tender promise that, of whatsoever crimes his enemies might have accused him, or whatsoever offences he might actually have committed against her, on his returning to her that pledge, she would either pardon him, or admit him at least to justify himself in her presence. Transported at once with grief and rage, on learning the barbarous infidelity of which the earl had been the victim, and herself the dupe, the queen shook in her bed the dying countess, and vehemently exclaiming that God might forgive her, but she never could, flung out of the chamber. Returning to her palace she surrendered herself without resistance to the despair which seized her heart, on this fatal and too late disclosure; hence her refusal of medicine, and almost of food; hence her obstinate silence, interrupted only by sighs, groans, and broken hints of a deep sorrow which she cared not to reveal; hence the days and nights passed by her seated on the floor, sleepless, her eyes fixed, and her finger pressed upon her mouth; hence, in short, all those heart-rending symptoms of incurable and mortal anguish, which conducted her, in the space of twenty days, to the lamentable termination of a long life of power, prosperity, and glory. Miss Aiken's Memoirs, vol. ii., p. 497.

DEATH OF ELIZABETH.

It was in the beginning of March, 1603, that the mortal illness came on, at first in the form of a rheumatic gout in her arms and fingers, which diminished her usual sleep, but the pain of which she bore with firmness, and was desirous not to notice. Light became unpleasant to her; and her mind turned on depressing recollections, especially that she had consented to bloodshed in the execution of Lord Essex. The hectic indisposition continued a

fortnight without assuming the form of a decided fever, and the nervous melancholy and general decline increased, accompanied by symptoms which indicated that the heart was diseased, and by laboured and convulsive respiration. She was anxious to attend the public service of her chapel, in her usual seat, but when the hour came she was unable to go into it, and was compelled to be content to hear it, in a helpless state, in an adjoining apartment. The malady increased upon her till even her food became unacceptable to her; she refused, also, the aid of medicine, because she felt no local pain. She sought to be alone, and declined into an indifference of worldly concerns, and to an insensibility to external sensations, while her body was perceptibly wasting away.* Advised by her attendant prelates to direct her spirit to the Divine Being, she gently assured them that she had for some time done so. The inability to sleep was succeeded by an augmented failure of the organs of speech; yet she retained the use of her intellectual faculties, and could exhibit her devout feelings, by moving her hands and eyes into the attitude of adoration and supplication. When questioned by three of her most confidential ministers, a few days before, as to her successor, she had mentioned the Scottish king; another manuscript account compresses her answer, and perhaps more truly, considering her feeble and exhausted condition, into two short sentences-" No base person, but a king"-the latter term sufficiently pointed to James, the son of Mary, as no other sovereign possessed so near a right. Being again specifically desired on the next day, before others of the council, if she meant the King of Scotland to "hold up her hand in token of assent if her voice could not express it," she lifted up her hand to her head, and turned it round in the form of a circle, obviously implying the regal coronation. The evening afterwards was passed by her in earnest devotion, which, notwithstanding her debility, she continued till very late. On the last day of March she rallied a little, took some refreshment, and ordered some religious treatises to be read to her. She was removed from her cushions to her bed; but her medical attendants soon relinquished their hopes. She lost her speech entirely. She tasted

*She remained lying upon the cushions four days and nights at the least; all about her could not persuade her either to take any sustenance, or to go to bed. Monmouth, p. 117.

Her funeral is thus described, M.S. Ellis, 195:-" In an open chariot, drawn by four horses, lay the body of the dead queen, embalmed and enclosed in lead; over it was her image, in her parliament robes, with a crown on her head, and a sceptre in her hand, all exquisitely framed to resemble life, at sight whereof divers of the beholders fell a weeping, especially women, who naturally are tender of heart, and have tears at command."

This celebrated image, said to be modelled from a cast taken after death, is still in existence in Westminster Abbey, forming part of the ancient wax work so long exhibited there. As a faithful record of the person and costume of the great queen it is most interesting; but the wax work chamber is now closed, and the public have no longer an opportunity of seeing this great historical curiosity; there is, however, an admirable description of it in Miss Agnes Strickland's History, vol. vii., p. 298.

nothing again; and on the next day was seen to lay wholly on one side, without speaking, and without looking on any one. This half-conscious state continued until the succeeding night, when she fell into a sleep of five hours, to wake, and about three hours after midnight gently to expire, on the 24th of March, 1603, in the 70th year of her age, having survived every royal, papal, noble and priestly conspirator that had plotted or acted against her.

Sharon Turner's History of England, vol. xii., p. 548.

PERSON AND CHARACTER.

Elizabeth is described by those that knew her to have been as to her person handsome, well made, strongly limbed, rather tall than middle sized, her forehead high and round, her eyes brown and lively, her complexion fair, her hair of a lightish yellow, her fingers long and taper, her voice clear and shrill; she had a fine set of teeth, and her outward form was much set off by an air that was very agreeable. She loved and encouraged mirth, was pleasant in conversation, graceful and active in all exercises, whether on foot or on horseback, danced extremely fine, and, when in the last year of her life she danced La Galliarde with the Duke of Nevers; she did it with such an attitude and grace, that everybody was struck with admiration. She had a very good ear, and was well skilled in music, and played upon several instruments. After she came to the throne, whether she grew fonder of her own figure, or thought that majesty required a sumptuousness of apparel, she laid aside that negligence which she used before in this respect, and wore constantly a dress exceeding rich, which she varied continually, according to the fashions of different parts of Europe, as she fancied they best became her, a point on which she was very solicitous. This humour did not leave her when she was past her grand climacteric; she dressed in her old age like a young girl, and still shone in her jewels, diamonds, and other precious stones, afraid of nothing so much as of being thought old. She liked flattery, especially upon the subject of her beauty, however fulsome it appeared to everybody else; was fond of being courted, and did not easily quit her favourites. She had an admirable understanding, ready wit, great penetration, and a solid judgment; her ability for government was never questioned by any one. A profound dissimulation reigned in all her conduct and professions. She had no notion of generosity nor magnanimity; nor was she by inclination either beneficent or magnificent. The vast multitude of penal laws passed in her reign will ever be a reproach to her government; and the series of falsehood, hypocrisy, and cruelty, appearing in all her conduct towards Mary, Queen of Scots, particularly in signing the warrant for her execution, will be an eternal blot upon her memory.

CHRONICLE.

Carte, vol. iii., p. 701.

1559, January 15. The queen crowned at Westminster by the