the earl of Bedford and lord Cromwell. As he passed through the streets, he cried aloud," For the queen! for the queen! a plot is laid for my life!" hoping to engage the populace to rise; but they had received orders from the mayor to keep within their houses, so that he was not joined by a single person. In this manner, attended by a few of his followers, the rest having privately retired, he made towards the river; and taking a boat, arrived once more at Essex-house, where he began to make preparations for his defence. But his case was too desperate for any remedy from valour; wherefore, after demanding in vain for hostages, and conditions from his besiegers, he surrendered at discretion, requesting only civil treatment, and a fair and impartial hearing.

Essex and Southampton were immediately carried to the archbishop's palace at Lambeth, from whence they were next day conveyed to the Tower, and tried by their peers on the nineteenth of February following. Little could be urged in their defence; their guilt was too flagrant, and though it deserved pity, it could not meet an acquittal. Essex after condemnation was visited by that religious horror which seemed to attend him in all his disgraces. He was terrified almost to despair by the ghostly remonstrances of his own chaplain; he was reconciled to his enemies, and made a full confession of his conspiracy. It is alledged upon this occasion, that he had strong hopes of pardon from the irresolution which the queen seemed to discover before she signed the warrant for his execution. She had given him formerly a ring, which she desired him to send her in any emergency of this nature, and that it should procure his safety and protection. This ring was actually sent her by the countess of Nottingham, who being a concealed enemy to the unfortunate earl, never delivered it; while Elizabeth was secretly fired at his obstinacy in making no application for mercy and forgiveness. The fact is, she appeared herself as much an object of pity, as the unfortunate nobleman she was induced to condemn. She signed the warrant for his execution, she countermanded it, she again resolved on his death, and again felt a new return of tenderness. At last she gave her consent to his execution, and was never seen to enjoy one happy day more.

With the death of her favourite Essex, all Elizabeth's pleasures seemed to expire; she afterwards went through the business of the state merely from habit, but her satisfactions were no more. Her distress was more than sufficient to destroy the remains of her constitution; and her end was now visibly seen to approach. Her voice soon after left her, she fell into a lethargic slumber, which continued some hours, and

she expired gently without a groan, in the seventieth year of her age, and the forty-fifth of her reign. Her character differed with her circumstances; in the beginning she was moderate and humble; towards the end of her reign, haughty and severe. Though she was possessed of excellent sense, yet she never had the discernment to discover that she wanted beauty; and to flatter her charms at the age of sixty-five was the surest road to her favour and esteem.

But whatever were her personal defects as a queen, she is ever to be remembered by the English with gratitude. It is true, indeed, that she carried her prerogative in parliament to its highest pitch; so that it was tacitly allowed in that assembly, that she was above all laws, and could make and unmake them at her pleasure; yet still she was so wise and good, as seldom to exert that power which she claimed, and to enforce few acts of her prerogative, which were not for the benefit of her people. It is true, in like manner, that the English during her reign were put in possession of no new or splendid acquisitions; but commerce was daily growing up among them, and the people began to find that the theatre of their truest conquests was to be on the bosom of the ocean. A nation which hitherto had been the object of every invasion, and a prey to every plunderer, now asserted its strength in turn, and became terrible to its invaders. The successful voyages of the Spaniards and Portuguese began to excite their emulation; and they planned several expeditions for discovering a shorter passage to the East Indies. The famous Sir Walter Raleigh, without any assistance from government, colonized New England, while internal commerce was making equal improvements; and many Flemings, persecuted in their native country, found, together with their arts and industry, an easy asylum in England. Thus the whole island seemed as if roused from her long habits of barbarity; arts, commerce, and legislation began to acquire new strength every day; and such was the state of learning at that time, that some fix that period as the Augustan age of England. Sir Walter Raleigh and Hooker are considered as among the first improvers of our language. Spenser and Shakespeare are too well known as poets to be praised here: but of all mankind, Francis Bacon, lord Varulam, who flourished in this reign, deserves, as a philosopher, the highest applause; his style is copious and correct, and his wit is only surpassed by his learning and penetration. If we look through history, and consider the rise of kingdoms, we shall scarce find an instance of a people becoming in so short a time, wise, powerful, and happy. Liberty, it is true, still continued to fluctuate; Eli

zabeth knew her own power, and stretched it to the very verge of despotism; but now that commerce was introduced, liberty soon after followed; for there never was a nation perfectly commercial, that submitted long to slavery.

CHAP. XXVII.

JAMES I.

A. D. 1602-1625.

AMES, the Sixth of Scotland, and the First of England, the son of Mary, came to the throne with the universal approbation of all orders of the state, as in his person was united every claim that either descent, bequest, or parliamentary sanction could confer. However, in the very beginning of his reign a conspiracy was set on foot, the particulars of which are but obscurely related. It is said to be begun by lord Grey, lord Cobham, and Sir Walter Raleigh, who were all condemned to die, but had their sentence mitigated by the king. Cobham and Grey were pardoned after that they had laid their heads on the block. Raleigh was reprieved, but remained in confinement many years afterwards, and at last suffered for this offence, which was never proved.

Mild as this monarch was in toleration, there was a project contrived in the very beginning of his reign for the re-establishment of popery, which, were it not a fact known to all the world, could scarcely be credited by posterity. This was the gunpowder plot, than which a more horrid or terrible scheme never entered into the human heart to conceive.

The Roman catholics had expected great favour and indulgence on the accession of James, both as a descendent of Mary, a rigid catholic, and also as having shewn some partiality to that religion in his youth; but they soon discovered their mistake, and were at once surprised and enraged to find James on all occasions express his resolution of strictly executing the laws enacted against them, and in persevering in the conduct of his predecessor. This declaration determined them upon more desperate measures; and they at length formed a resolution of destroying the king and both houses of parliament at a blow. The scheme was first broached by Robert Catesby, a gentleman of good parts and ancient family,, who conceived that a train of gunpowder might be so placed under the parliament-house, as to blow up the king and all the members at once.

How horrid soever the contrivance might appear, yet every

member seemed faithful and secret in the league; and about two months before the sitting of parliament, they hired a house in the name of Percy, adjoining to that in which the parliament was to assemble. Their first intention was to bore a way under the parliament-house, from that which they occupied, and they set themselves laboriously to the task; but when they had pierced the wall, which was three yards in thickness, on approaching the other side, they were surprised to find that the house was vaulted underneath, and that a magazine of coals was usually deposited there. From their disappointment on this account they were soon relieved by information, that the coals were then selling off, and that the vaults would be let to the highest bidder. They therefore seized the opportunity of hiring the place, and bought the remaining quantity of coals with which it was then stored, as if for their own use. The next thing done was to convey thither thirty-six barrels of gun-powder, which had been purchased in Holland; and the whole was covered with the coals and with faggots brought for that purpose. Then the doors of the cellar were boldly thrown open, and every body admitted as if it contained nothing dangerous.

Confident of success, they now began to plan the remaining part of their project. The king, the queen, and prince Henry, the king's eldest son, were all expected to be present at the opening of the parliament. The king's second son, by reason of his tender age, would be absent, and it was resolved that Percy should seize or assassinate him. The princess Elizabeth, a child likewise, was kept at lord Harrington's house in Warwickshire; and Sir Everard Digby was to seize her, and immediately proclaim her queen.

The day for the sitting of parliament now approached. Never was treason more secret, or ruin more apparently inevitable; the hour was expected with impatience, and the conspirators gloried in their meditated guilt. The dreadful secret, though communicated to above twenty persons, had been religiously kept during the space of near a year and a half; yet when all the motives of pity, justice, and safety, were too weak, a remorse of private friendship saved the kingdom.

Sir Henry Percy, one of the conspirators, conceived a design of saving the life of lord Mounteagle, his intimate friend and companion, who also was of the same persuasion with himself. About ten days before the meeting of parliament, this nobleman, upon his return to town, received a letter from a person unknown, and delivered by one who fled as soon as he had discharged his message. The letter was to this effect: "My lord, stay away from this parliament; for God and

man have concurred to punish the wickedness of the times. And think not slightly of this advertisement, but retire yourself into your country, where you may expect the event in safety. For though there be no appearance of any stir, yet I say they will receive a terrible blow this parliament; and yet they shall not see who hurts them. This counsel is not to be condemned, because it may do you good, and can do you no harm. For the danger is past as soon as you have

burned the letter."

Nov. 5.

The contents of this mysterious letter surprised and puzzled the nobleman to whom it was addressed; and though inclined to think it a foolish attempt to affright and ridicule him, yet he judged it safest to carry it to lord Salisbury, secretary of state. Lord Salisbury too was inclined to give little attention to it, yet thought proper to lay it before the king in council, who came to town a few days after. None of the council were able to make any thing of it, although it appeared serious and alarming. In the universal agitation between doubt and apprehension, the king was the first who penetra ted the meaning of this dark epistle. He concluded that some sudden danger was preparing by gunpowder; and it was thought advisable to inspect all the vaults below both houses of parliament. This care belonged to the earl of Suffolk, lordchamberlain, who purposely delayed the search till the day before the meeting of parliament. He remarked those great piles of faggots which lay in the vault under the house of peers, and seized a man preparing for the terrible enterprise, dressed in a cloak and boots, and a dark lanthorn in his hand. This was no other than Guy Fawkes, who had just disposed every part of the train for its taking fire the next morning, the matches and other combus tibles being found in his pockets. The whole of the design was now discovered, but the atrociousness of his guilt, and the despair of pardon, inspiring him with resolution, he told the officers of justice, with an undaunted air, that had he blown them and himself up together he had been happy. Be fore the council he displayed the same intrepid firmness, mixed even with scorn and disdain, refusing to discover his associates, and shewing no concern but for the failure of his enterprise. But his bold spirit was at length subdued; being confined to the Tower for two or three days, and the rack just shewn him, his courage, fatigued with so long an effort, at last failed him, and he made a full discovery of all his accomplices.

1605.

Catesby, Percy, and the conspirators who were in London, hearing that Fawkes was arrested, fled with all speed to War

N