the yearly pension king James received from England, and promote his succession to the throne, but that the arrangement should be kept secret.

Lord Mountjoy went to Ireland as governor; he was successful against Tyrone, who had been encouraged by a plenary indulgence for his sins, sent by pope Člement VIII., and by the promise of efficient aid from Spain. In September, 1601, D'Aguilar landed at Kinsale with four thousand Spanish troops, and called upon the people to join him against Elizabeth, who had been declared to be deposed by several popes. These efforts were in vain. Tyrone was defeated, and in January, 1602, the Spanish general surrendered, upon condi tion of being allowed to return to Spain. Mountjoy pursued his success: Tyrone offered to submit upon terms, but the queen would not consent that any should be granted. Her councillors were anxious that Ireland should be brought into a state of peace during her life. With much difficulty the firm resolve of Elizabeth was shaken; but before any final instructions were sent, intelligence of the approach of her decease was made known to Mountjoy. He acted with decision. Tyrone, in a conference, agreed to renounce his regal title and foreign alliances, upon the promise of a full pardon for himself and adherents, and the restoration of his lands and earldom. Hardly had this been effected when the death of Elizabeth took place, but the Irish chieftain had gone too far to recede; the arrangement was completed, though with considerable reluctance on his part.

Towards the close of 1601, the parliament granted a large subsidy for the Irish war, and also firmly demanded redress of grievances in the monopolies, by which the vending of many articles, even some of neces sity, was restricted to certain individuals by the queen's patent. They either retailed the articles at an unreason. able profit, or sold the privilege of dealing in them for considerable sums, which in the end were levied from the purchasers, so that the prices of many commodities

were very greatly advanced. The queen, or her advisers, endeavoured to check these remonstrances; but the public feeling, as well as that of the parliament, was so unequivocally manifested, that Cecil convinced her it was necessary to give way. Elizabeth sent for the speaker, and declared that she never had consented to give a patent, unless she believed it would be beneficial to the public; but she would at once revoke all that were injurious to her subjects, and suspend the rest till their validity could be legally ascertained. This proceeding gave general satisfaction.

In September, 1602, Elizabeth still endeavoured to act with the vigour of her early life; at the age of sixty-seven she went a "progress" as usual. She rode out to view, rather than to join the sports of the field; but actually took part in the dances she delighted to witness. Who should be her successor, was now the general inquiry; but no one dared to start the question, though many corresponded secretly with the Scottish monarch.

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The unlimited height to which the Tudors carried the royal prerogative appears, when the decision of such a question could be supposed to depend upon the will of the reigning monarch. One chief opponent of James was the Jesuit Parsons, who had the insolence his indifference as to the express successor, so that he be a Catholic;" adding, that nothing should induce him to favour the pretensions of any one who was not a papist-an unblushing instance of the manner in which the pope and his votaries assume power over thrones and kingdoms. The pontiff sent breves addressed to the papists in England, exhorting them to refuse to aid any claimant who would not engage to support popery. The moderate party, designated as the English papists, were not willing to entertain such extravagant views; they considered James to be the heir apparent to the English throne, and prepared to support his claim, hoping he would tolerate the profession of their religion. To counteract the domineering

spirit of the Jesuits, they besought the pope to appoint bishops for their church in England; but the influence of Parsons prevailed: only one arch-priest was appointed, who had secret instructions from the pope to consult the chief of the Jesuits in England upon all matters of importance. This led to increased differences between the two parties of English papists. The government noticed it, and encouraged the moderate party: the breach widened, till, in the following reign, the Jesuits actually led on the persecution of their brethren! At this time a commission was appointed, with power to examine all popish priests, and send them into banishment, instead of causing them to be tried for their lives. This was an improved proceeding, a step towards due toleration, but contrary to the desires and plans of the pope, who desired to exasperate matters to the uttermost.

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Feelings of loneliness increasingly pressed upon Elizabeth. Even in 1600, sir Robert Sydney wrote, The queen doth wax weak since the last troubles, and Burghley's death doth often draw tears from her goodly cheeks; she walketh out but little; meditates much alone, and sometimes writes in private to her best friends." Death continued to diminish the number of those in whom she could confide. Her own irresolution and disposition to half measures increased the neglect, and many showed themselves weary of her government. She felt this, and was heard to complain to herself, “I can do nothing; I have not one man in whom I can repose trust; I am a miserable forlorn woman." She was now subject to the last bitter trial of a sovereign ruler-that of seeing those whom she most favoured turning to court her successor, thus worshipping the rising sun: but in a few years the public feeling returned to its former state; the memories of all dwelt with affection upon their recollections of Elizabeth.

The queen also suffered from nervous disease, aggravated by weakness and anxiety, resulting from the weighty cares of government. In October, 1601,

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Harrington describes her as wasted to a skeleton, refusing costly dishes, taking little but manchet bread and succory pottage; her fondness for dress was gone; she did not change her clothes for days together; while her impatience and irritability increased so as to render attendance on her very painful. He says, She walks much in her privy chamber, and stamps with her feet at ill news; `and thrusts her rusty sword, at times, into the arras in great rage." All this marked the progress of disease, which appears originally to have been rheumatic gout. A year later, he found her still worse. He writes to his wife with much feeling recollection of the queen's past kindness, which had 'rooted such love, such dutiful remembrance of her princely virtues, that to turn askant from her condition with tearless eyes, would stain the spring and fount of gratitude." He adds, "I found her in a most pitiable state. She bade the archbishop ask me if I had seen Tyrone. I replied, with reverence, that I had seen him with the lord deputy. She looked up with much choler and grief in her countenance, and said, 'Oh, now it mindeth me that you was one who saw this man elsewhere,' and hereat she dropped a tear, and smote her bosom. She held in her hand a golden cup, which she often put to her lips, but in sooth, her heart seemeth too full to lack more filling." In such a state, a golden cup can do no more to soothe the troubled mind than an earthen vessel, while the prince has greater and more numerous troubles than the peasant.

In January, 1603, the queen had a cold, which increased by her removal from Westminster to Richmond on a stormy day. She became still more enfeebled, and suffered from fever; her spirits were much affected. She spent most of her time in sighs and tears, her mind generally returning to subjects distressing to her, such as the execution of Essex; but the situation of Ireland excited much of this nervous irritability. At this time the countess of Nottingham, who enjoyed her intimate friendship, died, which affected the queen