seventeen years ago, and scarcely anticipated a better fate for her, whom they now saw conducted through their streets a guarded captive, having arrayed herself in white robes, emblematic of innocence. Her youth, her pallid cheek and searching glance, appealed to them for sympathy, and it might be for succour; but neither arm nor voice was raised in her defence in all that multitude; and this accounts for the haughty and scornful expression which Renaud observed in her countenance as she gazed upon them. Perhaps she thought, with sarcastic bitterness, of the familiar proverb-" A little help is worth a deal of pity."

The cavalcade passed through Smithfield and Fleet Street to Whitehall, between four and five in the afternoon, and entered the palace through the garden. Whatever might be her inward alarm, Elizabeth assumed an intrepid bearing.

"Her cheek was pale, but resolved and high

Were the words of her lip and the glance of her eye."

She boldly protested her innocence, and demanded an interview with her sister the queen, on the plea of Mary's previous promise never to condemn her unheard. Mary declined seeing her, and she was conducted to a quarter of the palace at Westminster, from which neither she nor her servants could go out without passing through the guards. Sx ladies, two gentlemen, and four servants of her own retinue, were permitted to remain in attendance on her person, the rest of her train were sent into the city of London and lodged there. It was on the fidelity and moral courage of these persons, that the life of Elizabeth depended; and it is certain that several of them were implicated in the conspiracy. Courtenay, her affianced husband, had been arrested on the 12th of February, in the house of the earl of Sussex, and was safely lodged in the bell-tower, and subjected to daily examinations. He had previously given tokens of weakness and want of principle sufficient to fill every one with whom he had been politically connected, with apprehension. Yet he seems to have acted honourably with regard to Elizabeth, for none of his admissions tended to implicate her.

Nothing could be more agonizing than the state of suspense, in which, for three weeks, Elizabeth remained at Whitehall, while her fate was debated by her sister's privy council. Fortunately for her, this body was agitated with jealousies and divided interests. One party relentlessly urged the expediency of putting her to death, and argued against the folly of sparing a traitress who had entered into plots with foreign powers against her queen and country.' Lord Arundel and Lord Paget were the advocates of these ruthless counsels, which, however, really emanated from the emperor Charles V., who considered Elizabeth in the light of a powerful rival to the title of the bride elect of his son Philip, and he laboured for her destruction, in the same spirit that his grandfather Ferdinand had made the execution of the unfortunate earl of Warwick one of the secret articles in the marriage treaty of Katharine of Arragon, and Arthur prince of Wales. Besides this political animosity, Charles entertained a personal hatred to Elizabeth, because she was the daughter

1 Renaud's letter to the emperor Charles V.

of Anne Boleyn, whose fatal charms had been the cause of so much evil to his beloved aunt.

Bishop Gardiner, who was at that time opposed to the Spanish party, acted in this instance as the friend of Elizabeth and Courtenay. He contended "that there was no proof of a treasonable correspondence between them during the late insurrections," alleging the residence of Courtenay in the queen's household at St. James's palace, and Elizabeth's dangerous sickness at Asheridge, as reasons why they were not, and could not have been actually engaged in acts of treason, whatever might have been their intentions. In this matter, Gardiner acted in the true spirit of a modern politician: he threw all the weight of his powerful talents and influence into the scale of mercy and justice, not for the sake of the good cause he advocated, but because it afforded him an opportunity of contending with his rivals on vantage-ground.. The murderous policy of Spain is thus shamelessly avowed by Renaud in one of his letters to his imperial master:-"The queen," he says, "is advised to send her (Elizabeth) to the Tower, since she is accused by Wyat, named in the letters of the French ambassador, and suspected by her own council; and it is certain that the enterprise was undertaken in her favour. Assuredly, sire, if they do not punish her and Courtenay, now that the occasion offers, the queen will never be secure, for I doubt that if she leaves her in the Tower, when she goes to meet the parliament, some treasonable means will be found to deliver her or Courtenay, or perhaps both, and then the last error will be worse than the first."

The council was in possession of two notes addressed to Elizabeth by Wyat, the first, advising her to remove to Donnington, which was close to their head-quarters; the second, after her neglecting to obey the queen's summons to court, informing her of his victorious entry into Southwark. Three despatches of Noailles to his own government had been intercepted and deciphered, which revealed all the plans of the conspirators in her favour. Noailles, too-and that made the matter worse-had married one of her maids of honour; 2 which circumstance, of course, afforded a direct facility for more familiar intercourse, than otherwise could publicly have taken place, between the disaffected heiress of the crown, and the representative of a foreign power. In addition to these presumptive evidences, a letter, supposed to have been written by her to the king of France, had fallen into the hands of the queen. The duke of Suffolk, doubtless with a view to the preservation of his own daughter, lady Jane Gray, had declared that the object of the conspiracy was the dethronement of the queen, and the elevation of Elizabeth to her place. Wyat acknowledged that he had written more than one letter to Elizabeth, and charged Courtenay, face to face, with having first suggested the rebellion. Sir James Crofts confessed "that he had conferred with Elizabeth, and solicited her to retire to Donnington;" Lord Russell," that he had privately conveyed letters to her from Wyat ;" and another prisoner, "that he had been privy to 'Kempe's Losely MSS.

1 Mackintosh; Lingard; Tytler.

8 Lingard's Elizabeth, Hist. Eng., vol. vii.

a correspondence between Carew and Courtenay respecting the intended marriage between that nobleman and the princess." In short, a more disgusting series of treachery and cowardice never was exhibited than on this occasion; and if it be true, that there is honour among thieves-that is to say, an observance of good faith towards each other in time of peril-it is certain nothing of the kind was to be found among these confederates, who respectively endeavoured, by the denunciation of their associates, to shift the penalty of their mutual offences to their fellows in misfortune.

Wyat's first confession was, "that the Sieur D'Oysell, when he passed through England into Scotland with the French ambassador to that country, spoke to sir James Crofts to persuade him to prevent the marriage of queen Mary, with the heir of Spain, to raise Elizabeth to the throne, marry her to Courtenay, and put the queen to death." He also confessed the promised aid that was guaranteed by the king of France to the confederates, and the projected invasions from France and Scotland.

"We have this morning," writes Mr. Secretary Bourne, "travailed with sir Thomas Wyat, touching the lady Elizabeth and her servant, sir William Saintlow; and your lordship shall understand that Wyat affirmeth his former sayings (depositions), and says further, that sir James Crofts knoweth more, if he be sent for and examined. Whereupon, Crofts has been called before us and examined, and confesseth with Wyat, charging Saintlow with like matter, and further, as we shall declare unto your said lordships. Wherefore, under your correction, we think necessary, and beseech you to send for Mr. Saintlow, and to examine him, or cause him to be sent hither, by us to be examined. Crofts is plain, and will tell all."2

The Spanish ambassador, in his report to the emperor, dated March 1st, affirms that Crofts had confessed the truth in a written deposition, and admitted, in plain terms, the intrigues of the French ambassador with the heretics and rebels; but this deposition has been vainly sought for at the State Paper Office.

Great pains were taken by the Spanish faction to incense the queen, to the death, against Elizabeth; Renaud even presumed to intimate that her betrothed husband, Don Philip, would not venture his person in England till Elizabeth and Courtenay were executed, and endeavoured, by every sort of argument, to tempt her to hasten her own marriage by the sacrifice of their lives. Irritated as Mary was against both, she could not resolve on shedding her sister's blood. She told the subtle statesman, "that she should act as the law decided, on the evidences of their guilt, but that the prisoners, whose guilt had actually been proved, should be executed before she left her metropolis" to open her parliament, which was summoned to meet at Oxford. She was in great perplexity in what manner to dispose of Elizabeth for her own security, before she herself departed from London, and she asked the lords of 1 Renaud's Letters to Charles V.

2 Report of Bourne, Southwell, Pope, and Hyggins, in State Paper Office, February 25, 1553-4.

her council, one by one, "if either of them would take charge of that lady." They all declined the perilous responsibility, and then the stern resolution was adopted of sending her to the Tower,' after a stormy debate in council on the justifiableness of such a measure. The truth was, Gardiner, finding himself likely to be left in a minority by his powerful rivals in the cabinet, succumbed to their wishes, and, instead of opposing the motion, supported it, and kept his chancellorship, for a temporary reconciliation was then effected between him and the leaders of the Spanish faction, Arundel, Paget, and Petre, of which the blood of Elizabeth was the intended cement. From the moment this trimming statesman abandoned the liberal policy he had for a few brief months advocated, he shamed not to become the most relentless and determined of those who sought to bring the royal maiden to the block. On the Friday before Palm Sunday, he, with nine more of the council, came into her presence, and there charged her, both with Wyat's conspiracy, and the rising lately made in the west by sir Peter Carew and others, and told her it was the queen's pleasure that she should be removed to the Tower." The name of this doleful prison, which her own mother, and, more recently, her cousin, lady Jane Gray, had found their next step to the scaffold, filled her with dismay.

"I trust," said she," that her majesty will be far more gracious, than to commit to that place a true and most innocent woman, that never has offended her in thought, word, or deed." She then entreated the lords to intercede for her with the queen, which some of them compassionately promised to do, and testified much pity for her case. About an hour after, four of them—namely, Gardiner, the lord steward, the lord treasurer, and the earl of Sussex-returned with an order to discharge all her attendants, except her gentleman usher, three gentlewomen, and two grooms of her chamber.3 Hitherto Elizabeth had been in the honourable keeping of the lord chamberlain, no other than her uncle, lord William Howard, and sir John Gage, but now that a sterner policy was adopted, a guard was placed in the two ante-rooms leading to her chamber, two lords with an armed force in the hall, and two hundred Northern white coats in the garden, to prevent all possibility of rescue or escape. The next day, the earl of Sussex and another lord of the council, announced to her "that a barge was in readiness to convey her to the Tower, and she must prepare to go as the tide served, which would tarry for no one." This intimation seems to have inspired Elizabeth with a determination to outstay it, since the delay of every hour was important to her whose fate hung on a balance so nicely poised. She implored to see the queen her sister, and that request being denied, she then entreated for permission to write to her. This was peremptorily refused by one of the noblemen, who told her "that he durst not suffer it, neither, in his opinion, was it convenient." But the

'Renaud's Despatches.

'Speed; Fox.

2 Tytler; Renaud; Speed; Fox. 4 Ibid.

The name of this ungentle peer is not recorded, from motives of delicacy, by Fox and Holinshed, but he is supposed to be Paulet, marquis of Winchester, who was alive when these books were written.

earl of Sussex, whose generous nature was touched with manly compassion, bent his knee before her, and told her " she should have liberty to write her mind," and swore, "as he was a true man, he would himself deliver it to the queen, whatsoever came of it, and bring her back the answer."

Elizabeth then addressed, with the earnest eloquence of despair, the following moving letter to her royal sister, taking good care not to bring it to a conclusion till the tide had ebbed so far as to render it impossible to shoot the bridge with a barge that turn.

"THE LADY ELIZABETH TO THE QUEEN.'

"If any ever did try this old saying, 'that a king's word was more than another man's oath,' I must humbly beseech your majesty to verify it in me, and to remember your last promise' and my last demand-that I be not condemned without answer and due proof-which it seems that I now am: for without cause proved, I am by your council from you commanded, to go to the Tower, a place more wanted for a false traitor, than a true subject. Which though I know I deserve it not, yet in the face of all this realm it appears proved. I pray to God I may die the shamefullest death that any ever died, if I may mean any such thing; and to this present hour I protest before God (who shall judge my truth whatsoever malice shall devise) that I never practised, counselled, nor consented to anything that might be prejudicial to your person any way, or dangerous to the state by any means. And therefore I humbly beseech your majesty to let me answer afore yourself, and not suffer me to trust to your councillorsyea, and that afore I go to the Tower-if it be possible if not, before I be further condemned. Howbeit, I trust assuredly your highness will give me leave to do it afore I go, that thus shamefully I may not be cried out on, as I now shall be-yea, and that without cause!

"Let conscience move your highness to pardon this my boldness, which innocency procures me to do, together with hope of your natural kindness, which I trust will not see me cast away without desert, which what it (her desert) is I would desire no more of God, but that you truly knew-but which thing I think and believe, you shall never by report know, unless by yourself you hear. I have heard of many in my time cast away, for want of coming to the presence of their 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 persuasions were made to him so great that he was brought in belief, that he could not live safely if the admiral (lord Thomas Seymour) lived, and that made him give consent to his death. Though these persons are not to be compared to your majesty, yet I pray God the like evil persuasions persuade not one sister against the other, and all, for that they have heard false report, and the truth not known.

"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 would not be so bold as to desire, if I knew not myself most clear, as I know myself most true.

"And as for the traitor Wyat, he might, peradventure, write me a letter, but on my faith I never received any from him. And as for the copy of the letter

1 MS. Harleian., 7190-2. The document, in its original orthography, may be seen in Sir H. Ellis's Original Letters, 2d series, vol. ii., p. 255. The commencing sentence of this letter is a quotation from the noble speech of king John of France, when he returned to his captivity in England.

This promise must have been given at the last interview of the royal sisters, before Elizabeth retired to Asheridge, when she had to clear herself from conspiring with Noailles, the French ambassador, as before related.