A.D. 1562.
Queen Elizabeth either forgot her promise to the pope, that she would not interfere with the religion of her subjects, or she was unmindful of it, for many were persecuted on account of their adherence to Catholicism. All emblems and pictures of the Catholic church were abolished; and as the English artists were not permitted to copy the sacred subjects selected by the Spanish, Italian, and Flemish masters, pictorial art came to a standstill in England.
It was not on account of religion that the Countess of Lenox, one of the queen's nearest relations, was arrested and thrown into prison. She was charged with treason and witchcraft: but the real offence was a secret correspondence with her niece, the Queen of Scots, whom Elizabeth hated. She made no secret of this hatred, and was heard to ask "how it was possible for her to love any one whose interest it was to see her dead." Nevertheless, she would never acknowledge Mary's right to the throne. The fact is, that each of these queens would lavish affectionate terms on the other if the interest or caprice of the moment demanded it; but each was jealous and suspicious of the other, and each hated the other in the inmost recesses of her heart. Elizabeth was often urged to appoint a successor in the event of her death, and if the name of Mary was mentioned on such an occasion it threw her into a transport of rage.
At last a meeting was planned between the two queens, with the hope of establishing a better state of feeling; but the defeat of her army in France under Warwick gave Elizabeth an excuse for postponing the interview. This defeat was a sore trial to the queen, and besides the plague had killed off a great number of the soldiers. They brought the disease home with them, and during the following year twenty thousand people died of it in London alone.
A.D. 1563. Meanwhile Lady Lenox had been released from prison, and was secretly trying to make up a match between Mary Stuart and Lord Henry Darnley. It was Mary's desire to conciliate Queen Elizabeth just then, so she sent Sir James Melville to consult her about an offer of marriage to herself.
While this ambassador was at court Queen Elizabeth appeared in a different costume each day, and was pleased when he said that he preferred the Italian style for her because it displayed her yellow curls to advantage.
She asked him which was the more beautiful, she or Mary Stuart.
"You are the handsomest queen in England," he replied, "and ours the handsomest queen in Scotland."
"Which of us is the taller?" asked Elizabeth.
"Our queen," said Melville.
"Then she is over-tall," returned Elizabeth; "for I am neither too tall nor too short."
She next asked how Queen Mary passed her time.
"When I left Scotland, she had just come from a Highland hunt," answered the ambassador; "but when she has leisure, she reads, and sometimes plays on the lute and the virginals."
"Does she play well?" asked Elizabeth.
"Reasonably well for a queen," was the reply. Elizabeth had a love for flattery that could never be satisfied; the most fulsome compliments were always acceptable, and those who desired favors at her hands knew the importance of tickling her vanity. It made her unhappy to suspect that any one could think Mary Stuart, of all women, in any particular superior to herself. So on the evening after the interview with Lord Melville she managed to perform on the virginals, when she knew that he was within hearing. It had the desired effect; for the ambassador raised the drawing-room curtains to see who the player was, and delighted the heart of Elizabeth by assuring her that she was a much better musician than his queen.
Fond as Elizabeth was of popularity she never permitted any one to interfere with her. Once when Leicester attempted to express an opinion contrary to her's regarding some state matter, she flew into a passion, and said: "I will have here but one mistress and no master."
This so humiliated the favorite, who had been treated like a spoiled child for several years, that he absented himself from court as much as possible, and finally requested that he might be sent on a diplomatic mission to France. But Elizabeth would not comply. She told him that it would be no great honor to the King of France, were she to send him her groom; then turning to the French ambassador, who was present, she laughingly added, "I cannot live without seeing him every day; he is like my lap-dog: so soon as he is seen any where they say I am near at hand, and wherever I am seen he is expected."
Elizabeth was generally kind and grateful to those who had treated her well in her youth; but her cruelty towards Doctor Heath, Archbishop of York, is an exception. The doctor had been of real service to her; but so determined was she to brook no opposition, that when he refused to acknowledge her supremacy over the church, she had him shut up in the Tower, and even put to torture, although he was eighty years of age at the time.
Temper often got the better of this illustrious queen; and when such was the case she made coarse, rude speeches to her attendants as well as members of parliament, which she regretted in calmer moments.
A.D. 1564. When parliament urged her to marry she answered, "That if they would attend to their own business she would perform her's." Such discourteous speeches won for her a reprimand, which put her in such a rage that she refused to give satisfaction upon any question that was laid before her. Later she made a conciliatory speech and said: "That her successor might perhaps be more wise and learned than she, but one more careful of the country's weal they could not have." She bade them "beware how they again tried their sovereign's patience as they had done."
Dr. Dee, the conjuror, spent much time at court, and received many favors from the queen, who even condescended to visit him at his own house. He had a mirror in which he pretended to read the queen's destiny, and showed her his laboratory where he was concocting an elixir of life for her special use. Elizabeth believed in him, granted him her protection, and finally appointed him Chancellor of St. Paul's Cathedral. He spent many years at his foolish trickery, but it is certain that he produced no compound either for rejuvenating the queen or for prolonging her life.
A.D. 1567. In 1567 Lord Darnley, who had become Queen Mary's husband, was mysteriously murdered. Lord Bothwell, who was known to be in love with Mary, was accused of the crime, in which there was strong grounds for suspicion that Mary herself assisted. Elizabeth took
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pains to express no opinion about this matter; but she, no doubt, believed, as all Europe did, in Mary's guilt. She took it upon herself to announce to the Countess of Lenox the fearful catastrophe that had befallen her son, and did so in a considerate and sympathetic manner, which formed a contrast to her former cruelty.
Bothwell was tried, but his guilt could not be proved, and three months after Lord Darnley's death he and Mary Stuart were married. This shameful conduct horrified the Scottish people, and they rose in arms against their queen.
Within a month after the marriage Bothwell was obliged to fly for his life, and Mary was imprisoned in Lochleven Castle.
Elizabeth may not have regretted the downfall of Mary Stuart; but when she heard of her being a captive, subject to insults and abuse from her own people, her heart was touched, and she interposed with the Scottish nobles in behalf of the unfortunate queen. Her appeal had some weight, but Mary was compelled to sign a deed of abdication in favor of her son.
A.D. 1568. A year after Lord Darnley's death Mary made her escape to England, and sought Elizabeth's protection. She crossed the Frith of Solway in a fishing-boat, and was conducted to Carlisle, where, though treated with respect, she soon discovered that she was once more a prisoner.
Elizabeth's treacherous behavior towards the erring, dethroned queen who had placed herself in her power was a crime that has left a foul stain on her memory. But she had to pay the penalty; for as most of the Roman Catholics in the British Isles regarded Mary as the rightful Queen of England, the realm was filled with plots, revolts, and secret confederacies that kept her mind constantly on the rack. Mary begged for permission to seek protection in some other country; but Elizabeth secretly enjoyed the humiliation of her enemy, and was too cautious to restore the liberty of one whom she had ill treated.
Consequently the royal prisoner was removed to Bolton Castle, a gloomy fortress, where she was subjected to most cruel indignities. She was closely watched; and Elizabeth's ministers, particularly Burleigh and Leicester, reported every action that could be distorted into the appearance of treason. Any partisan of Mary's that could be attacked was speedily brought to trial, and scaffolds streamed with the innocent blood of many a victim. Elizabeth's popularity was on the wane, and her numerous acts of injustice, that laid low the heads of some of the noblest men and women of her realm, rendered her an object of hatred for the time being.
A.D. 1570. She was thirty-seven years old when Catherine de Medicis proposed her marriage with Henry of Anjou, the French prince, who was twenty years younger than the English queen.
Catherine was one of the worst women that ever lived, and knew that such a union would be perfectly ridiculous; but she was so anxious to secure the crown of the Tudors and Plantagenets for her son that she pretended sincere affection for Elizabeth, and was capable of any deception, intrigue, or even crime to gain her point. Elizabeth, on the other hand, had such an exalted opinion of her own perfections that she would acknowledge no obstacle to the union but religion. In reality, she was too sensible not to be conscious of the absurdity of uniting herself to a youth of seventeen, but kept the matter pending for many months for the purpose of gaining the good-will of France, and of thus preventing that country from taking steps against her in the affairs of Scotland and towards the release of Mary. Young Henry remained passive for a long time, counting on Elizabeth's caprice and insincerity for his own escape; but when the French ambassador informed him that she was disposed to consent to the alliance, he declared that he would not go to England unless he could be allowed the public profession of the Catholic religion. Of course, that could not be thought of; so, to spare herself the indignity of being jilted, Elizabeth announced her determination never to marry at all.
Meanwhile the Duke of Norfolk united with others in forming a plot for the liberation of Queen Mary and the assassination of Elizabeth. It was discovered, and led to the imprisonment and torture of a large number of people. The queen declared that she would never release Mary, and ordered the execution of the duke. But parliament assured her "that she must lay the axe to the root of the evil, for she would have neither rest nor security while the Queen of Scots was in existence."
"What!" she exclaimed, "Can I put to death the bird, that to escape the pursuit of the hawk, has fled to my feet for protection? Honor and conscience forbid!"
A.D. 1572. Queen Elizabeth was making a visit at Kenilworth Castle in the summer of 1572, and enjoying the festivities prepared by Leicester, when news arrived of that most horrible, most atrocious massacre of St. Bartholomew in France. The tales of horror, related by those Huguenots who were fortunate enough to escape from the hands of their pitiless persecutors and seek shelter in England, aroused the indignation of the Britons to such a degree that they thirsted to take up arms against the blood-stained Charles IX.,—that midnight assassin of his own subjects.
But the very people who most warmly condemned the treachery and cruelty of the French now clamored for the blood of Mary Stuart, in revenge for the slaughtered Protestants. Burleigh and Leicester terrified the queen with rumors of plots which had their origin with the royal captive, until she became convinced that her life was in peril.
After leaving Kenilworth Castle, Elizabeth made her usual summer progress, and was sumptuously entertained in each county where she halted. She received presents ranging from the richest jewels to such useful articles as gloves, handkerchiefs, stockings, and even night-dresses, and night-caps. Sir Philip Sidney, the accomplished soldier and statesman, wrote a poem in honor of the queen, that he recited at one of the entertainments, and then presented her with a cambric frock, the sleeves and collar of which were worked in black silk, and edged with gold and silver lace, and an open worked ruff set with spangles.
One day when the queen was in her barge near Greenwich a gun was discharged from a neighboring boat, the bullet passing through both arms of a rower who stood near her. Every one was shocked, but Elizabeth did not lose her presence of mind for an instant. Throwing her scarf to the man she bade him "to be of good cheer, for he should never want, for the bullet was meant for her though it had hit him." When the owner of the gun was examined he persisted that it had gone off by accident. The queen pardoned him, and said openly: "That she would never believe anything against her subjects that loving parents would not believe of their children."
It was generally thought that Elizabeth was a woman of courage, but once; although she suffered agony from toothache for several days and nights, she would not submit to having the tooth extracted until the old Bishop of London consented to a similar operation in her presence.
A.D. 1580. In 1580 officials were stationed, by the queen's orders, at the corners of the streets with shears in their hands to cut off any ruff that exceeded her's in size; they were, besides, to shorten the swords of all the gentlemen who wore longer ones than she had stipulated. The French ambassador protested, and insisted upon wearing his sword as long as he pleased. No doubt he thought his taste quite as good as the queen's,—particularly when he beheld her riding behind six light-gray Hungarian horses, with their manes and tails dyed deep-orange color.
The same year Francis Drake returned from his voyage of discovery around the world. Elizabeth honored him with a visit on board his vessel, and knighted him for the courage, skill, and perseverance he had displayed.
Much anxiety and alarm were felt in England about this time on account of political plots and rumors of conspiracies against the queen's life; and the Catholic subjects, most of whom were ready to raise the standard of revolt in the name of Mary Stuart, were treated with such severity that those who could escape sought homes in foreign lands. Many noblemen were executed or put to the torture. Ambassadors from France were entertained with all the splendor that the English court could produce, for the queen delighted in thus impressing foreign visitors; but whenever they ventured to intercede for the Queen of Scots, they were met with an uncontrollable outburst of rage.
Since Elizabeth had decided to remain single she would not give her consent to the marriage of any lady or gentleman connected with her court. But Leicester had married again in spite of her, and had thus placed himself under a cloud. He excited the royal displeasure still further when he was acting as military commander in the Low countries, on account of the regal airs he assumed. He even went so far as to express his intention to hold a court that should rival in display that of England. On hearing of it, Elizabeth not only forbade Leicester's wife to join him, but cut off his supplies of money, saying: "I will let the upstart know how easily the hand that has exalted him can beat him down to the dust."
Sir Walter Raleigh had succeeded Leicester in Elizabeth's esteem, and of course excited the bitter jealousy of the deposed favorite. Raleigh was the younger son of a country gentleman of small fortune. He was a soldier, seaman, statesman, poet, philosopher, and wit. His grace and beauty rendered him particularly attractive to Elizabeth, who never could bear a homely person among her attendants. One day her majesty went out for a walk after a heavy rain; arriving at a muddy gutter she stopped to consider how to get across, when Sir-Walter, with courteous presence of mind, pulled off a handsome plush cloak that he wore for the first time, and spread it on the ground for the queen to walk over. She accepted the attention with pleasure, and rewarded the gentleman with several new cloaks in place of the one he had ruined for her sake.
It is to Sir Walter Raleigh that England is indebted for her first possession in America, which, in compliment to his queen's unmarried state, he named Virginia; and it was he who introduced tobacco into England from the newly discovered coast.
On one occasion he was enjoying the weed himself, when his servant entered with a tankard of ale. Seeing his master enveloped in smoke, that proceeded from his lips, the simple fellow supposed that some internal fire was destroying his vitals, so he dashed the contents of the tankard full into Sir Walter's face, and then ran down stairs to alarm the family before the smoker should be reduced to ashes.
It was Raleigh who first presented the poet Spenser to the queen, and she was so charmed with his poetic genius that she gave him a thousand pounds. In return, he made
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her the heroine of several poems, and personified her in three different characters in his celebrated work, entitled the "Faerie Queen."
A.D. 1586. Another plot to assassinate the queen was laid at Mary Stuart's door, and the councillors repeated their demands for her execution. But Elizabeth shrank from appearing directly to bring an anointed sovereign to the block, though she did not hesitate to subject her to every species of quiet cruelty. Mary was kept in damp, unhealthy apartments, deprived of exercise, and on several occasions compelled to rise from a sick-bed to travel, in the depth of winter, from one prison to another. Her health became seriously impaired, but that had no effect on Elizabeth; and an insulting letter addressed to her by the royal prisoner did not tend to soften her heart.
At last Mary was induced by spies, who pretended to-be her friends, to write to the French and Spanish ambassadors requesting aid from their governments. These letters were intercepted and shown to the queen. Many of Mary's partisans were arrested; and Walsingham, one of the ministers, published a full account of the preparations France and Spain were making to invade England—where, upon landing, their troops would be joined by all the papists of the realm.
This excited the indignation of the populace to the utmost degree, and both foreign and native Catholics were in danger in consequence; even the ambassadors were insulted in their houses. Every heart now warmed towards the queen; and when the conspirators were discovered and locked up in the Tower, the event was celebrated by the lighting of bonfires and ringing of bells.
At last it was decided that Mary Stuart should have a trial, if so perfect a farce merits that name. Elizabeth had said publicly that she considered the Scottish queen un- worthy of counsel, and that was in itself enough to condemn her without a trial.
When the commissioners arrived at Fotheringay, and ordered Mary to appear before them, she refused to acknowledge their authority; but they were armed with a letter from Elizabeth, which she was compelled to obey.
Mary's deportment in this trying emergency was spirited and adroit. She told the commissioners "that she had endeavored to gain her liberty, and would continue to do so as long as she lived; but that she had never plotted against the life of the queen."
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After pleading for herself for two days, Mary demanded to be heard before the parliament of England, or the queen herself and her council. The court was then adjourned, the whole proceeding reported to Elizabeth, and twelve days later sentence of death was pronounced on the Scottish queen. At the next meeting of parliament it was urged that the sentence should be carried into effect.
At this period Elizabeth behaved with her characteristic selfishness. She was anxious for Mary's death, and felt no pity for the object of her fury; but she feared to appear before the world as the author of the revenge upon which she was bent, and sought to make parliament share the odium of her deed.
The Kings of France and Scotland interceded for Mary and increased Elizabeth's irresolution; but Leicester and Walsingham, well knowing what their fate would be should Elizabeth chance to die, and thus make way for Mary to the throne of England, kept urging their sovereign to sign the death-warrant. At last she yielded; but no sooner had she done so than she fell into a state of melancholy, and secretly urged one of the castellans of Fotheringay to murder his hapless charge. She was willing to resort to any means of getting Mary out of the way, providing she could preserve her own reputation by putting the blame on others. But she was not to be gratified, and on the 8th of February the execution took place in due form. Not one of the council had the courage to inform the queen that the bloody deed was accomplished. In the evening she asked "what meant the bonfires and the merry ringing of the bells?" The answer stunned her for a moment; then she burst into a passionate fit of weeping, sharply rebuked her council and bade them quit her sight at once, saying that she had never commanded nor intended the execution of Mary Stuart.
This may have been hypocrisy; but more likely it was remorse for a needless, outrageous, barbarous act.
Elizabeth wrote to James VI. of Scotland, professing her innocence of the "miserable accident," as she was pleased to term the murder of his mother, and assuring him of her affection for himself. To the French ambassador she said that the death of her kinswoman was the greatest misfortune of her life, and that although she had signed the death-warrant to gratify her subjects, she had never meant to carry it into effect. She added that her council had played her a trick which would have cost them their heads, did she not believe that they had acted for the welfare of herself and the state. After Mary Stuart's death there seemed to be an end to conspiracies for a while, and no very important event occupied the queen's mind until she began to make preparations to defend herself against the invasion of the grand Spanish army, called the Invincible Armada. She showed herself on this occasion worthy to be the queen and heroine of a nation that were eager to prove their devotion and loyalty.
A.D. 1588. The despised, disgraced Earl of Leicester, who had by this time regained his place in the royal favor, was appointed commander-in-chief of the army at Tilbury. Lord Hunsdon commanded the queen's body-guard for the defence of London, and Sir Francis Drake was appointed vice-admiral.
Elizabeth took up her abode at Havering Bower, a place selected for her by Leicester, situated between the rear and van of her army. There she appeared as warrior and queen. Mounted on a noble charger, with a general's truncheon in her hand, a polished steel corselet over her magnificent apparel, and a page in attendance bearing her white plumed helmet, she rode bareheaded from rank to rank, addressing her soldiers with words of encouragement and hope. She was greeted with loud shouts of applause by her admiring subjects, who felt it an honor to fight for such a noble, courageous sovereign.
The Spaniards had flattered themselves that with an army equipped as their's was it would require only one fight by sea and one on land to achieve the conquest of England; but they soon found their mistake, and not a single Spaniard set foot on English soil except as a prisoner.
The Spanish Armada was soon scattered, and victory was declared for England.
Immense crowds gathered to welcome the queen on her return to Westminster. She was then fifty-five years of age, at the height of her glory, and beloved by her subjects, whom she had ruled for thirty years, and who had united, one and all, Catholic and Protestant, to support her in vindicating the honor of England.
Her first act was to reward her brave commanders and provide for the wounded seamen. Upon Leicester she would have bestowed the highest office ever held by an English subject,—that of lord-lieutenant of England and Ireland; but, much to the satisfaction of the other statesmen, he died before the patent could be made out. A series of thanksgivings were observed in London to commemorate the victory, and the queen was presented with a number of rich and valuable gifts.
Queen Elizabeth was never an idle woman. Long before day, in winter, she transacted business with her Secretaries of state, heard public documents, and gave her orders concerning them. After breakfast she would promenade in her garden or the corridors of the palace, as the weather prompted, attended by some learned gentlemen of the court, with whom she discussed intellectual topics, and a portion of each day was devoted to study.
She observed strictly all the fast-days prescribed by the church. She was a moderate eater, and seldom drank anything but beer; when she dined in public the table was magnificently spread, with a profusion of costly plate, for she was fond of displaying her riches, particularly before foreign ambassadors. Her cup-bearer always served her on his knees, and music and singing accompanied the banquet.
At supper, when the cares of the day were over, the queen would chat freely and pleasantly with her court, and the evenings were passed with chess-playing, music, or recitations and stories by the famous comedian, Tarleton, and others. She was fond of apes and dogs, but, beyond all, of children, with whom she loved to talk and amuse herself.
As a rule, Elizabeth treated her attendants well; but when her temper got the upper hand, which was not seldom, she descended to the level of a common virago, and more than once struck some maid of honor for a trifling offence. But these outbursts of rage were reserved for the people of the palace; her other subjects witnessed only sweetness and good humor.
Her impulses were good, as she proved in the case of Margaret Lambrun, a Scottish woman, whose husband was supposed to have died of grief because of the tragic fate of the Queen of Scots, in whose service he was. Margaret took the desperate resolution to avenge his death; so, disguised in male attire, she proceeded, with a concealed brace of pistols, to the English court, with the intention of killing the queen with one and herself with the other. One day, when her majesty was walking in the garden of the palace, Margaret made her way through the crowd so as to get near enough to make sure of her aim, but in her excitement she dropped one of the pistols. She was instantly seized, and would have been hurried away to prison but Elizabeth said "she would examine the young man herself."
A.D. 1589. When brought before her Margaret bravely acknowledged who she was, her intended action, and its cause. The queen heard her patiently; then not
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only granted her a full pardon, but provided her with an escort to France, as she had requested.
Many persecutions on the score of religion succeeded the victory over the Spanish Armada, and one of the greatest grievances of Elizabeth's reign was known as the privy seal loans. Whenever an individual was known to have amassed a sum of money her majesty's ministers would borrow for the royal treasury. To be sure, they paid a liberal interest; but there was no security for the principal, besides the sovereign's promise to pay, which, it is easy to see, would have been valueless in the event of death.
After the death of Leicester, Essex, who had been created Knight of the Garter, succeeded to the queen's favor; but while she was showing him the utmost consideration he excited her wrath by marrying the widow of Sir Philip Sidney, the illustrious soldier and statesman, who had been killed at the battle of Zutphen. He was at once replaced by Sir Robert Cecil, and when Henry III. sent to England for aid to defend himself against the Spanish invaders, he injured his cause by saying that Essex approved of his demand; for Elizabeth replied, "That the Earl of Essex would have it thought that he ruled the realm, but that nothing was more untrue; that she would make him the most pitiful fellow in the realm, and instead of sending the King of France more troops, she would recall all those she had already lent him." Having said this she haughtily swept out of the room, and would have nothing further to say to the ambassador.
A.D. 1592. Later, when Essex showed prompt obedience at the queen's command for his return to England, she was so pleased that she entertained him with feasts, and sent him back to France honored with the highest distinction. Every request he made was granted almost before it was considered. Nevertheless, Elizabeth's capricious nature asserted itself when Ireland was in a state of revolt, and there was difficulty in finding some one to fill the post of lord-deputy over the distracted country. On that occasion Essex peremptorily insisted that Sir George Carew was the proper man for the office, whereupon, forgetting how by numerous indulgences she had encouraged him to speak freely, Elizabeth felt so offended at his positive tone that she lost her self-control, and giving him a sound box on the ear, bade him "go and be hanged."
Essex was so indignant that he swore a horrible oath, and impertinently adding something about "a king in petticoats."
Later the royal mind was changed again, and he was sent as lord-deputy to Ireland.
While there, he was so unmindful of the queen's orders that he was accused of treason, and on his return shut up in the Tower. He had many enemies, and Cecil so prejudiced the queen and her court against him that he was condemned to die.
A.D. 1601. Elizabeth hesitated as long as possible before signing his death-warrant. She had given Essex a ring when he was in favor, with the promise that if ever he offended her the sight of that token would insure forgiveness. The imprisoned statesman did send the ring by a boy who chanced to pass his prison window one morning; but by an unlucky accident it fell into the hands of the lord-admiral, a deadly foe of Essex, who said nothing about it. The queen concluding that her former favorite was too proud to sue for forgiveness, because the ring she had been expecting did not reach her, ordered the execution to proceed.
The English nation could not forgive the death of the generous and gallant nobleman, and the queen was no
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longer received with cheers when she appeared in public. She did not fail to notice the change in her subject's feelings towards her, and this made her excessively unhappy. A deep depression took possession of her, and though she tried to appear gay her heart was very heavy. Several attempts were made on her life from time to time as she advanced in years, but fortunately each was frustrated.
Literature made rapid strides during Queen Elizabeth's reign, particularly all that was written in Italian, which language her majesty understood well. Many dramatists rose to distinction at this period, the greatest being William Shakspeare. Spenser and Sir Philip Sidney added lustre to this reign also.
Elizabeth's last parliament was summoned in the autumn of 1601. She performed the ceremony with more than her customary display; but she was in such feeble health as to be unable to support the weight of the royal robes, and she was actually sinking to the ground when a nobleman, who stood near, caught her and supported her in his arms. She rallied and went through the fatiguing ceremony with her usual dignity and grace.
The science of medicine was in such a rude condition in the sixteenth century that the wealthy were treated with doses of pulverized jewels or gold. The poor had the best of it; for they were obliged to depend on herbs and ointments which certainly must have been more efficacious.
Queen Elizabeth had so little confidence in doctors or their prescriptions that she could not be induced to consult them even when she was very ill.
A.D. 1603. Her last sickness began in March, 1603, and when she was urged to seek medical aid, she angrily replied: "That she knew her own constitution better than anybody else, and that she was not in such danger as they imagined." She grew worse, however, and died two weeks later, in the seventieth year of her age, and the forty-fourth of her reign.
She was buried in Westminster Abbey in the same grave with her sister. Mary Tudor. Her successor, James I., erected a monument to her memory. On a slab of pure white marble the effigy of this remarkable queen lies beneath a stately canopy. Her head rests on embroidered cushions, her feet on a couchant lion. Royal robes hang around her form in classic folds, and her closely curled hair is covered with a simple cap. She has no crown, the sceptre has been broken from one hand, also the cross from the imperial orb which she holds in the other.
That learned English philosopher, Lord Bacon, has written of Queen Elizabeth: "She was pious, moderate, constant, and an enemy to novelty. She hated vice, and studied to preserve an honorable name. No age has ever produced her like for the government of a kingdom."
