But whether her majesty gave the unfortunate hero of this tragedy a ring or not, it is most certain that she gave him a blow; and of all the proofs of love which she bestowed upon him, this surely cannot be numbered amongst the least.
It is extraordinary, that the present play, having introduced this singular occurrence, should omit the particular sentence which Essex uttered on the memorable occasion.—History says, that he laid his hand on his sword, and told Elizabeth, "he would not have taken such treatment from her father, Henry the Eighth."—But, as a man of true gallantry, the Earl should not have felt himself offended at a woman's anger; which experience must have told him, was the certain mark of concealed tenderness. His reply had been most excellent had it been delivered with smiles instead of frowns; but to have recourse to his sword, was acting like a novice in the art of love; and resenting an affront, when he should have acknowledged a favour.
As that love which is expressed by indirect means, has often the greatest hold upon the attention and sympathy of the spectator; so, many an auditor and reader will feel more interest in the restrained affection of Elizabeth for her paramour, than in the unbridled fondness of Rutland for her husband.—The scene, where the queen bestows the ring, as a pledge of her kindest regard for his safety, is peculiarly affecting, because the strength of her passion is there discoverable, under a demeanour properly dignified; and all violent propensity, either to esteem or resentment, is strictly governed by the consideration of her own exalted rank.
In depicting the affliction, which the queen endured upon the execution of Essex, and more especially at the news that he had implored her mercy in vain, the dramatist has fallen infinitely below the historian. Hume relates, that when Nottingham, having in her last illness requested to see the queen, revealed her fatal secret, and entreated her majesty's forgiveness, the queen shook the dying countess in her bed, and exclaimed—"God may forgive you, but I never will." The most dismal melancholy, as it is alleged, succeeded this rage.—But, from whatever cause, it is certain that an almost unheard-of despondency concluded the reign of this great princess, whose mind was masculine; and who, throughout her long career of government, never evinced one feminine weakness, which was not the effect of love, or of that vanity, which hoped to inspire the passion.
At this era, in the short space of two years, the hand of death snatched from the court of Great Britain, all these its most remarkable personages—Essex, Nottingham, and the queen. It is probable, that the decease of the first, hastened that of the second, as well as of the last, character; for the countess's remorse for political stratagem is reported to have been dreadfully severe.
The earl died in his thirty-fourth, and the queen in her seventieth year.—In a subject, her majesty's unseasonable love might have formed a comic, instead of a tragic, drama.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
| Earl of Essex | Mr Holman |
| Southampton | Mr Betterton. |
| Burleigh | Mr Murray. |
| Raleigh | Mr Claremont. |
| Lieutenant | Mr Thompson. |
| Queen Elizabeth | Mrs Pope. |
| Lady Rutland | Mrs Esten. |
| Lady Nottingham | Mrs Litchfield. |
| SCENE,—London. | |