During this performance, there arose out of the earth a pavilion of white taffeta, supported on pillars resembling porphyry and formed to imitate the temple of the Vestal virgins. A superb altar was placed within it, on which were laid some rich gifts for her majesty. Before the gate stood a crowned pillar embraced by an eglantine, to which a votive tablet was attached, inscribed "To Elizabeth:" The gifts and the tablet being with great reverence delivered to the queen, and the aged knight in the meantime disarmed, he offered up his armour at the foot of the pillar; then kneeling, presented the earl of Cumberland to her majesty, praying her to be pleased to accept of him for her knight and to continue these annual exercises. The proposal being graciously accepted, sir Henry armed the earl and mounted him on his horse: this done, he clothed himself in a long velvet gown and covered his head, in lieu of a helmet, with "a buttoned cap of the country fashion."

The king of Scots had now for a considerable time deserved extremely well of Elizabeth. During the whole period of the Spanish armament he had remained unshaken in his attachment to her cause, resolutely turning a deaf ear to the flattering offers of Philip II. with the shrewd remark, that all the favor he had to expect from this monarch in case of his success against England, was that of Polypheme to Ulysses;—to be devoured the last. A bon mot which was carefully copied into The English Mercury. The ambassador to Scotland, from an unfounded opinion that the discomfited armada sought shelter in the ports of that country under the faith of some secret engagement with James, had thought it necessary to bribe him to fidelity by some brilliant promises, of which when the danger was past Elizabeth unhandsomely evaded the fulfilment; but even on this occasion he abstained from any vehement expressions of indignation: in short, his whole demeanour towards his lofty kinswoman was that of a submissive expectant much more than of a competitor and rival prince. True it is, that he had begun to attach to himself among her nobles and courtiers as many adherents as his means permitted; but besides that his manœuvres remained for the most part concealed from her knowledge, they certainly carried with them no danger to her government. The partisans of James were not, like those of his mother, the adherents also of a religious faction leagued with the foreign powers most inimical to her rule, and from whose machinations she was exposed to daily peril of her throne and life. They were protestants and Englishmen, and many of them possessed of such strong hereditary influence or official rank, that it could never become their interest to throw the country into confusion by ill-timed efforts in favor of the king of Scots; whose cause they in fact embraced with no other view than to secure the state from commotion, and themselves from the loss of power on the event of the queen's demise. The puritan party indeed, by whom several attempts were afterwards made in parliament to extort from the queen a settlement of the crown in James's favor, were doubtless actuated in part by discontent with the present church-establishment, and the hope of seeing it superseded under James by a presbyterian form resembling that of Scotland. For the present, however, these religionists were sufficiently repressed under the iron rod of the High-commission court, and James had entered with them into no regular correspondence, and engaged their attachment by no promises of future indulgence or support.

On the whole, therefore, the violent jealousy with which Elizabeth continued to regard this feeble and inoffensive young king, in every point so greatly her inferior, must rather be imputed to her narrowness and malignity of temper than to any dictates of sound policy or advisable precaution; and the measures with which it prompted her were impressed accordingly with every character of spite and meanness. She was peculiarly solicitous to prevent James from increasing his consequence by marriage, and through innumerable intrigues with his ministers and favorites she had hitherto succeeded in her object. When he appeared to have set his mind on a union with the eldest daughter of the king of Denmark, she contrived to interpose so many delays and obstacles that this sovereign, conceiving himself trifled with, ended the affair by giving the princess in marriage to another. To embarrass matters still more, she next proposed to James a match with the sister of the king of Navarre, a princess much older than himself, destitute of fortune, and whose brother might be influenced to protract the negotiation to any length convenient to his valuable ally the queen of England. This proposal being declined by James, and overtures made in his name to a younger daughter of the Danish house, she again set her engines at work to thwart his wishes: but indignation and an amorous impatience for once lent to James resolution sufficient to carry his point. Disregarding a declaration of his privy-council against the match, he instigated the citizens of Edinburgh to take up arms in his cause, and finally accomplished the sending out of a splendid embassy, by which the marriage-articles were speedily settled, and the princess conducted on board the fleet which was to convey her to Scotland. A violent storm having driven her for shelter into a port of Norway, the young monarch carried his gallantry so far as to set sail in quest of her; and re-conducting her, at the request of the king her father, to Copenhagen, he there passed the winter in great joy and festivity; and as soon as the season would permit, conducted his royal consort home in triumph, and crowned her with all the magnificence that Scotland could display. Seeing the turn which matters had taken, Elizabeth now made a virtue of necessity, and dispatched a solemn embassy to express to her good brother of Scotland her hearty congratulations on his nuptials, and her satisfaction in his happy return from so adventurous a voyage.

In April 1590 died sir Francis Walsingham, principal secretary of state, whose name is found in such intimate connexion with the whole domestic policy of Elizabeth during several eventful years, that his character is in a manner identified with that of the measures at this period pursued.

This eminent person, in his youth an exile for the protestant cause, retained through life so serious a sense of religion as sometimes to expose him to the suspicion of puritanism. In his private capacity he was benevolent, friendly, and accounted a man of strict integrity: but it is right that public characters should principally be estimated by that part of their conduct in which the public is concerned; and to Walsingham as a minister the unsullied reputation of virtue and honor is not to be conceded. Unlike that pure and noble patriot who "would have lost his life with pleasure to serve his country, but would not have done a base thing to save it," this statesman seems to have held that few base things ought to be scrupled by which his queen and country might be served.

That Walsingham was of unimpeached fidelity towards his sovereign requires no proof; that he was not stimulated by views of private emolument seems also to be satisfactorily evinced, though somewhat to the discredit of his mistress, by the load of debt incurred in his official capacity under the pressure of which he lived and died: but here our praise of his public virtue must end. It is impossible to regard without indignation and disgust the system of artifice and intrigue which he contrived for the purpose of insnaring the persecuted and therefore disaffected catholics; and while due credit is given to his unwearied diligence and remarkable sagacity in detecting dangerous conspiracies, it cannot be doubted that the extraordinary encouragements held out by him to spies and informers,—those pests of a commonwealth,—must in numberless instances have rendered himself the dupe, and innocent persons the victims, of designing villany. Looking even to the immediate results of his measures, it may triumphantly be demanded by the philanthropist and the sage, whether a system less artificial, less treacherous and less cruel, would not equally well have succeeded in protecting the person of the queen from the machinations of traitors, with the further and inestimable advantage of preserving her government from reproach, and the national character from degradation.

That the system of Walsingham was in the main that also of his court and of his age, is indeed true; and this consideration might in some degree plead his excuse, did it not appear that there was in his personal character a native subtilty and talent of insinuation which, aptly conspiring with the nature of his office, might truly be said to render his duty his delight:—a feature of his mind which is thus happily delineated by a witty and ingenious writer.

"None alive did better ken the secretary's craft, to get counsels out of others and keep them in himself. Marvellous his sagacity in examining suspected persons, either to make them confess the truth, or confound themselves by denying it to their detection. Cunning his hands, who could unpick the cabinets in the pope's conclave; quick his ears, who could hear at London what was whispered at Rome; and numerous the spies and eyes of this Argus dispersed in all places.

"The Jesuits, being outshot in their own bow, complained that he out equivocated their equivocation, having a mental reservation deeper and further than theirs. They tax him for making heaven bow too much to earth, oft-times borrowing a point of conscience with full intent never to pay it again; whom others excused by reasons of state and dangers of the times. Indeed his simulation (which all allow lawful) was as like to dissimulation (condemned by all good men) as two things could be which were not the same. He thought that gold might, but intelligence could not, be bought too dear;—the cause that so great a statesman left so small an estate, and so public a person was so privately buried in St. Pauls[102]."

The long state of infirmity which preceded the death of Walsingham, had afforded abundant opportunity for various intrigues and negotiations respecting the appointment of his successor in office. Burleigh hoped to make the choice of her majesty fall on his son Robert; Essex was anxious to decide it in favor of the discarded Davison, who seems to have been performing some part of the functions of a secretary of state during the illness of Walsingham, though he did not venture to appear in the sight of his still-offended mistress. No one was more susceptible of generous emotions than Essex; and it ought not to be doubted that much of the extraordinary zeal which he manifested, during two or three entire years, in the cause of this unfortunate and ill-treated man, is to be ascribed to genuine friendship: but neither must it be concealed that this struggle for the nomination of a secretary was in effect the great and decisive trial of strength between himself and the Cecils. Several letters have been printed, written by Essex to Davison and bearing date between the years 1587 and 1590, from which a few extracts may be worth transcribing, both for the excellence of the style and the light which they reflect on the behaviour and sentiments of Elizabeth in this matter. "I had speech with her majesty yesternight after my departure from you, and I did find that the success of my speech (although I hoped for good) yet did much overrun my expectation.... I made her majesty see what, in your health, in your fortune, in your reputation in the world, you had suffered since the time that it was her pleasure to commit you; I told her how many friends and well-wishers the world did afford you, and how, for the most part, throughout the whole realm her best subjects did wish that she would do herself the honor to repair for you and restore to you that state which she had overthrown; your humble suffering of these harms and reverend regard to her majesty, must needs move a princess so noble and so just, to do you right; and more I had said, if my gift of speech had been any way comparable to my love. Her majesty, seeing her judgement opened by the story of her own actions, showed a very feeling compassion of you, she gave you many praises, and among the rest, that she seemed to please herself in was, that you were a man of her own choice. In truth she was so well pleased with those things that she spake and heard of you, that I dare (if of things future there be any assurance) promise to myself that your peace will be made to your content and the desire of your friends, I mean in her favor and your own fortune, to a better estate than, or at least the same you had, which with all my power I will employ myself to effect." &c.