from any feeling of the grief, yet we have heard that other gentlemen also of the House, who stand as free, have spoken as freely in it; which gives us to know, that no respects or interests have moved them other than the minds they bear to suffer no diminution of our honour and our subjects love unto us. The zeal of which affection tending to ease my people, and knit their hearts unto us, I embrace with a princely care far above all earthly treasures. I esteem my people's love, more than which I desire not to merit: and God, that gave me here to sit, and placed me over you, knows, that I never respected myself, but as your good was conserved in me; yet what dangers, what practices, and what perils I have passed, some, if not all of you know; but none of these things do move me, or ever made me fear, but it's God that hath delivered me.

And in my governing this land, I have ever set the last judgment day before mine eyes, and so to rule as I shall be judged and answer before a higher Judge, to whose judgment seat I do appeal: in that never thought was cherished in my heart that tended not to my people's good.

And if my princely bounty have been abused; and my grants turned to the hurt of my people contrary to my will and meaning, or if any in authority under me have neglected, or converted what I have committed unto them, I hope God will not lay their culps to my charge.

To be a king, and wear a crown, is a thing more glorious to them that see it than it's pleasant to them that bear it: for myself, I never was so much enticed with the glorious name of a king, or the royal authority of a queen, as delighted that God hath made me his instrument to maintain his truth and glory, and to defend this kingdom from dishonour, damage, tyranny and oppression. But should I ascribe any of these things to myself or my sexly weakness, I were not worthy to live, and of all most unworthy of the mercies I have received at God's hands, but to God only and wholly all is given and ascribed.

The cares and troubles of a crown I cannot more fitly resemble than to the drugs of a learned physician, perfumed with some aromatical savour, or to bitter pills gilded over, by which they are made more acceptable or less offensive, which indeed are bitter and unpleasant to take; and for my own part, were it not for conscience sake to discharge the duty that God hath laid upon me, and to maintain his glory, and keep you in safety, in mine own disposition I should be willing to resign the place I hold to any other, and glad to be freed of the glory with the labours, for it is not my desire to live nor to reign, longer

L

than my life and reign shall be for your good. And though you have had and may have many mightier and wiser princes sitting in this seat, yet you never had nor shall have any that will love you better.

Thus, Mr. Speaker, I commend me to your loyal loves, and yours to my best care and your further councils; and I pray you, Mr. Controller and Mr. Secretary, and you of my council, that before these gentlemen depart into their countries, you bring them all to kiss my hand.

62. QUEEN ELIZABETH TO JAMES VI. OF SCOTLAND (1587).

Let us now return to Elizabeth's baser qualities, which were mentioned in the preface to her speeches-Extract 61. They include duplicity, or, to speak frankly, habitual lying. If an immediate purpose could be attained by falsehood, she said what would serve her turn. This side of her nature is illustrated by a letter to James VI. of Scotland after his mother's execution. Elizabeth, fearing a possible attempt at revenge, pretends that the tragedy at Fotheringay Castle was all a mistake. Some historians have accepted her statement, forgetting that no minister nor council would have dared take the decision in such a matter out of her hands.

SOURCE.-Historical Letters. Ed. Sir H. Ellis. London, 1824. First Series. Vol. iii., p. 22.

My dear Brother,—

I would you knew (though not felt) the extreme dolor that overwhelms my mind, for that miserable accident which (far contrary to my meaning) hath befallen. I have now sent this kinsman of mine 1 whom ere now it hath pleased you to favour, to instruct you truly of that which is too irksome for my pen to tell you. I beseech you that as God and many more know, how innocent I am in this case: so you will believe me that if I had bid [directed] ought I would have bid [abided] by it. I am not so base minded that fear of any living creature or prince should make me afraid to do that were just, or don [make me] to deny the same. I am not of so base a lineage, nor carry so vile a mind. But, as not to disguise, fits not a King, so will I

1 Sir Robert Carey.

never dissemble my actions, but cause them show even as I meant them. Thus assuring yourself of me, that as I know this was deserved, yet if I had meant it I would never lay it on others' shoulders; no more will I not damnify myself, that thought it not.

The circumstance it may please you to have of this bearer. And for your part, think you have not in the world a more loving kinswoman, nor a more dear friend than myself; nor any that will watch more carefully to preserve you and your estate. And who shall otherwise persuade you, judge them more partial to others than you. And thus in haste I leave to trouble [cease troubling] you: beseeching God to send you a long reign. The 14th of Feb., 1586.1

Your most assured loving sister
and cousin,

ELIZAB. R.

63. MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS TO QUEEN ELIZABETH (1582).

Considered solely as a woman, Elizabeth lacks the grace and spirit, the vivacity and the charm which are conspicuous in her cousin Mary Stuart. The vexed question of the latter's character can be debated only at length, but her dash and directness of utterance are visible in the letter which she sent to Elizabeth on receipt of the news that her son James had been seized by the Protestant nobles of Scotland. Her plea for permission to leave the kingdom, that she might devote the rest of her life to religion was not very sincere, if we may judge from the plots in which she subsequently engaged. The point involved, however, is not one of morals: it is the captive's fire and passion which should be noted. This letter was written in French at Sheffield Castle, where the Queen of Scotland was confined under Lord Shrewsbury's guard.

SOURCE. Recueil des Lettres de Marie Stuart (1542-1587). Ed. Prince Labanoff. London, 1884. Vol. v., p. 329. Trans. C. W. Colby.

I tell you quite openly that I regard this last conspiracy and change as pure treason against the life of my son, his welfare and that of the country: and that so long as he shall be in the condition in which I understand that he is, I shall not consider

1 Old style.

any word, writing or other act which comes from him, or passes under his name to proceed from his frank and free disposition, but only from the said conspirators, who at the price of his life use him as their mask.

With all this liberty of speech, Madame, which I foresee may in some way displease you (although it is truth itself), you will find it I am sure still more strange that I now come again to importune you with a request of much greater importance and one which is nevertheless very easy for you to grant and effect . . . I beseech you, and, in honour of the dolorous passion of our Saviour and Redeemer, Jesus Christ, I beseech you once more to permit me to retire from this kingdom to some place of rest, to seek some relief for my poor body, so worn with constant suffering, and, with liberty of conscience, to prepare my soul for God who daily calls it.

Believe, Madame (and the doctors whom you sent me this last summer can have formed an opinion), that I am not likely long to be in a condition which can justify jealousy or distrust. And this notwithstanding, exact from me such assurances and just and reasonable conditions as you wish. Superior force is always on your side to make me keep them, even though for any reason whatever I should wish to break them. You have had from observation enough experience of my bare promises, sometimes even to my own damage, as I showed you on this subject two years ago. Remember if you please what I then wrote you and that in no way could you so much win over my heart to yourself as by kindness, although you have confined forever my poor body to languish between four walls; those of rank and disposition not permitting themselves to be gained over or forced by any amount of harshness.

my

Your prison without right or just warrant has already destroyed my body of which you will soon have an end, if it remains there any longer, and my enemies will have but little time to satiate their cruelty upon me. My soul alone remains to me, which it is not in your power to enthral. Give it then a place to breathe in, a little more freely, its salvation, which, alone it now seeks more than any grandeur of this world. It seems to me that it cannot be much satisfaction, honour or advantage to you that my enemies trample my life at your feet, even to the point of suffocating me before you; but if instead (although too late) you would take me in this extremity out of their hands, you would make me and all those who belong to me greatly beholden to you, especially my poor child, whom thereby you might possibly secure. I shall not cease to weary you

incessantly with this request until it be granted me; and on this account I pray you to let me understand your intention, as in order to please you I have waited two years before renewing my entreaty, to which the wretched state of my health urges me more than you can think. Provide, however, if you please, for the improvement of my keeping, because it is not in my power to suffer longer; and do not place me at the discretion of any one else save yourself, from whom alone (as I said when I last wrote you) I wish henceforth to take all the good and evil which I shall receive in your country. Do me this favour that I may have your intention in writing or that the French ambassador may have it for me; for to rest satisfied with what the Earl of Shrewsbury or others shall say or write on your behalf, I have too much experience to derive any assurance therefrom.

...

In conclusion I have to request two things especially the one, that about as I am to leave this world I may have by me for my consolation some honourable churchman, in order that I may daily examine the road which I have to traverse and be instructed how to complete it according to my religion, in which I am firmly resolved to live and die. This is a last duty which cannot be denied to the most wretched and miserable person alive; it is a liberty which you give to all foreign ambassadors, just as all other Catholic kings allow yours the practice of their religion. And as for myself, have I ever forced my own subjects to do anything against their religion even when I had all power and authority over them? And you cannot justly bring it to pass that I should be in this extremity, deprived of such a privilege. What advantage can accrue to you from denying me this? I hope that God will forgive me if, oppressed by you in this wise, I do not cease from paying him that duty which in my heart will be permitted. But you will give a very ill example to other princes of Christendom of employing, towards their subjects and relatives, the same harshness which you meet out to me, a sovereign queen and your nearest relative, as I am and shall be in despite of my enemies so long as I live.

I do not wish to trouble you now about the increase of my household, about which for the time that I still have to live here I shall not have much need. I only ask you for two female attendants to assist me during my illness; assuring you before God that they would be very necessary even were I a poor creature of the common people. Grant them to me in honour of God, and prove that my enemies have not so much