and remained there many a long year, in the deeper disgrace because he could produce no proof of his marriage. He was separated from her, but bribed the keepers and gained access to her chamber, the result of which was the birth of another child. Elizabeth, we need hardly say, was more furious than ever; she declared, and probably thought, that there had been no marriage, dismissed summarily the Lieutenant, Warner, and had Hertford brought before the Star Chamber, where he was fined £15,000 and sent back to his prison, where he lay for nine years longer. During that time Lady Catherine died (1567). After his liberation he married again, but proved the validity of his first marriage in 1606 by discovering the minister who had performed it (Collins's Peerage).

The Earl of Lennox was imprisoned in 1561, on suspicion of privately corresponding with the Queen of Scots, but was released next year. His wife, however, being a near kinswoman of Elizabeth, was continually suspected by her, and was imprisoned three times, "not for any crime of treason," says Camden, "but for love matters; first when Thomas Howard, son of the first Duke of Norfolk of that name, falling in love with her, was imprisoned and died in the Tower of London; then for the love of Henry, Lord Darnley, her son, to Mary, Queen of Scots; and lastly for the love of Charles, her younger son, to Elizabeth Cavendish, mother to the Lady Arabella, with whom the Queen of Scots was accused to have made up the match." In the King's House there is an inscription in one of the rooms recording the second of these imprisonments.

The struggle between Elizabeth and the Queen of Scots was long and fierce. Before it closed on the scaffold at Fotheringhay, February, 1587, it had brought many prisoners to the Tower. Among the earliest were two more members of the Pole family, Arthur and Edmund, great grandchildren of the Duke of Clarence. They were imprisoned in the Beauchamp Tower in 1562 on the charge of conspiring to set Mary Stuart on the English throne. Inscriptions on the wall may still

one bolster and a counterpane for her woman." But some marginal notes in the handwriting of Sir Edward Warner, the Lieutenant of the Tower, state that it was all old, worn, broken and decayed, and another letter of his to Cecil in the same collection of MSS. says that the Lady Catherine did further injury to this furniture with her monkeys and her dogs.

be seen, bearing their names. There can be no question that Elizabeth's position was one of great danger. England was half ruined when she came to the throne-no army, no fleet, a huge debt, and the whole country containing a population less than that of London to-day. And Spain was rich and populous, with the finest and navy army in the world. Philip expected England to buy his support against her neighbour, France, by becoming a dependency of Spain. But he misjudged not only the courage of the Queen, but the indomitable determination of her nation. They had had enough of Spain. Unjustly, no doubt, they attributed all the miseries and disasters of Mary's reign to the Spanish alliance, and it was the special feature which so wonderfully marked the reign of Elizabeth that her people rallied round her in the hour of danger as people had never done to a sovereign before. We have to bear this in mind when thinking of the highhanded doings of Burleigh and the astute diplomacies of Walsingham. A suspicion of conspiracy was a most serious matter then. In 1569 Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk, son of the ill-fated Surrey, was brought in on the charge of high treason, his overt act being the proposal to wed the Queen of Scots. Others implicated in the conspiracy to place Mary on the throne were the Earls of Arundel and Southampton, Lord Lumley, Lord Cobham, and his brother Thomas. A batch of letters, written by an Italian banker named Ridolfi, resident in London, on the same business, got into the hands of the government, with the result that a fresh haul of prisoners was brought in. They furnished evidence that the Duke of Alva was laying plans for the murder of Elizabeth, prior to Norfolk's marriage with Mary. These prisoners were distributed in the various towers, and a young man named Charles Bailly, who was seized at Dover with a number of treasonable letters in his possession, was placed in the Tower, and under torture gave evidence against many prisoners. There are several inscriptions by him in the Beauchamp Tower. The Duke of Norfolk was beheaded on Tower Hill June 2, 1579, the first execution there for fourteen years. The old scaffold had become rotten, and a new one was set up for the occasion. John Leslie, Bishop of Ross, when put on his trial for the same crime, pleaded that, being an ambassador, he was not amenable to criminal trial. And on this plea he was put back, kept prisoner for

two years longer, and then dismissed the kingdom, to which he never returned. Some more executions took place, and a great many culprits were fined and set at liberty.

For the next few years the Tower held but few captives. Peter Burchet, a member of the Middle Temple, was committed in October, 1573, for attempting to murder Hawkins, the celebrated admiral, whom he mistook for the Chancellor Hatton. During his confinement, he struck to death a man left in charge of him, who was quietly reading the Bible at the window. His hand was first struck off for striking a blow in a royal palace, after which he was hanged at Temple Bar. In 1577 a gentleman named Sherin was drawn on a hurdle from hence to Tyburn and hanged for denying the Queen's supremacy, and six others were carried to Norwich for the like fate for coining.

But it was in 1580 that the cells again became filled with Roman Catholic prisoners. It is easy to account for this. The breach with Rome was complete; the Papal Bull had been issued for the dethronement of Elizabeth, and the newly-established Order of Jesuits was sending forth its missionaries to carry out the decree. And so it was war to the knife. Thus, in June 1580, we have William and Robert Tyrwhitt sent to the Tower for attending Mass at their sister's marriage; the Archbishop of Armagh, the Earls of Kildare and Clanricarde, with other nobles, for being concerned in the Earl of Desmond's insurrection in Ireland; and before the year was out, six Catholic priests and three laymen are added. Next year it appears as if a system of torture was established; some were confined in "Little Ease," a dungeon twenty feet below the level, in which they could neither stand upright nor lie down at length; some were racked, some placed in the "Scavenger's Daughter," an iron instrument which held bound the head, hands and feet. Add to these the thumbscrew and the boot. The most conspicuous prisoner in 1581 was Father Campion, an eloquent Jesuit who had worked hard to raise sedition in various parts of the country. He was dragged off with two other seminary priests to ignominious death, so were seven more priests that year; in 1583 a Warwickshire gentleman named Somerville strangled himself to avoid the ghastly dismemberment, but his father-in-law Arden suffered it. In 1584 five seminary priests suffered, as did Francis, the eldest son of Sir

John Throckmorton, convicted of treasonable correspondence with the Queen of Scots. In January, 1585, a clearance was made of those prisoners charged with religious offences, and twenty-one of them were shipped off to France. But their places were occupied by others, charged with complicity with the treasonable practices of Throckmorton. Among them were the Earls of Northumberland and Arundel. The former killed himself in the Tower to prevent that bitch, as he called the Queen, from getting possession of his estates by his attainder. Arundel was tried and condemned to death in 1589, but Elizabeth delayed the execution, though she gave very strict orders about his confinement. He might "walk in the Queen's garden two hours in the day, with a servant of the Lieutenant's to attend him, the garden door being shut at the time of his walking." This severity, coupled with the strictest religious austerities which he constantly practised, hastened his death (Nov. 19, 1595). A memorial of his piety, graven with his own hand, may be seen in the Beauchamp Tower. William Parry, instigated from Rome, arranged with Edmund Neville to shoot the Queen when she was out riding. But the Earl of Westmoreland died in exile. Neville was his next heir, and hoped that by revealing the plot he might recover the forfeited estates. The result was that Parry died a traitor's death and Neville was kept close prisoner for many years. Many prisoners were brought in in 1586, charged with being concerned in Babington's conspiracy. So was Davison, the Secretary of State, who was charged with sending the warrant for the death of the Queen of Scots without Elizabeth's sanction. This is generally considered to have been a crafty device of the Queen to screen herself from the odium. He exculpated himself, but was kept in the Tower, and ruinously fined by the Star Chamber. In 1598 Sir John Perrot, the Lord Deputy of Ireland, whose righteous endeavours had done much to restore tranquillity to that country, having incurred the enmity of Lord Chancellor Hatton, was recalled home and sent to the Tower on a charge of treason. He was a hot-tempered man, and had used some disrespectful words against the Queen. This was the only charge proved against him, but on it he was condemned. On being conveyed to the Tower he said to the Lieutenant in great anger that the Queen was "suffering her brother to be offered up as a sacrifice to his strutting

adversaries." He was said to be an illegitimate son of King Henry VIII. Whether or not, when this speech was reported to the Queen, she refused to sign the warrant for his execution, and declared that his accusers were all knaves. He died in the Tower six months afterwards, brokenhearted.

An illustrious name comes before us in the annals of 1592. Sir Walter Raleigh was lodged here, having incurred the Queen's displeasure by his amour with Elizabeth, daughter of Sir Nicholas Throckmorton, the celebrated statesman. He soon regained his liberty, however, by using the most fulsome adulation of his royal mistress. Here is just one specimen, an extract from a letter which he wrote to Cecil, of course in order that it might be shown to her Majesty :"My heart was never broken till this day, that I hear the Queen goes away so far off [she was about to start on her annual progress], whom I have followed so many years with so great love and desire in so many journeys, and am now left behind her in a dark prison, all alone. While she was yet near at hand, that I might hear of her once in two or three days, my sorrows were the less, but even now my heart is cast into the depth of all misery. I, that was wont to behold her riding like Alexander, hunting like Diana, walking like Venus, the gentle wind blowing her fair hair about her pure face like a nymph, sometimes sitting in the shade like a goddess, sometimes singing like an angel, sometimes playing like Orpheus."

Elizabeth was always open to flattery, but in this case her "lovestricken swain was further assisted by the arrival at Dartmouth of his good ship The Roebuck, which had taken a great Spanish treasure ship off Flores, with a treasure which Raleigh estimated at half a million pounds. The Queen gave him his liberty and sent him off to arrange the disposal of his capture, and of course got the lion's share of it. He returned to Court fresh as ever, and this return was a fatal event in the fortunes of another brilliant courtier, in fact the most brilliant, of Elizabeth's surrounding, Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex. He and Raleigh were bitter enemies. Ireland was again giving trouble. Raleigh advised that the disturbers should remorselessly be trampled out, Essex that justice and good-will should be shown. The discussion between them was firm on both sides, and when we remember that both men were high

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