The part taken by Arundel, in favour of Elizabeth, was so decided, that the queen was advised to send him to the Tower. Paget appears to have played a double game, first plotting with one side and then with the other; sometimes urging the immediate execution of Elizabeth, and then intriguing with her partisans. In the midst of these agitations, the queen was stricken with a sudden illness, and it must have been at that time that Gardiner, on his own responsibility, sent a privy council warrant to the lieutenant of the Tower for the immediate execution of Elizabeth. He knew the temper of that princess, and probably considered that in the event of the queen's death, he had sinned too deeply against her to be forgiven, and therefore ventured a bold stroke to prevent the possibility of the sword of vengeance passing into her hand, by her succeeding to the royal office. Bridges, the honest lieutenant of the Tower, observing that the queen's signature was not affixed to this illegal instrument, for the destruction of the heiress of the realm, and being sore grieved for the charge it contained, refused to execute it till he had ascertained the queen's pleasure by a direct communication on the subject with her majesty.' The delay caused by this caution preserved Elizabeth from the machinations of her foes. The queen was much displeased when she found such a plot was in agitation, and sent sir Henry Bedingfeld, a stern Norfolk knight, in whose courage and probity she knew she could confide, with a hundred of her guard, to take the command of the Tower till she could form some plan for the removal of her sister to one of the royal residences further from the metropolis. Notwithstanding all that had been done by friends, foes, and designing foreign potentates, to inflame the queen's mind against Elizabeth, the voice of nature was suffered to plead in behalf of the oppressed captive. Early in May it was noticed that her majesty began, when speaking of Elizabeth, to call her "sister," which she had not done before since her imprisonment, and that she had caused her portrait to be replaced next to her own in her gallery.3 She had positively given up the idea of bringing either her or Courtenay to trial for their alleged offences, and had negatived the suspicious proposal of the emperor that Elizabeth should be sent into a sort of honourable banishment to the court of his sister, the queen of Hungary, or his own court at Brussels. It was then suggested in council that she should be imprisoned at Pontefract Castle; but that ill-omened place, "stained with the blood of princes," was rejected for the royal bowers of Woodstock, where it was finally determined to send her, under the charge of sir Henry Bedingfeld, and lord Williams of Tame, who were both stanch catholics. Elizabeth, who naturally regarded every unwonted movement and change with apprehension, when she first saw sir Henry Bedingfeld, and the hundred men-at-arms in blue coats under his command, enter the 'Heywood's England's Elizabeth; Fox; Speed. See the preceding memoir, vol. v. 2 See the Life of Mary, vol. v. Renaud's Letters to the Emperor. 'Noailles. inner court of the Tower, supposing it to be a prelude to her execution, demanded in terror, "if the lady Jane's scaffold were removed.” She then sent for lord Chandos, and fearfully inquired the meaning of what she saw. He endeavoured to calm her mind by telling her, "that she had no cause for alarm; but that his orders were to consign her into the charge of sir Henry Bedingfeld, to be conveyed, he believed, to Woodstock." Elizabeth then declared that she knew not what manner of man Bedingfeld was, and inquired, "whether he were a person who made conscience of murder, if such an order were entrusted to him?" Her mind evidently recurred on this occasion to the appointment of sir James Tyrrel by Richard III. for the midnight murder of the youthful brethren of her grandmother, Elizabeth of York, as a parallel circumstance; and when it is remembered that seventy years had not elapsed since the perpetration of that mysterious tragedy, it is not to be wondered, that the stout heart of Elizabeth Tudor, occasionally vibrated with a thrill of terror, during her incarceration as a state prisoner, within those gloomy walls. 3 The 19th of May is generally mentioned as the date of Elizabeth's removal from the Tower. We find this notice in a contemporary record: "The 20th day of May, my lady Elizabeth, the queen's sister, came out of the Tower, and took her barge at the Tower wharf, and so to Richmond." Elizabeth was attended on this occasion by the lordtreasurer, (marquis of Winchester,) and the chamberlain. She performed the voyage to Richmond without once landing, till she arrived there.1 It is affirmed that she was then conducted to the palace, where she had *an interview with the queen, her sister, who offered her pardon and liberty, on condition of her accepting the hand of Philibert of Savoy, prince of Piedmont, in marriage; and that she firmly refused to contract matrimony with him or any other foreign prince whatsoever, alleging her preference of a single life." The harsh measures that were adopted that evening at Richmond, in removing all her own servants from their attendance on her person, were probably resorted to on account of the inflexibility of her determination on this point. She evidently considered herself in great peril, for she required the prayers of her departing servants with mournful earnestness, "for this night," said she, "I think I must die;" which sorrowful words drew fountains of tears from their eyes, and her gentlemanusher went to the lord Tame in the court, and conjured him to tell him, "whether the princess his mistress were in danger of death that night; that if so, he and his fellows might take such part as God would appoint." Marry, God forbid !" exclaimed lord Tame," that any such 66 1 Speed's Chronicle; Fox. 2 Chandos appears the same person as Bridges, the lieutenant of the Tower. MS. Cotton. Vital, fol. v. 'Letter from Robert Swift to the earl of Shrewsbury. Lodge's Illustrations, vol. i., p. 238. Nare's Life of Burleigh. wickedness should be intended, which rather than it should be wrought, I and my men will die at her feet." All night, however, a strict guard of soldiers kept watch and ward about the house where she lay, to prevent escape or rescue. The next morning, in crossing the river at Richmond, to proceed on her melancholy journey towards Woodstock, she found her disbanded servants lingering on the banks of the Thames to take a last look of her. "Go to them," said she, to one of the gentlemen in her escort, "and tell them from me 'Tanquam ovis,' like a sheep to the slaughter, for so,” added she, “am I led." No one was, however, permitted to have access to her, and the most rigorous scrutiny was used towards every one who endeavoured to open the slightest communication, either direct or indirect, with the royal captive. Noailles, the French ambassador, no sooner understood that Elizabeth was removed from the Tower, than he commenced his old tricks, by sending a spy with a present of apples to her on her journey; a very unwelcome mark of attention from such a quarter, considering the troubles and dangers in which the unfortunate girl had already been involved, in consequence of that unprincipled diplomat's previous intercourse with her, and her household. The guards, as a matter of course, stopped and examined the messenger, whom they stripped to the shirt,2 but found nothing except the apples, which from the season of the year might appear an acceptable offering, but certainly an ill-judged one under the present circumstances; and doubtless it had an unfavourable effect on the mind of Elizabeth's stern guardian, sir Henry Bedingfeld. The sympathy of the people for the distressed heiress of the realm, was manifested by their assembling to meet her by the way, and greeting her with tearful prayers and loving words; but when they pressed nearer, to obtain a sight of her, they were driven back, and angrily reviled by the names of rebels and traitors to the queen; and whereas, pursues the chronicler, "in certain villages the bells were rung for joy of her supposed deliverance as she passed, sir Henry Bedingfeld took the matter so distastefully that he commanded the bells to be stopped, and set the ringers in the stocks." The second day's journey brought Elizabeth to Windsor, where she spent the night, and lodged in the dean's-house near Saint George's chapel. The next resting-place was Ricote, in Oxfordshire, which being the seat of lord Williams of Tame, she there received every princely and hospitable entertainment, from that amiable nobleman, who had invited a noble company of knights and ladies, to meet his royal charge at dinner, and treated her with all the marks of respect that were due to her exalted rank as the sister of his sovereign. This seasonable kindness greatly revived the drooping spirits of the princess, though it was considered rather de trop by sir Richard Bedingfeld, who significantly asked his fellow-commissioner, "if he were aware of the consequences of thus entertaining the queen's prisoner ?" 1 Speed; Fox. 2 Noailles' Despatches. 'Speed; Fox. The generous Williams replied, with manly spirit, " that let what would befal, her grace might and should be merry in his house."1 It is said, that when Elizabeth expressed a wish to sir Henry Bedingfeld, to delay her departure till she had seen a game of chess, in which lord Williams and another gentleman were engaged, played out; he would not permit it. Probably, sir Henry suspected that she intended to outwit him by means of a secret understanding between the friendly antagonists, in order to gain time; for it is well known, that a game of chess may be prolonged for days, and in fact to any length of time. It is also related, that as they were proceeding towards Woodstock, a violent storm of wind and rain, which they encountered, greatly disordered the princess's dress, insomuch, that her hood and veil were twice or thrice blown off, on which she begged to retire to a gentleman's house, near the road. This, we are told, sir Henry Bedingfeld, who, perhaps, had some reason for his caution, would not permit; and it is added, that the royal prisoner was fain to retire behind the shelter of a hedge by the way-side to replace her head-gear and bind up her disordered tresses.2 When she arrived at Woodstock, instead of being placed in the royal apartments, she was lodged in the gatehouse of the palace, in a room which retained the name of "the princess Elizabeth's chamber," till it was demolished in the year 1714.3 Holinshed has preserved the rude couplet which she wrote with a diamond on a pane of glass, in the window of this room. "Much suspected-of me, Her confinement at Woodstock was no less rigorous than when she was in the Tower. Sixty soldiers were on guard all day, both within and without the quarter of the palace where she was in ward; and forty kept watch within the walls all night; and though she obtained permission to walk in the gardens, it was under very strict regulations; and five or sick locks were made fast after her whenever she came within the appointed bounds for her joyless recreation. Although sir Henry Bedingfeld has been very severely censured on account of these restraints, and other passages of his conduct, with regard to the captive princess, there is reason to believe that his harshness has been exaggerated, and that he had great cause to suspect that the ruthless party who thirsted for Elizabeth's blood, having been foiled in their eagerly expressed wish of seeing her brought to the block, were conspiring to take her off by murder. This he was determined should not be done while she was in his charge. It is said, that once, having locked the garden-gates when Elizabeth was walking, she passionately upbraided him for it, and called him "her 1 Holinshed. 2 Fox. By Sarah, duchess of Marlborough, who had the ill taste to destroy the last relic of this ancient abode of royalty, which had been hallowed by the historical recollections of six centuries, and the memory of Plantagenet, Tudor, and Stuart monarchs. jailor;" on which he knelt to her, beseeching her "not to give him that harsh name, for he was one of her officers appointed to serve her, and guard her from the dangers by which she was beset."1 Among the incidents of Elizabeth's imprisonment, a mysterious tale is told of an attempt made by one Basset, a creature of Gardiner, against her life, during the temporary absence of sir Henry Bedingfeld. This Basset, it seems, had been, with five-and-twenty disguised ruffians, loitering with evil intentions at Bladenbridge, seeking to obtain access to the lady Elizabeth, on secret and important business, as he pretended; but sir Henry had given such strict cautions to his brother, whom he left as deputy castellan in his absence, that no one should approach the royal prisoner, that the project was defeated. Once, a dangerous fire broke out in the quarter of the palace where she was confined, which was kindled, apparently not by accident, between the ceiling of the room under her chamber and her chamber floor, by which her life would have been greatly endangered, had it not been providentially discovered before she retired to rest. The lofty spirit of Elizabeth, though unsubdued, was saddened by the perils and trials to which she was daily exposed, and in the bitterness of her heart she once expressed a wish to change fortunes with the milkmaid, whom she saw singing merrily over her pail, while milking the cows in Woodstock Park, for she said, "that milkmaid's lot was better than hers, and her life merrier." 3 It was doubtless while in this melancholy frame of mind that the following touching lines were composed by the royal captive, which have been preserved by Hentzner, with the interesting tradition that she wrote them on a shutter with a piece of charcoal, no doubt at a period when she was entirely deprived of pen and ink. แ 'Oh, Fortune! how thy restless wavering state Thou caus'dst the guilty to be loosed From bands wherein are innocents enclosed, And freeing those that death had well deserved, So God send to my foes all they have wrought, Quoth ELIZABETH, Prisoner." 4 She also composed some elegant Latin lines on the same subject, and when in a more heavenly frame of mind, inscribed the following quaint but beautiful sentence in the blank leaf of a black-letter edition of the epistles of St. Paul, which she used during her lonely imprisonment at Woodstock. “August.—I walk many times into the pleasant fields of the Holy Scriptures, where I pluck up the goodlisome herbes of sentences by pruning, eat them by reading, chew them by musing, and lay them up at length in the high seat of memorie, by gathering them together, that so having tasted their sweetness I may the less perceive the bitterness of this miserable life." 'Heywood. 2 Speed. Holinshed; Fox. F 'Hentzner. |