This extraordinary woman, the daughter of Henry VIII. and Anne Boleyn, was born in 1533. Being educated a Protestant, and having adopted the principles of the reformation, she was looked upon with suspicion and treated with harshness during the reign of her sister Mary. She devoted herself, however, to study, and is thus described at this period: “She was of admirable beauty, and well deserving a crown; of a modest gravity, excellent wit, royal soul, happy memory, and indefatigably given to the study of learning, insomuch as, before she was seventeen years of age, she understood well the Latin, French, and Italian tongues, and had an indifferent knowledge of the Greek. Neither did she neglect music, so far as it became a princess, being able to sing sweetly, and play handsomely on the lute.”

On the death of Mary, in 1558, she was immediately proclaimed queen, and was received in the metropolis with the loudest acclamations. She consigned to oblivion all the affronts she had received during the late reign, and prudently assumed the gracious demeanor of the common sovereign of all her subjects. Philip of Spain soon made her proposals of marriage; but she knew the aversion borne him by the nation too well to think of accepting him.

She now proceeded to the arduous task of settling the religion of the state. In comparison with the harsh and cruel measures of her predecessor, her conduct was marked with moderation. Yet the Catholics were made to feel the severest restraints upon their liberty of thought and action. It was not long before she began that interference in the affairs of Scotland which produced the most singular and painful events in her reign. These we have sufficiently detailed in the life of the unhappy Queen Mary.

The political history of Elizabeth would fill a volume. She soon acquired great reputation for vigor and sagacity, and was regarded as the head of the Protestant party in Europe. She took the part of the revolted provinces of Holland against Spain in 1585, and three years after, when threatened by what was called the “Invincible Armada,” she displayed a degree of energy and personal courage which would have done credit to a sovereign of the other sex. She mingled largely in the political affairs of the continent, and, in 1601, held a conference with the celebrated Sully, with a view to the adjustment of a new balance of European power. While thus directing her attention to general politics, she did not neglect the internal affairs of her kingdom. These were indeed conducted with great sagacity and wisdom, and such was the state of prosperity among the people, that the “good old days of Queen Bess” is still a proverb in England. Although thus attentive to the concerns of government, Elizabeth devoted much time and expense to dress, of which she was excessively fond; and she even affected a love of literature and learning. The age in which she lived is remarkable for the great men it produced Shakspere, Bacon, Sidney, Hooker, and Raleigh, whose works contributed so much to give vigor, strength, and elegance, to the English tongue. Literature owes, however, little to her; she was much more fond of displaying her own acquirements than encouraging the learned. Whatever countenance Shakspere received from royalty, he owed to his friends Essex and Southampton; and Spenser, who has sung the praises of the queen in “strains divine,” died in neglect and poverty.

Elizabeth was fond of multiplying pictures of herself, and so far encouraged painting. One of her most characteristic ordinances is a proclamation forbidding all manner of persons from drawing, painting, graving, &c., her majesty’s person and visage, till some perfect pattern should be prepared by a skilful limner, “for the consolation of her majesty’s loving subjects, who were grieved, and took great offence, at the errors and deformities committed by sundry persons in this respect.” She was so little capable of judging of works of art, that she would not allow a painter to put any shadows upon the face, “because,” as she said, “shade is an accident, and not in nature.”

During her whole reign, Elizabeth was subjected to the influence of favorites. The most celebrated of these are the Earls of Leicester and of Essex. The first was a most weak and worthless man, contemned and feared by the nobles, and odious to the people; yet, in spite of all his vices and incapacity, he maintained his influence for nearly thirty years. Her partiality for Essex seems to have been the dotage of a vain old woman. She could not appreciate his fine qualities; she would not make allowance for his faults; and he was too frank and spirited to cringe at her footstool. “I owe her majesty,” said he upon an occasion when she had repaid some want of obsequiousness by a blow, “the duty of an earl, but I will never serve her as a villain and a slave!” Essex was too rash and unsuspecting to be a match for the cool and wily ministers, whose interest it was to have him out of their way, not only as the favorite of the present sovereign, but as likely to be all powerful with her successor; and partly by their arts, and partly by his own fiery temper, he was brought to the block in the thirty-fourth year of his age. In the exasperation of offended power and jealous self-will, the queen signed the warrant for his execution, and pined away the remainder of her life in unavailing remorse. This grief, with which she long struggled in secret, at length broke forth superior to control. The occasion was as follows:

The Countess of Nottingham, a near relation, but no friend, of Essex, being on her death-bed, entreated to see the queen, declaring that she had something to confess to her before she could die in peace. On her majesty’s arrival, the countess produced a ring, which she said the Earl of Essex had sent to her, after his condemnation, with an earnest request that she would deliver it to the queen, as a token by which he implored her mercy; but that, in obedience to her husband, she withheld it. Elizabeth at once recognized the ring as one which she had herself presented to her favorite, with the tender promise, that of whatsoever crimes his enemies might have accused him, or whatever offences he might actually have committed against her, on his returning to her that pledge, she would either pardon him, or admit him, at least, to justify himself in her presence. It was in a moment of pique at his supposed pride and obstinacy in refusing to ask her forgiveness, that she had signed the death-warrant. She now learned that he had been the victim, and herself the dupe, of the most barbarous treachery. Transported with grief and rage, she shook the dying countess in her bed; and, vehemently exclaiming, “God may forgive, but I never will,” she flung herself out of the chamber.

Returning to the palace, she surrendered herself without resistance to the despair which had seized her heart on this fatal disclosure. She refused medicine, and almost the means of sustenance; days and nights she sat upon the floor, sleepless, her eyes fixed, and her finger pressed upon her mouth, the silence only broken by her sighs, groans, and ejaculations of anguish. Her sufferings were at length relieved by her death, on the 24th of March, 1603. Her last words were strongly characteristic. During her whole life, she had shown a perverse dread of naming her successor; but it was necessary that the question should be put to her in her last moments. She replied, “My seat has been the seat of kings, and I will have no rascal to succeed me.” Cecil, whom the weakness of the dying lioness rendered bold, inquired what she meant by the words, “that no rascal should succeed her;” to which she answered, “I will have a king to succeed me, and who should that be but the king of Scots?”

The personal character of Elizabeth presents little that excites our sympathy or respect. She was vain, jealous, and selfish, in the extreme. She was capable of the deepest hypocrisy, and often practised it. She sacrificed every thing to her despotic love of sway, her pride, and her vanity, except the interests of her kingdom. These she guarded with care, and, though a tyrannical and selfish monarch, she must be ranked as among the best sovereigns of her time.