The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 12, No. 343, November 29, 1828. Various
reputation as a woman and a sovereign. But we learn from this letter the humiliating effects made by her ministers to appease her fury, and her implacable resolution to overwhelm the unfortunate Davison with the effect of her assumed, or perhaps real repentance. In his apology, that statesman informs us, that on the Friday after Mary's execution, namely, on the 10th of February, arriving at the court he learnt the manner in which the queen had expressed herself relative to the event; but being advised to "absent himself for a day or two," and being, moreover, extremely ill, he left the court, and returned to London. Woolley's communication being dated on Sunday, (the manuscript is so excessively badly written as to be almost illegible,) shows that Elizabeth did not summon her council, and evince her displeasure at their conduct, until Saturday, the 13th of February, two days after she was informed of Mary's fate. Davison had been attacked with a stroke of the palsy shortly before, and all he says of his committal is, that he was not sent to the Tower until Tuesday the 14th, on account of his illness; though some days previous (probably on Saturday the 10th) the queen assembled her council.
This letter also exhibits a specimen of Leicester's characteristic meanness; for notwithstanding that he was a party to the act of forwarding the warrant for Mary's death, as his name occurs among those of the council who signed the letters to the Earl of Shrewsbury, the earl marshal, and to the Earl of Kent, both of which were dated on the 3rd of February, 1586-7, commanding them to cause it to be put into execution, he took care to withdraw from court before Elizabeth performed the roll, which has so justly excited the scorn of posterity. It may be also remarked, as another example of the official duplicity of the period, that Sir Francis Walsingham likewise affected not to have been concerned in the affair of dispatching the warrant, as in his letter to Lord Thulstone, the secretary to King James, dated at Greenwich, on the 4th of March, 1586-7, less than a month afterwards, he says, "Being absent from court when the late execution of the queen, your sovereign mother, happened," though we find that he signed both the letters just mentioned.
A Letter from John Woolley, clerk of the Council in the time of Elizabeth, to the Earl of Leicester.
To the Righte Honorable my singular good the Earle of Leycester, one of her Maties Most Honorable Privie Councell.
RYGHTE Honorable and my moste especiall goode Lorde,—It pleased her M'tye yesterday night to call the lord treasurer and other of her councell before her into her withdrawing chamber, where she rebuked us all exceedingly, from our concealing from her our proceeding in the Queen of Scott's case; but her indignation particularlye lyghteth most upon my lord treasurer and Mr. Davison, who called us togeather, and delivered the commissione, for she protesteth she gave expresse commandement to the contrarye, and therefore hath taken order for the committing of Mr. Secretary Davison to the Tower, iff she contenew in the mynd she was yeterday night, albeit we all kneeled upon our knees to praye her to the contrarye.
I think your lordship happy to be absent from these broiles, and thought it my dewtye to lett you understand them; and so in haste I humblye take my leave.—At the Courte, this present Sunday,1 1586.
Your lordship's ever most bounden,
P.S. I have oftentimes sent unto John, your old servante, Mr. Norld, to pray humbly your lordship's orders for the ordering of his case; he hath been long in prisone, and desireth your lordship's orders for the hearing of his case, which it may please your lordship to express unto me.—Cottonian MSS. Caligula, c. ix. fol. 168, (Original.)
The Topographer
A VISIT TO STUDLEY PARK AND FOUNTAINS ABBEY, YORKSHIRE
"Yet still thy turrets drink the light
Of summer evening's softest ray;
And ivy garlands, green and bright,
Still mantle thy decay;
And calm and beauteous, as of old,
Thy wand'ring river glides in gold."
Among the most attractive scenes of northern Yorkshire is Studley Park, renowned for the richness of its sylvan scenery, which embosoms the noble ruin of Fountains Abbey.
For the date of my visit to this Arcadia, I must refer the reader to that season of life when the pure source of thought and feeling is untainted by the world. It is eleven miles from my home to Studley Park, five of which I walked in the twilight of a summer's evening, and slept at a little cottage by the way. The day had been sultry, and the moon rose slowly over the mounds of Maiden Bower, once the site of the noble mansion of the Percys, now destroyed and desolate;2 and fell in dreary softness on tower and wood, illumining the sable firs of Newby Park, and throwing another lustre on the gaudy "gowans" that decked the adjacent meadow. Here was a scene for the poetic sympathy of youth:
"That time is past,
And all its giddy rapture;
Yet not for this faint I, nor mourn;
Other gifts have followed; for such loss
I would believe, abundant recompense."
The morning found me, after an early breakfast, on the road to Studley Park. Now there are some "moods of my own mind" in which I detest all vehicles of conveyance, when on an excursive tour to admire the antique and picturesque.—Thus what numerous attractions are presented to us, sauntering along the woody lane on foot, which are lost or overlooked in the velocity of a drive! On the declivity of a meadow, inviting our reflection, rises a little Saxon church, grey with antiquity, and solemnized by its surrounding memorials of "Here lies."—Across the heath, encircled with fences of uncouth stones, stands a stern record of feudal yore; at the next turn peeps the rectory, encircled with old firs, trained fruit trees, and affectionate ivy; beneath yon darkened thickets rolls the lazy Ure, expanding into laky broadness; and, beyond yon western woods, which embower the peaceful hamlet, are seen the "everlasting hills," across which the enterprising Romans constructed their road. I next passed the boundaries of Newby Park, the property of Lord Grantham. Here beneath enormous beeches were clustering the timid deer, "in sunshine remote;" and the matin songs of birds were sounding from the countless clumps which skirt this retreat. Within that solitude had I enjoyed the society of a brother, alas, now no more! and yet the landscape wore the same sunny smile as when I carved his name on the towering obelisk before him. I felt that sorrow so exquisitely described by Burns:
"How can ye bloom so fresh and fair;
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I so weary, fu' o' care."
Leaving Rainton, a sudden rise brings you to the Roman Military Road, leading from Aldborough,3 the Isurium of the Romans, to Inverness, in Scotland. This road was repaired by the Empress Heleanae, and hence the corruption, from her name, of Learning Lane, its present designation. It was laid by the Romans, with stones of immense size, which have frequently been dug up. The Via Appia, at Rome, which has lasted 1,800 years, resembles it in construction. Raised considerably above the level of the country which it crosses, it is an object of wonder and interest even to the illiterate, on account of the continuous perspective it presents; there being no bend in it for several miles. Traversing this noble monument of art, how are we led to think on the "strange mutations" which have overthrown kings and kingdoms in the period of its duration, whilst the road remains "like an eternity:"
ON CROSSING THE ROMAN MILITARY ROAD, LEADING FROM ISURIUM TO THE NORTH
O'er classic ground my humble feet did plod,
My bosom beating with the glow of song;
And high-born fancy walk'd with me along,
Treading the earth Imperial Caesar trod.
A thousand
12th February, 1586-7.
Here Henry Percy, the fourth Earl of Northumberland, was murdered by an infuriated mob, in the fourth year of Henry VII.; he having, as lord lieutenant of the county, levied a tax on the people by order of his sovereign, for carrying on the war in Bretague. Skelton, poet-laureat to Henry VIII. lamented his death in some elegiac lines.
Aldburgh, or Aldborough, so called by the Normans, was the Iseur of the Ancient Britons, and the Isurium of the Romans. Perhaps there is not another Roman city, not even excepting York, where so many antiquities have been discovered. The opening of ancient baths, burial vaults, &c. has led to the finding of tesselated pavements, coins, urns, rings, lachrymatories, seals, monumental inscriptions, medals, statues, chains, sacrificing vessels, &c. It is to be lamented that modern ignorance and barbarity are fast obliterating all traces of the Roman walls of Isurium; their foundations having been dug up for the mercenary purpose of obtaining their materials. We cannot sufficiently censure such irreverence to "hoar antiquity," or the contracted and grovelling ideas which actuate such village Vandals.