In the literature of our country, however copious, the eye of the curious student may still detect important deficiencies.

We possess, for example, many and excellent histories, embracing every period of our domestic annals;—biographies, general and particular, which appear to have placed on record the name of every private individual justly entitled to such commemoration;—and numerous and extensive collections of original letters, state-papers and other historical and antiquarian documents;—whilst our comparative penury is remarkable in royal lives, in court histories, and especially in that class which forms the glory of French literature,—memoir.

To supply in some degree this want, as it affects the person and reign of one of the most illustrious of female and of European sovereigns, is the intention of the work now offered with much diffidence to the public.

Its plan comprehends a detailed view of the private life of Elizabeth from the period of her birth; a view of the domestic history of her reign; memoirs of the principal families of the nobility and biographical anecdotes of the celebrated characters who composed her court; besides notices of the manners, opinions and literature of the reign.

Magna Charta declares that no freeman shall be taken or imprisoned, but by the lawful judgment of his equals, or the law of the land.

When a prisoner is convicted by the “lawful judgment of his equals,” imprisonment is sometimes a part, and sometimes the whole of the penalty awarded against him; and evidently with the strictest justice, because it is proved that he has been guilty of an offence, and this is the appointed punishment.

But the “law of the land” finds it necessary to depart from this rigid rule of equity, which would abridge only that man of his freedom, who had been pronounced a delinquent by the verdict of his peers. The security of the whole demands, that the liberty of some should be suspended for a certain period. Persons are accused of crimes–they may be innocent, or they may be guilty: but their detention is necessary until the time arrives in which one or the other can be established; yet, they are innocent in the eye of the law, till their guilt is proved; and in this case imprisonment is not imposed as a penalty, it is merely permitted as the only method of insuring the appearance of the person suspected, on the day of trial.

This house of correction, on which it is proposed to expend nearly 600,000l. is built in a morass. On going towards it, we observed a line, marking the height to which the water occasionally rises; consequently the foundations have hitherto been found entirely defective. The external wall gave way during the time it was building; two towers have already been taken down to prevent their falling; and two more are in a precarious state. Large external cracks are every where visible, and internally the ceilings are separating. The state of the cells, the fissures in the wall, and the derangement of the pavement, seemed to us to warrant alarm, as to the permanence of the building. I mention these circumstances, because I anticipate very considerable and continual expense in its support; and this expense may be confounded with the inevitable charges of the penitentiary system; and thus a prejudice may arise against it. But it is obvious, that the system can have nothing to do with any errors as to the situation which is chosen. It surely is not necessary always to select a swamp for the site of a building, which requires above all things a dry foundation, and a free wholesome atmosphere.

Notwithstanding the uniform success and general applause which had hitherto crowned her administration, at no point perhaps of her whole reign was the path of Elizabeth more beset with perplexities and difficulties than at the commencement of the year 1567.

The prevalence of the Scottish faction had compelled her to give a pledge to her parliament respecting matrimony, which must either be redeemed by the sacrifice of her darling independence, or forfeited with the loss of her credit and popularity. Her favorite state-mystery,—the choice of a successor,—had also been invaded by rude and daring hands; and to such extremity was she reduced on this point, that she had found it necessary to empower the commissioners whom she sent into Scotland for the baptism of the prince, distinctly to propound the following offer. That on a simple ratification by Mary of only so much of the treaty of Edinburgh as engaged her to advance no claim upon the English crown during the lifetime of Elizabeth or any posterity of hers, a solemn recognition of her right of succession should be made by the queen and parliament of England.

The Scottish ministry, instead of closing instantly with so advantageous a proposal, were imprudent enough to insist upon a previous examination of the will of Henry VIII., which they fondly believed that they could show to be a forgery: and the delay which the refusal of Elizabeth occasioned, gave time for the interposition of circumstances which ruined for ever the character and authority of Mary, and rescued her sister-queen from this dilemma.

The situation of Elizabeth, amid its many difficulties, presented none so perplexing, none which the opinions of her most prudent counsellors were so much divided on the best mode of obviating, as those arising out of the doubt and confusion in which the right of succession was still involved. Her avowed repugnance to marriage, which was now feared to be insurmountable, kept the minds of men continually busy on this dangerous topic, and she was already incurring the blame of many by the backwardness which she discovered in designating a successor and causing her choice to be confirmed, as it would readily have been, by the parliament.

But this censure must be regarded as unjust. Even though the jealousy of power had found no entrance into the bosom of Elizabeth, sound policy required her long to deliberate before she formed a decision, and perhaps, whatever that decision might be, forbade her, under present circumstances, to announce it to the world.

The title of the queen of Scots, otherwise unquestionable, was barred by the will of Henry VIII., ratified by an unrepealed act of parliament, and nothing less solemn than a fresh act of the whole legislature would have been sufficient to render it perfectly free from objection: and could Elizabeth be in reason expected to take such a step in behalf of a foreign and rival sovereign, professing a religion hostile to her own and that of her people; of one, above all, who had openly pretended a right to the crown preferable to her own, and who was even now exhausting the whole art of intrigue to undermine and supplant her?

It was to little purpose that the protector had stained his hands with the blood of his brother, for the exemption thus purchased from one kind of fear or danger, was attended by a degree of public odium which could not fail to render feeble and tottering an authority based, like his, on plain and open usurpation.

Other causes conspired to undermine his credit and prepare his overthrow. The hatred of the great nobles, which he augmented by a somewhat too ostentatious patronage of the lower classes against the rich and powerful, continually pursued and watched the opportunity to ruin him. Financial difficulties pressed upon him, occasioned in great measure by the wars with France and Scotland which he had carried on, in pursuance of Henry's design of compelling the Scotch to marry their young queen to his son. An object which had finally been frustrated, notwithstanding the vigilance of the English fleet, by the safe arrival of Mary in France, and her solemn betrothment to the dauphin. The great and glorious work of religious reformation, though followed by Somerset, under the guidance of Cranmer, with a moderation and prudence which reflect the highest honor on both, could not be brought to perfection without exciting the rancorous hostility of thousands, whom various motives and interests attached to the cause of ancient superstition; and the abolition, by authority, of the mass, and the destruction of images and crucifixes, had given birth to serious disturbances in different parts of the country.

We first went to the Borough Jail, which is a wooden building.

A girl was confined in the day-room, the window at which she sits, opens to the street, with which it is nearly on a level. We, standing in the street, conversed with her, and the bars are wide enough to admit any thing, of which the bulk is not very considerable; of course spirits could not be excluded. On the Sessions day, this window is closed by a shutter, as it was found that the prisoners got drunk, and were in that state during their trial. The jailer opened a door, of what appeared to us a dark closet, assuring us that when we entered we should be able to see;–and, in fact, we could discover the dimensions by the light admitted through the crevices of a hole, which had been formerly stopped up, at the top of the room. To this day-room for men, (in which the difference between night and day is hardly discernible) the only entrance was through the women's apartment.

The bed-rooms were equally incommodious. The men and women are separated by an open railing, the bars of which are about six inches distant from each other, and the only air, or light, admitted to the men's apartment, is through this lattice. The allowance of food is one pound and a half of bread per day, and no firing is provided, in fact it would be needless, for there is no fire-place.

This prison is situated just out of the city. It was originally intended to be an octagon, but at present only five departments are finished;–still an entire separation is effected between,

It is in contemplation to finish the building, and when this takes place, there will be six additional subdivisions. For each of the above description of prisoners, an open court is provided, in which they have their daily exercise.

First we saw the untried, and those who have appealed against their sentences. There is nothing peculiar in their treatment. They do not work, and no instruction is afforded to them.

We next visited the tried. Their beds are in small recesses, from a gallery opening to the court. Each has a separate sleeping cell, which is furnished with a metal bedstead, a thick mattress, a double sheet, a double and single blanket, and a pillow. The bedding is brought out to be aired in fine weather, and the doors are open all day. The rooms were perfectly sweet and clean.

The major part of the prisoners of the same class work together, in rooms 170 feet long and 26 broad. The principal employment is weaving calico, damask, and sacking cloth, but there are shops for sawyers, carpenters, blacksmiths, &c.

In the parliament which met in January 1559, two matters personally interesting to the queen were agitated; her title to the crown, and her marriage; and both were disposed of in a manner calculated to afford a just presage of the maxims by which the whole tenor of her future life and reign was to be guided. By the eminently prudent and judicious counsels of sir Nicholas Bacon keeper of the seals, she omitted to require of parliament the repeal of those acts of her father's reign which had declared his marriage with her mother null, and herself illegitimate; and reposing on the acknowledged maxim of law, that the crown once worn takes away all defects in blood, she contented herself with an act declaratory in general terms of her right of succession. Thus the whole perplexing subject of her mother's character and conduct was consigned to an oblivion equally safe and decent; and the memory of her father, which, in spite of all his acts of violence and injustice, was popular in the nation and respected by herself, was saved from the stigma which the vindication of Anne Boleyn must have impressed indelibly upon it.

On the other topic she explained herself with an earnest sincerity which might have freed her from all further importunity in any concern less interesting to the wishes of her people. To a deputation from the house of commons with an address, “the special matter whereof was to move her grace to marriage,” after a gracious reception, she delivered an answer in which the following passages are remarkable.

It is well deserving of remark, that the strongest and most extraordinary act of the whole administration of Elizabeth,—that which brought the blood of a sisterqueen upon her head and indelible reproach upon her memory,—appears to have been productive of scarcely any assignable political effect. It changed her relations with no foreign power, it altered very little the state of parties at home, it recommended no new adviser to her favor, it occasioned the displacement of Davison alone.

She may appear, it is true, to have obtained by this stroke an immunity from that long series of dark conspiracies by which, during so many years, she had been disquieted and endangered. To deliver the queen of Scots was an object for which many men had been willing to risk their lives; but none were found desperate or chivalrous enough to run the same hazard in order to avenge her. But the recent detection of Babington and his associates, and the rigorous justice executed upon them, was likely, even without the death of Mary, to have deterred from the speedy repetition of similar practices; and a crisis was now approaching fitted to suspend the machinations of faction, to check the operation even of religious bigotry, and to unite all hearts in the love, all hands in the protection, of their native soil.

The death in September 1598 of Philip II., and the succession of the feeble Philip III., under whom the Spanish monarchy advanced with accelerated steps towards its decline, had finally released the queen from all apprehensions of foreign invasion and left her at liberty to turn her whole attention to the pacification of Ireland. The state of that island was in every respect deplorable:—the whole province of Ulster in open rebellion under Tyrone;—the rest of the country only waiting for the succours from the pope and the king of Spain, which the credulous natives were still taught to expect, to join openly in the revolt; and in the meantime reduced to such a state of despair by innumerable oppressions and by the rumor of further severities meditated by the queen of England, that it seemed prepared to oppose the most obstinate resistance to every measure of government. In what manner and by whom, this wretched province should be brought back to its allegiance, had been the subject of frequent and earnest debates in the privy-council; in which Essex had vehemently reprobated the conduct of former governors in wasting time on inferior objects, instead of first undertaking the reduction of Tyrone, and appears to have spared no pains to impress the queen with an opinion of the superior justness of his own views of the subject.

Being at Ghent during the early part of this winter, I took some pains in examining the excellent prison of that city, known by the name of the Maison de Force. On my return to England, I communicated to the “Society for the Improvement of Prison Discipline, and for the reformation of juvenile offenders,” the intelligence which was thus acquired. The members of that institution had accurately investigated the state of almost every jail in the metropolis and its vicinity. Their inquiries had led them to a decided and unanimous conviction, that the present alarming increase of crime arose more from the want of instruction, classification, regular employment, and inspection in Jails, than from any other cause, and that its prevention could only be accomplished, by an entire change in the system of prison discipline. These views were strongly confirmed by the practical illustration afforded by the Maison de Force, and this led to a request from the Committee, that the description of it might be published.

When I sat down to this task, the work insensibly grew upon my hands. It was necessary, to prove that evils and grievances did really exist in this country, and to bring home to these causes, the increase of corruption and depravity. For this purpose repeated visits to various prisons were requisite.

Again a detail of the regulations of the Maison de Force alone, did not seem to establish the point contended for, with sufficient certainty.

This prison belongs to the city of London, and its jurisdiction extends over five parishes.–On entrance, you come to the male felons' ward and yard, in which are both the tried and the untried–those in chains and those without them–boys and men, –persons for petty offences, and for the most atrocious felonies; for simple assault, for being disorderly, for small thefts, for issuing bad notes, for forgery and for robbery. They were employed in some kind of gaming, and they said they had nothing else to do. A respectable looking man, a smith, who had never been in prison before, told me that “the conversation always going on, was sufficient to corrupt any body, that he had learned things there, that he never dreamed of before.”

You next enter a yard nineteen feet square; this is the only airing place for male debtors and vagrants, female debtors, prostitutes, misdemeanants and criminals, and for their children and friends There have been as many as thirty women; we saw thirty-eight debtors, and Mr. Law, the Governor, stated, when he was examined, that there might be about twenty children.

On my first visit, the debtors were all collected together up stairs. This was their day-room, bed-room, workshop, kitchen, and chapel.

From the intrigues and violences of crafty politicians and discontented nobles, we shall now turn to trace the prosperous and honorable career of a private English merchant, whose abilities and integrity introduced him to the notice of his sovereign, and whose patriotic munificence still preserves to him the respect ful remembrance of posterity. This merchant was Thomas Gresham. Born of a family at once enlightened, wealthy and commercial, he had shared the advantage of an education at the university of Cambridge previously to his entrance on the walk of life to which he was destined, and which, fortunately for himself, his superior acquirements did not tempt him to desert or to despise.

His father, sir Richard Gresham, had been agent to Henry VIII. for the negotiation of loans with the merchants of Antwerp, and in 1552 he himself was nominated to act in a similar capacity to Edward VI., when he was eminently serviceable in redeeming the credit of the king, sunk to the lowest ebb by the mismanagement of his father's immediate successor in the agency. Under Elizabeth he enjoyed the same appointment, to which was added that of queen's merchant; and it appears by the official letters of the time, that political as well as pecuniary affairs were often intrusted to his discreet and able management. He was also a spirited promoter of the infant manufactures of his country, several of which owed to him their first establishment.

In the month of December 1542, shortly after the rout of Solway, in which the English made prisoners the flower of the Scottish nobility, the same messenger brought to Henry VIII. the tidings that the grief and shame of this defeat had broken the heart of king James V., and that his queen had brought into the world a daughter, who had received the name of Mary, and was now queen of Scotland. Without stopping to deplore the melancholy fate of a nephew whom he had himself brought to destruction, Henry instantly formed the project of uniting the whole island under one crown, by the marriage of this infant sovereign with the prince his son. All the Scottish prisoners of rank then in London were immediately offered the liberty of returning to their own country on the condition, to which they acceded with apparent alacrity, of promoting this union with all their interest; and so confident was the English monarch in the success of his measures, that previously to their departure, several of them were carried to the palace of Enfield, where young Edward then resided, that they might tender homage to the future husband of their queen.

The regency of Scotland at this critical juncture was claimed by the earl of Arran, who was generally regarded as next heir to the crown, though his legitimacy had been disputed; and to this nobleman,—but whether for himself or his son seems doubtful,—Henry, as a further means of securing the important object which he had at heart, offered the hand of his daughter Elizabeth.

The conduct of Elizabeth during the late alarming crisis, earned for her from Mary, during the first days of her reign, some demonstration of sisterly affection. She caused her to bear her company in her public entry into London; kindly detained her for a time near her own person; and seemed to have consigned for ever to an equitable oblivion all the mortifications and heartburnings of which the child of Anne Boleyn had been the innocent occasion to her in times past, and under circumstances which could never more return.

In the splendid procession which attended her majesty from the Tower to Whitehall previously to her coronation on October 1st 1553, the royal chariot, sumptuously covered with cloth of tissue and drawn by six horses with trappings of the same material, was immediately followed by another, likewise drawn by six horses and covered with cloth of silver, in which sat the princess Elizabeth and the lady Anne of Cleves, who took place in this ceremony as the adopted sister of Henry VIII.

But notwithstanding these fair appearances, the rancorous feelings of Mary's heart with respect to her sister were only repressed or disguised, not eradicated; and it was not long before a new subject of jealousy caused them to revive in all their pristine energy.

Amongst the state prisoners committed to the Tower by Henry VIII., whose liberation his executors had resisted during the whole reign of Edward, but whom it was Mary's first act of royalty to release and reinstate in their offices or honors, was Edward Courtney, son of the unfortunate marquis of Exeter.

There was no part of the regal office the exercise of which appeared so likely to expose Elizabeth to invidious reflections, as that which comprehended the management of ecclesiastical affairs. Few divines, though protestant, could behold without a certain feeling of mingled jealousy and disdain, a female placed at the head of the religion of the country, and by the whole papal party such a supremacy was regarded perhaps as the most horrible, certainly as the most preposterous, of all the prodigies which heresy had yet brought forth. “I have seen the head of the English church dancing!” exclaimed, it is said, with a sarcastic air, an ambassador from one of the catholic courts of Europe.

A more striking incongruity indeed could scarcely be imagined, than between the winning manners and sprightly disposition of this youthful princess, as they displayed themselves amid the festivities of her court and the homage of her suitors, and the grave and awful character of Governess of the church, with which she had been solemnly invested.

In virtue of this office, it was the right and duty of the queen to choose a religion for the country; to ordain its rites and ceremonies, discipline, and form of church government; and to fix the rank, offices and emoluments of its ministers. She was also to exercise this power entirely at her own discretion, free from the control of parliament or the interference of the clerical body, and assisted only by such commissioners, lay or ecclesiastical, as it should please herself to appoint.

Notwithstanding the late fortunate change in her situation, Elizabeth must have entertained an anxious sense of its remaining difficulties, if not dangers; and the prudent circumspection of her character again, as in the latter years of her brother, dictated the expediency of shrouding herself in all the obscurity compatible with her rank and expectations. To literature, the never failing resource of its votaries, she turned again for solace and occupation; and claiming the assistance which Ascham was proud and happy to afford her, she resumed the diligent perusal of the Greek and Latin classics.

The concerns of the college of which sir Thomas Pope was the founder likewise engaged a portion of her thoughts; and this gentleman, in a letter to a friend, mentions that the lady Elizabeth, whom he served, and who was “not only gracious but right learned,” often asked him of the course which he had devised for his scholars.

Classical literature was now daily declining from the eminence on which the two preceding sovereigns had labored to place it. The destruction of monastic institutions, and the dispersion of libraries, with the impoverishment of public schools and colleges through the rapacity of Edward's courtiers, had inflicted far deeper injury on the cause of learning than the studious example of the young monarch and his chosen companions was able to compensate.