his criminal negotiations with Tyrone,
by an atrocious plot for entering the palace, seizing the person of the
queen and compelling her to sign a warrant for the release of the two
earls, renewed her fears and gave fresh force to her anger. Irresolute
for some days, she once countermanded by a special messenger the order
for the death of Essex; then, as repenting of her weakness, she signed a
second warrant, in obedience to which he was finally, on February 25th,
brought to the scaffold.
The last scene was performed in a manner correspondent in all respects
to the contrite and humiliated frame of mind to which the noble culprit
had been wrought. It was no longer the brave, the gallant, the haughty
earl of Essex, the favorite of the queen, the admiration of the ladies,
the darling of the soldiery, the idol of the people;--no longer even the
undaunted prisoner, pouring forth invectives against his enemies in
answer to the charges against himself; loudly persisting in the
innocence of his intentions, instead of imploring mercy for his actions,
and defending his honor while he asserted a lofty indifference to
life;--it was a meek and penitent offender, profoundly sensible of all
his past transgressions, but taught to expect their remission in the
world to which he was hastening, through the fervency of his prayers and
the plenitude of his confessions; and prepared, as his latest act, to
perform in public a solemn religious service, composed for his use by
the assistant clergy, whose directions he obeyed with the most
scrupulous minuteness. Under a change so entire, even his native
eloquence had forsaken him. Sir Robert Cecil, who seems to have been a
cool and critical spectator of the fatal scene, remarks to his
correspondent that "the conflict between the flesh and the soul did thus
far appear, that in his prayers he was fain to be helped; otherwise no
man living could pray more christianly than he did."
Essex had requested of the queen that he might be put to death in a
private manner within the walls of the Tower, fearing, as he told the
divines who attended him, that "the acclamations of the citizens should
have hoven him up." His desire in this point was willingly complied
with; but about a hundred nobles, knights and gentlemen witnessed the
transaction from seats placed near the scaffold. Sir Walter Raleigh
chose to station himself at a window of the armory whence he could see
all without being observed by the ear
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