It has been ascertained by his own writings, that the Jesuit Parsons, who had obtained free access to the presence of the Spanish monarch left Madrid in 1585, about the time when the preparations for the Armada began, and returned to Madrid in 1589, the year after its destruction; so that the English Jesuit, whose sanguine views had aided the inspiration, had also the fortitude to console and to assure the Spanish monarch that "the punishment of England had only been deferred." Of this secret intercourse with the court of Madrid we have the express avowal of the English cardinal, Allen, in that infuriated "Admonition to the nobility and people of England," the precursor of the Armada; in which this Italianated Englishman, contrary to those habits and that language of amenity to which he had been accustomed, suddenly dropped the veil, and, at the command of his sacerdotal suzerain, raged against Elizabeth more furiously than had the Mar-prelate Knox.

In the year 1580, PARSONS and CAMPIAN came the first Jesuit missionaries to their native soil. Camden was acquainted with both these personages at college. The contrast of their personal dispositions might have occasioned their selection; for the chiefs of this noted order not only exercised a refined discernment in the psychology of their brothers and agents, but always acted on an ambidextrous policy. Campian, with amenity of manners and sweetness of elocution, with a taste imbued with literature, was adapted to win the affections of those whom Parsons sometimes terrified by his hardihood. They landed in England at different ports; and, though at first separated, subsequently they sometimes met. They travelled under a variety of disguises, sure of concealment in the priests' secret chamber of many a mansion, or they haunted unfrequented paths. A tradition in the Stonor family still points at a tangled dell in the park where Campian

wrote his Decem Rationes, and had his books and his food conveyed to him.

We have an interesting account of the perilous position which he occupied; his devoted spirit, not to be subdued by despair, but tinged with the softest melancholy, is disclosed in a letter to the general of the order. He tells him that he is obliged to assume a most antic dress, which he often changes as well as his name; but his studious habits were not interrupted amid this scene of trouble; he says, "Every day I ride about the country. Sitting on my horse, I meditate a short sermon, which coming into the house I more perfectly polish. Afterward, if any come to me I discourse with them, to which they bring thirsty ears." But notwithstanding that most threatening edicts were dispersed against them, he says, that "by wariness and the prayers of good people, we have in safety gone over a great part of the island. I see many forgetting themselves to be careful for us." He concludes: "We cannot long escape the hands of heretics, so many are the eyes, the tongues, and treacheries of our enemies. Just now I read a letter where was written Campian is taken.' This old song now so rings in mine ears wheresoever I come, that very fear hath driven all fear from me; my life is always in my hand. Let them that shall be sent hither for our supply bring this along with them, well thought on beforehand."

Our Jesuits in some respects betrayed themselves by their zeal in addressing the nation through their own publications. Parsons, under the lugubrious designation of John Howlet, that is, Owlet, sent forth his "screechings;" and Campian, too confident of his irrefutable "Decem Rationes," was so imprudent as to publish "A Challenge for a Public Disputation" in the presence of the queen. The eye of Walsingham opened on their suspected presence. A Roman catholic servant unwittingly betrayed Campian, who suffered as VOL. II.-7.

a state victim.* ing, and vanished! This able Jesuit was confident that the great scheme was to be realised by means more effective than the martyrdom of young priests. His awful pen was to change public opinion, and nearly forty works attest his diligence, while he mused on other resources than the pen to overturn the kingdom.

Parsons saw his own doom approach

The history of the order records that, thirty years. afterward, Father Parsons, lying on his deathbed, ordered to be brought to him the cords which had served as the instruments of torture of his martyred friend, and, having kissed them fervently, bound round his body these sad memorials of the saintly Campian.t

Two of the numerous writings ascribed to Parsons, one before the Armada and the other subsequent to it, are remarkably connected with our national history; the ability of the writer, and the boldness of the topics, have at various periods influenced public opinion and national events. The first, "A Dialogue between a Scholar, a Gentleman, and a Lawyer," was printed abroad in 1583 or 1584, and soon found a conveyance into England. The first edition was distinguished as “Father Parsons' Green Coat," from its green cover. It is now better known as "Leicester's Commonwealth," a title drawn from one of its sarcastic phrases.

To describe this political libel as a mere invective, would convey but an imperfect notion of its singularity. The occasion which levelled this artful and elaborate scandalous chronicle at Leicester, and at Leicester alone, remains as unknown as this circumstantial narrative descends to us unauthenticated and unrefuted.

* As Roman catholics usually interpolate history with miracles, so we find one here; being assured that the judge, while passing sentence on Campian, drawing off his glove, found his hand stained with blood, which he could not wash away, as he showed to several about him who can witness of it.-Landsdowne MSS., 982, fo. 21.

Hist. Soc. Jesu. Pars quinta, Tomus posterior. Auctore Jos. Juven cio, 1710.

That the whole was framed by inventing is as incredi ble as that the favorite of Elizabeth during thirty years could possibly have kept his equal tenor throughout such a criminal career, beside not a few atrocities which were prevented by intervening accidents with which the writer seems equally conversant as with those perpetrated. The mysterious marriages of Leicester- his first lady found at the foot of the stairs with her neck broken, but "without hurting the hood on her head"-husbands dying quickly- - solemnized marriages reduced to contracts are remarkable accidents. We find strange persons in the earl's household; Salvador, the Italian chymist, a confidential counsellor, supposed to have departed from this world with many secrets, succeeded by Dr. Julio, who risked the promotion. We are told of the lady who had lost her hair and her nails-of the exquisite salad which Leicester left on the supper-table when called away, which Sir Nicholas Throgmorton swore had ended his life of the Cardinal Chatillon, who, after having been closeted with the queen, returning to France, never got beyond Canterbury of the sending a casuist with a case of conscience to Walsingham, to satisfy that statesman of the moral expediency of ridding the state of the Queen of Scots by an Italian philtre an Italian philtre - all these incidents almost induce one to imagine the existence of an English Borgia, full length drawn by the hand of a Machiavel.

If this strange history were true, it would not be wanting in a moral; for if Leicester were himself this poisoner, there seems some reason to believe that the poisoner himself was poisoned. "The beast," as Throgmorton called this earl, found but a frail countess in the Lady Lettice, whose first husband, the Earl of Essex, had suddenly expired. The master of the horse had fired her passion-a hired bravo, in cleaving his scull, did not succeed in despatching the wounded lover where the blow came from they did not doubt.

Leicester was conducting his countess to Kenilworth ; stopping at Cornbury Hall, in Oxfordshire, the lady was possibly reminded of the tale of Cumnor Hall. To Leicester, after his usual excessive indulgence at table, the countess deemed it necessary to administer a cordial - it was his last draught! Such is the revelation of the page and latterly the gentleman of this earl. Certain it is that Leicester was suddenly seized with fever, and died on his way to Kenilworth, and that the master of the horse shortly after married the poisoning countess of the great poisoner.*

Had the writer unskilfully heaped together such atrocious acts, or such ambiguous tales, the libel had not endured; the life of this new Borgia is composed of richer materials than extravagant crimes. It furnishes a picture of eventful days and busied personages; truth and fiction brightening and shadowing each other. Some close observer in the court circle, one who sickened at the queen's insolent favorite, was a malicious correspondent. Some realities lie on the surface; and Sir Philip Sidney was baffled, or confounded, when he would have sent forth his chivalric challenge to the veiled accuser.

The adversaries of the Jesuits referred to Busenbaum, a favorite author with the order, to inform the world that among the artifices of the political brotherhood was inculcated the doctrine of systematic calumny. "Whenever you would ruin a person or a government, you must begin by spreading calumnies to defame them. Many will incline to believe or to side with the propagator. Repetition and perseverance

* This remarkable incident, in keeping with the rest, was discovered by Dr. Bliss in a manuscript note on "Leicester's Ghost," as communicated by the page to the writer from his own personal observations.Athena Oxon., ii. col. 74.

If this voracious Apicius did not die of a surfeit, the fever might have been caught from the cordial. The marriage of the master of the horse seems to wind up the story.