in competition with its own ambition; but the Roman history is a history without fathers and brothers!  Another of the conspirators replied, “For flying away with my friend I fulfilled the part of a friend.”  When the judge observed, that, to perform his friendship he had broken his allegiance to his sovereign, he bowed his head and confessed, “Therein I have offended.”  Another, asked why he had fled into the woods, where he was discovered among some of the conspirators, proudly (or tenderly) replied, “For company!”

When the sentence of condemnation had passed, then broke forth among this noble band that spirit of honour, which surely had never been witnessed at the bar among so many criminals.  Their great minds seemed to have reconciled them to the most barbarous of deaths; but as their estates as traitors might be forfeited to the queen, their sole anxiety was now for their families and their creditors.  One in the most pathetic terms recommends to her majesty’s protection a beloved wife; another a destitute sister; but not among the least urgent of their supplications, was one that their creditors might not be injured by their untimely end.  The statement of their affairs is curious and simple.  “If mercy be not to be had,” exclaimed one, “I beseech you, my good lords, this; I owe some sums of money, but not very much, and I have more owing to me; I beseech that my debts may be paid with that which is owing to me.”  Another prayed for a pardon; the judge complimented him, that “he was one who might have done good service to his country,” but declares he cannot obtain it.—­“Then,” said the prisoner, “I beseech that six angels, which such an one hath of mine, may be delivered to my brother to pay my debts.”—­“How much are thy debts?” demanded the judge.  He answered, “The same six angels will discharge it.”

That nothing might be wanting to complete the catastrophe of their sad story, our sympathy must accompany them to their tragical end, and to their last words.  These heroic yet affectionate youths had a trial there, intolerable to their social feelings.  The terrific process of executing traitors was the remains of feudal barbarism, and has only been abolished very recently.  I must not refrain from painting this scene of blood; the duty of an historian must be severer than his taste, and I record in the note a scene of this nature.[78] The present one was full of horrors.  Ballard was first executed, and snatched alive from the gallows to be embowelled:  Babington looked on with an undaunted countenance, steadily gazing on that variety of tortures which he himself was in a moment to pass through; the others averted their faces, fervently praying.  When the executioner began his tremendous office on Babington, the spirit of this haughty and heroic man cried out amidst the agony, Parce mihi, Domine Jesu! Spare me, Lord Jesus!  There were two days of execution; it was on the first that the noblest of these youths suffered; and the pity which such criminals had excited among the spectators evidently weakened the sense of their political crime; the solemnity, not the barbarity, of the punishment affects the populace with right feelings.  Elizabeth, an enlightened politician, commanded that on the second day the odious part of the sentence against traitors should not commence till after their death.