The History of England, Volume IV Elizabeth Essex returns to England
by David Hume
Essex heard at once of Elizabeth’s anger, and of the promotion of his enemy, Sir Robert Cecil, to the office of master of the wards, an office to which he himself aspired: And dreading, that, if he remained any longer absent, the queen would be totally alienated from him, he hastily embraced a resolution, which, he knew, had once succeeded with the earl of Leicester, the former favourite of Elizabeth. Leicester, being informed, while in the Low Countries, that his mistress was extremely displeased with his conduct, disobeyed her orders by coming over to England; and having pacified her by his presence, by his apologies, and by his flattery and insinuation, disappointed all the expectations of his enemies.l Essex, therefore, weighing more the similarity of circumstances than the difference of character between himself and Leicester, immediately set out for England; and making speedy journeys, he arrived at court before any one was in the least apprized of his intentions.m Though besmeared with dirt and sweat, he hastened up stairs to the presence chamber, thence to the privy chamber; nor stopped till he was in the queen’s bed-chamber, who was newly risen, and was sitting with her hair about her face. He threw himself on his knees, kissed her hand, and had some private conference with her; where he was so graciously received, that, on his departure, he was heard to express great satisfaction, and to thank God, that, though he had suffered much trouble and many storms abroad, he found a sweet calm at home.n
But this placability of Elizabeth was merely the result of her surprise, and of the momentary satisfaction, which she felt on the sudden and unexpected appearance of her favourite: After she had leisure for recollection, all his faults recurred to her; and she thought it necessary, by some severe discipline, to subdue that haughty imperious spirit, who, presuming on her partiality, had pretended to domineer in her councils, to engross all her favour, and to act, in the most important affairs, without regard to her orders and instructions. [Is disgraced.] When Essex waited on her in the afternoon, he found her extremely altered in her carriage towards him: She ordered him to be confined to his chamber; to be twice examined by the council; and though his answers were calm and submissive, she committed him to the custody of lord keeper Egerton, and held him sequestered from all company, even from that of his countess, nor was so much as the intercourse of letters permitted between them. Essex dropped many expressions of humiliation and sorrow, none of resentment: He professed an entire submission to the queen’s will: Declared his intention of retiring into the country, and of leading thenceforth a private life, remote from courts and business: But though he affected to be so entirely cured of his aspiring ambition, the vexation of this disappointment, and of the triumph gained by his enemies, preyed upon his haughty spirit, and he fell into a distemper, which seemed to put his life in danger.
The queen had always declared to all the world, and even to the earl himself, that the purpose of her severity was to correct, not to ruin him;o and when she heard of his sickness, she was not a little alarmed with his situation. She ordered eight physicians of the best reputation and experience to consult of his case; and being informed, that the issue was much to be apprehended, she sent Dr. James to him with some broth, and desired that physician to deliver him a message, which she probably deemed of still greater virtue; that, if she thought such a step consistent with her honour, she would herself pay him a visit. The bystanders, who carefully observed her countenance, remarked, that, in pronouncing these words, her eyes were suffused with tears.p
When these symptoms of the queen’s returning affection towards Essex were known, they gave a sensible alarm to the faction, which had declared their opposition to him. Sir Walter Raleigh, in particular, the most violent as well as the most ambitious of his enemies, was so affected with the appearance of this sudden revolution, that he was seized with sickness in his turn; and the queen was obliged to apply the same salve to his wound, and to send him a favourable message, expressing her desire of his recovery.q
[1600.] The medicine, which the queen administered to these aspiring rivals, was successful with both; and Essex, being now allowed the company of his countess, and having entertained more promising hopes of his future fortunes, was so much restored in his health, as to be thought past danger. A belief was instilled into Elizabeth, that his distemper had been entirely counterfeit, in order to move her compassion;r and she relapsed into her former rigour against him. He wrote her a letter, and sent her a rich present on New-Year’s day; as was usual with the courtiers at that time: She read the letter, but rejected the present.s After some interval, however, of severity, she allowed him to retire to his own house: And though he remained still under custody, and was sequestered from all company, he was so grateful for this mark of lenity, that he sent her a letter of thanks on the occasion. "This farther degree of goodness," said he, "doth sound in my ears, as if your majesty spake these words, Die not, Essex; for though I punish thine offence, and humble thee for thy good, yet will I one day be served again by thee. My prostrate soul makes this answer: I hope for that blessed day. And in expectation of it, all my afflictions of body and mind are humbly, patiently, and chearfully borne by me."t The countess of Essex, daughter of Sir Francis Walsingham, possessed, as well as her husband, a refined taste in literature; and the chief consolation which Essex enjoyed, during this period of anxiety and expectation, consisted in her company, and in reading with her those instructive and entertaining authors, which, even during the time of his greatest prosperity, he had never entirely neglected.
There were several incidents, which kept alive the queen’s anger against Essex. Every account which she received from Ireland, convinced her more and more of his misconduct in that government, and of the insignificant purposes, to which he had employed so much force and treasure. Tyrone, so far from being quelled, had thought proper, in less than three months, to break the truce; and joining with O’Donel, and other rebels, had over-run almost the whole kingdom. He boasted, that he was certain of receiving a supply of men, money, and arms from Spain: He pretended to be champion of the catholic religion: And he openly exulted in the present of a phoenix plume, which the pope, Clement VIII. in order to encourage him in the prosecution of so good a cause, had consecrated, and had conferred upon him.u The queen, that she might check his progress, returned to her former intention, of appointing Mountjoy lord-deputy; and though that nobleman, who was an intimate friend of Essex, and desired his return to the government of Ireland, did at first very earnestly excuse himself, on account of his bad state of health, she obliged him to accept of the employment. Mountjoy found the island almost in a desperate condition; but being a man of capacity and vigour, he was so little discouraged, that he immediately advanced against Tyrone in Ulster. He penetrated into the heart of that country, the chief seat of the rebels: He fortified Derry and Mount-Norris, in order to bridle the Irish: He chaced them from the field, and obliged them to take shelter in the woods and morasses: He employed, with equal success, Sir George Carew in Munster: And by these promising enterprizes, he gave new life to the queen’s authority in that island.
As the comparison of Mountjoy’s administration with that of Essex, contributed to alienate Elizabeth from her favourite, she received additional disgust from the partiality of the people, who, prepossessed with an extravagant idea of Essex’s merit, complained of the injustice done him by his removal from court, and by his confinement. Libels were secretly dispersed against Cecil and Raleigh, and all his enemies: And his popularity, which was always great, seemed rather to be encreased than diminished by his misfortunes. Elizabeth, in order to justify to the public her conduct with regard to him, had often expressed her intentions of having him tried in the Star-chamber for his offences: But her tenderness for him prevailed at last over her severity; and she was contented to have him only examined by the privy-council. The attorney-general, Coke, opened the cause against him, and treated him with the cruelty and insolence, which that great lawyer usually exercised against the unfortunate. He displayed in the strongest colours, all the faults committed by Essex in his administration of Ireland: His making Southampton general of the horse, contrary to the queen’s injunctions; his deserting the enterprize against Tyrone, and marching to Leinster and Munster; his conferring knighthood on too many persons; his secret conference with Tyrone; and his sudden return from Ireland, in contempt of her majesty’s commands. He also exaggerated the indignity of the conditions, which Tyrone had been allowed to propose; odious and abominable conditions, said he; a public toleration of an idolatrous religion, pardon for himself and every traitor in Ireland, and full restitution of lands and possessions to all of them.w The solicitor-general, Fleming, insisted upon the wretched situation, in which the earl had left that kingdom; and Francis, son of Sir Nicholas Bacon, who had been lord-keeper in the beginning of the present reign, closed the charge with displaying the undutiful expressions contained in some letters written by the earl.
Essex, when he came to plead in his own defence, renounced, with great submission and humility, all pretensions to an apology;x and declared his resolution never, on this or any other occasion, to have any contest with his sovereign. He said, that, having severed himself from the world, and abjured all sentiments of ambition, he had no scruple to confess every failing or error, into which his youth, folly, or manifold infirmities might have betrayed him; that his inward sorrow for his offences against her majesty was so profound, that it exceeded all his outward crosses and afflictions, nor had he any scruple of submitting to a public confession of whatever she had been pleased to impute to him; that, in his acknowledgments, he retained only one reserve, which he never would relinquish but with his life, the assertion of a loyal and unpolluted heart, of an unfeigned affection, of an earnest desire ever to perform to her majesty the best service which his poor abilities would permit; and that, if this sentiment were allowed by the council, he willingly acquiesced in any condemnation or sentence which they could pronounce against him. This submission was uttered with so much eloquence, and in so pathetic a manner, that it drew tears from many of the audience.y All the privy-counsellors, in giving their judgment, made no scruple of doing the earl justice, with regard to the loyalty of his intentions. Even Cecil, whom he believed his capital enemy, treated him with regard and humanity. And the sentence pronounced by the Lord keeper, (to which the council assented) was in these words. "If this cause," said he, "had been heard in the Star-Chamber, my sentence must have been for as great a fine as ever was set upon any man’s head in that court, together with perpetual confinement in that prison, which belongeth to a man of his quality, the Tower. But since we are now in another place, and in a course of favour, my censure is, that the earl of Essex is not to execute the office of a counsellor, nor that of earl marshal of England, nor of master of the ordnance; and to return to his own house, there to continue a prisoner, till it shall please her majesty to release this and all the rest of his sentence."z The earl of Cumberland made a slight opposition to this sentence; and said, that, if he thought it would stand, he would have required a little more time to deliberate; that he deemed it somewhat severe; and that any commander in chief might easily incur a like penalty. But, however, added he, in confidence of her majesty’s mercy, I agree with the rest. The earl of Worcester delivered his opinion in a couple of Latin verses; importing, that, where the Gods are offended, even misfortunes ought to be imputed as crimes, and that accident is no excuse for transgressions against the Divinity.
Bacon, so much distinguished afterwards by his high offices, and still more by his profound genius for the sciences, was nearly allied to the Cecil family, being nephew to lord Burleigh, and cousin-german to the secretary: But notwithstanding his extraordinary talents, he had met with so little protection from his powerful relations, that he had not yet obtained any preferment in the law, which was his profession. But Essex, who could distinguish merit, and who passionately loved it, had entered into an intimate friendship with Bacon; had zealously attempted, though without success, to procure him the office of solicitor-general; and in order to comfort his friend under the disappointment, had conferred on him a present of land to the value of eighteen hundred pounds.a The public could ill excuse Bacon’s appearance before the council, against so munificent a benefactor; though he acted in obedience to the queen’s commands: But she was so well pleased with his behaviour, that she imposed on him a new task, of drawing a narrative of that day’s proceedings, in order to satisfy the public of the justice and lenity of her conduct. Bacon, who wanted firmness of character, more than humanity, gave to the whole transaction the most favourable turn for Essex; and, in particular, painted out, in elaborate expression, the dutiful submission, which that nobleman discovered in the defence that he made for his conduct. When he read the paper to her, she smiled at that passage, and observed to Bacon, that old love, she saw, could not easily be forgotten. He replied, that he hoped she meant that of herself.b
All the world, indeed, expected, that Essex would soon be reinstated in his former credit;c perhaps, as is usual in reconcilements founded on inclination, would acquire an additional ascendant over the queen, and after all his disgraces, would again appear more a favourite than ever. They were confirmed in this hope, when they saw, that, though he was still prohibited from appearing at court,d he was continued in his office of master of horse, and was restored to his liberty, and that all his friends had access to him. Essex himself seemed determined to persevere in that conduct, which had hitherto been so successful, and which the queen, by all this discipline, had endeavoured to render habitual to him: He wrote to her, that he kissed her majesty’s hands, and the rod with which she had corrected him; but that he could never recover his wonted chearfulness, till she deigned to admit him to that presence, which had ever been the chief source of his happiness and enjoyment: And that he had now resolved to make amends for his past errors, to retire into a country solitude, and say with Nebuchadnezzar, "Let my dwelling be with the beasts of the field; let me eat grass as an ox, and be wet with the dew of heaven; till it shall please the queen to restore me to my understanding." The queen was much pleased with these sentiments, and replied, that she heartily wished his actions might correspond with his expressions; that he had tried her patience a long time, and it was but fitting she should now make some experiment of his submission; that her father would never have pardoned so much obstinacy; but that, if the furnace of affliction produced such good effects, she should ever after have the better opinion of her chemistry.e
The earl of Essex possessed a monopoly of sweet wines; and as his patent was near expiring, he patiently expected that the queen would renew it, and he considered this event as the critical circumstance of his life, which would determine whether he could ever hope to be reinstated in credit and authority.f But Elizabeth, though gracious in her deportment, was of a temper somewhat haughty and severe; and being continually surrounded with Essex’s enemies, means were found to persuade her, that his lofty spirit was not yet sufficiently subdued, and that he must undergo this farther trial, before he could again be safely received into favour. She therefore denied his request; and even added, in a contemptuous stile, that an ungovernable beast must be stinted in his provender.g
[His intrigues.] This rigour, pushed one step too far, proved the final ruin of this young nobleman, and was the source of infinite sorrow and vexation to the queen herself. Essex, who had with great difficulty so long subdued his proud spirit, and whose patience was now exhausted, imagining that the queen was entirely inexorable, burst at once all restraints of submission and of prudence, and determined to seek relief, by proceeding to the utmost extremities against his enemies. Even during his greatest favour he had ever been accustomed to carry matters with a high hand towards his sovereign; and as this practice gratified his own temper, and was sometimes successful, he had imprudently imagined, that it was the only proper method of managing her:h But being now reduced to despair, he gave entire reins to his violent disposition, and threw off all appearance of duty and respect. Intoxicated with the public favour, which he already possessed, he practised anew every art of popularity; and endeavoured to encrease the general good-will by a hospitable manner of life, little suited to his situation and circumstances. His former employments had given him great connections with men of the military profession; and he now entertained, by additional caresses and civilities, a friendship with all desperate adventurers, whose attachment, he hoped, might, in his present views, prove serviceable to him. He secretly courted the confidence of the catholics; but his chief trust lay in the puritans, whom he openly caressed, and whose manners he seemed to have entirely adopted. He engaged the most celebrated preachers of that sect to resort to Essex-house; he had daily prayers and sermons in his family; and he invited all the zealots in London to attend those pious exercises. Such was the disposition now beginning to prevail among the English, that, instead of feasting and public spectacles, the methods anciently practised to gain the populace, nothing so effectually ingratiated an ambitious leader with the public, as these fanatical entertainments. And as the puritanical preachers frequently inculcated in their sermons the doctrine of resistance to the civil magistrate, they prepared the minds of their hearers for those seditious projects, which Essex was secretly meditating.i
But the greatest imprudence of this nobleman proceeded from the openness of his temper, by which he was ill qualified to succeed in such difficult and dangerous enterprizes. He indulged himself in great liberties of speech, and was even heard to say of the queen, that she was now grown an old woman, and was become as crooked in her mind as in her body.k Some court ladies, whose favours Essex had formerly neglected, carried her these stories, and incensed her to a high degree against him. Elizabeth was ever remarkably jealous on this head; and though she was now approaching to her seventieth year, she allowed her courtiersl and even foreign ambassadors,m to compliment her upon her beauty; nor had all her good sense been able to cure her of this preposterous vanity.NOTE [GG]
There was also an expedient employed by Essex, which, if possible, was more provoking to the queen than those sarcasms on her age and deformity; and that was, his secret applications to the king of Scots, her heir and successor. That prince had this year very narrowly escaped a dangerous, though ill formed, conspiracy of the earl of Gowry; and even his deliverance was attended with this disagreeable circumstance, that the obstinate ecclesiastics persisted, in spite of the most incontestible evidence, to maintain to his face, that there had been no such conspiracy. James, harassed with his turbulent and factious subjects, cast a wishful eye to the succession of England; and in proportion as the queen advanced in years, his desire encreased of mounting that throne, on which, besides acquiring a great addition of power and splendor, he hoped to govern a people, so much more tractable and submissive. He negociated with all the courts of Europe, in order to ensure himself friends and partizans: He even neglected not the court of Rome and that of Spain; and though he engaged himself in no positive promise, he flattered the catholics with hopes, that, in the event of his succession, they might expect some more liberty than was at present indulged them. Elizabeth was the only sovereign in Europe to whom he never dared to mention his right of succession: He knew, that, though her advanced age might now invite her to think of fixing an heir to the crown, she never could bear the prospect of her own death without horror, and was determined still to retain him, and all other competitors, in an entire dependance upon her.
Essex was descended by females from the royal family; and some of his sanguine partizans had been so imprudent as to mention his name among those of other pretenders to the crown; but the earl took care, by means of Henry Lee, whom he secretly sent into Scotland, to assure James, that, so far from entertaining such ambitious views, he was determined to use every expedient for extorting an immediate declaration in favour of that monarch’s right of succession. James willingly hearkened to this proposal; but did not approve of the violent methods which Essex intended to employ. Essex had communicated his scheme to Mountjoy, deputy of Ireland; and as no man ever commanded more the cordial affection and attachment of his friends, he had even engaged a person of that virtue and prudence to entertain thoughts of bringing over part of his army into England, and of forcing the queen to declare the king of Scots her successor.o And such was Essex’s impatient ardour, that, though James declined this dangerous expedient, he still endeavoured to persuade Mountjoy not to desist from the project: But the deputy, who thought that such violence, though it might be prudent, and even justifiable, when supported by a sovereign prince, next heir to the crown, would be rash and criminal, if attempted by subjects, absolutely refused his concurrence. The correspondence, however, between Essex and the court of Scotland was still conducted with great secrecy and cordiality; and that nobleman, besides conciliating the favour of James, represented all his own adversaries as enemies to that prince’s succession, and as men entirely devoted to the interests of Spain, and partizans of the chimerical title of the Infanta.
The Infanta and the archduke, Albert, had made some advances to the queen for peace; and Boulogne, as a neutral town, was chosen for the place of conference. [16th May.] Sir Henry Nevil, the English resident in France, Herbert, Edmondes, and Beale, were sent thither as ambassadors from England; and negociated with Zuniga, Carillo, Richardot, and Verheiken, ministers of Spain and the archduke: But the conferences were soon broken off, by disputes with regard to the ceremonial. Among the European states England had ever been allowed the precedency above Castile, Arragon, Portugal, and the other kingdoms, of which the Spanish monarchy was composed; and Elizabeth insisted, that this ancient right was not lost on account of the junction of these states, and that that monarchy, in its present situation, though it surpassed the English in extent, as well as in power, could not be compared with it in point of antiquity, the only durable and regular foundation of precedency among kingdoms as well as noble families. That she might shew, however, a pacific disposition, she was content to yield to an equality; but the Spanish ministers, as their nation had always disputed precedency even with France, to which England yielded, would proceed no farther in the conference, till their superiority of rank were acknowledged.p During the preparations for this abortive negociation, the earl of Nottingham, the admiral, lord Buckhurst, treasurer, and secretary Cecil, had discovered their inclination to peace; but as the English nation, flushed with success, and sanguine in their hopes of plunder and conquest, were in general averse to that measure, it was easy for a person so popular as Essex, to infuse into the multitude an opinion, that these ministers had sacrificed the interests of their country to Spain, and would even make no scruple of receiving a sovereign from that hostile nation.
[1601.] But Essex, not content with these arts for decrying his adversaries, proceeded to concert more violent methods of ruining them; chiefly instigated by Cuffe, his secretary, a man of a bold and arrogant spirit, who had acquired a great ascendant over his patron. A select council of malcontents was formed, who commonly met at Drury-house, and were composed of Sir Charles Davers, to whom the house belonged, the earl of Southampton, Sir Ferdinando Gorges, Sir Christopher Blount, Sir John Davies, and John Littleton; and Essex, who boasted, that he had a hundred and twenty barons, knights, and gentlemen of note, at his devotion, and who trusted still more to his authority with the populace, communicated to his associates those secret designs with which his confidence in so powerful a party had inspired him. Among other criminal projects, the result of blind rage and despair, he deliberated with them concerning the method of taking arms; and asked their opinion whether he had best begin with seizing the palace or the Tower, or set out with making himself master at once of both places. [His insurrections.] The first enterprize being preferred, a method was concerted for executing it. It was agreed, that Sir Christopher Blount, with a choice detachment, should possess himself of the palace gates; that Davies should seize the hall, Davers, the guard-chamber, and presence-chamber; and that Essex should rush in from the Meuse, attended by a body of his partizans; should entreat the queen, with all demonstrations of humility, to remove his enemies; should oblige her to assemble a parliament; and should with common consent settle a new plan of government.q
[7th Feb.] While these desperate projects were in agitation, many reasons of suspicion were carried to the queen; and she sent Robert Sacville, son of the treasurer, to Essex-house, on pretence of a visit, but, in reality, with a view of discovering whether there were in that place any unusual concourse of people, or any extraordinary preparations, which might threaten an insurrection. Soon after, Essex received a summons to attend the council, which met at the treasurer’s house; and while he was musing on this circumstance, and comparing it with the late unexpected visit from Sacville, a private note was conveyed to him, by which he was warned to provide for his own safety. He concluded, that all his conspiracy was discovered, at least suspected; and that the easiest punishment which he had reason to apprehend, was a new and more severe confinement: He therefore excused himself to the council on pretence of an indisposition; and he immediately dispatched messages to his more intimate confederates, requesting their advice and assistance in the present critical situation of his affairs. They deliberated, whether they should abandon all their projects, and fly the kingdom; or instantly seize the palace with the force which they could assemble; or rely upon the affections of the citizens, who were generally known to have a great attachment to the earl. Essex declared against the first expedient, and professed himself determined to undergo any fate rather than submit to live the life of a fugitive. To seize the palace seemed impracticable without more preparations; especially as the queen seemed now aware of their projects, and, as they heard, had used the precaution of doubling her ordinary guards. There remained, therefore, no expedient but that of betaking themselves to the city; and while the prudence and feasibility of this resolution was under debate, a person arrived, who, as if he had received a commission for the purpose, gave them assurance of the affections of the Londoners, and affirmed, that they might securely rest any project on that foundation. The popularity of Essex had chiefly buoyed him up in all his vain undertakings; and he fondly imagined, that, with no other assistance than the good will of the multitude, he might overturn Elizabeth’s government, confirmed by time, revered for wisdom, supported by vigour, and concurring with the general sentiments of the nation. The wild project of raising the city was immediately resolved on; the execution of it was delayed till next day; and emissaries were dispatched to all Essex’s friends, informing them that Cobham and Raleigh had laid schemes against his life, and entreating their presence and assistance.
[8th Feb.] Next day, there appeared at Essex-house the earls of Southampton and Rutland, the lords Sandy and Monteagle, with about three hundred gentlemen of good quality and fortune; and Essex informed them of the danger, to which, he pretended, the machinations of his enemies exposed him. To some, he said, that he would throw himself at the queen’s feet, and crave her justice and protection: To others, he boasted of his interest in the city, and affirmed, that, whatever might happen, this resource could never fail him. The queen was informed of these designs, by means of intelligence, conveyed, as is supposed, to Raleigh, by Sir Ferdinando Gorges; and having ordered the magistrates of London to keep the citizens in readiness; she sent Egerton, lord keeper, to Essex-house, with the earl of Worcester, Sir William Knollys, controller, and Popham, chief justice, in order to learn the cause of these unusual commotions. They were with difficulty admitted through a wicket; but all their servants were excluded, except the purse-bearer. After some altercation, in which they charged Essex’s retainers, upon their allegiance, to lay down their arms, and were menaced in their turn by the angry multitude, who surrounded them, the earl, who found, that matters were past recal, resolved to leave them prisoners in his house, and to proceed to the execution of his former project. He sallied forth with about two hundred attendants, armed only with walking swords; and in his passage to the city was joined by the earl of Bedford and lord Cromwel. He cried aloud, For the queen! for the queen! a plot is laid for my life; and then proceeded to the house of Smith the sheriff, on whose aid he had great reliance. The citizens flocked about him in amazement; but though he told them, that England was sold to the Infanta, and exhorted them to arm instantly, otherwise they could not do him any service, no one showed a disposition to join him. The sheriff, on the earl’s approach to his house, stole out at the back door, and made the best of his way to the mayor. Essex, meanwhile, observing the coldness of the citizens, and hearing, that he was proclaimed a traitor by the earl of Cumberland and lord Burleigh, began to despair of success, and thought of retreating to his own house. He found the streets in his passage barricadoed and guarded by the citizens under the command of Sir John Levison. In his attempt to force his way, Tracy, a young gentleman, to whom he bore great friendship, was killed, with two or three of the Londoners; and the earl himself, attended by a few of his partizans (for the greater part began secretly to withdraw themselves) retired towards the river, and taking boat, arrived at Essex-house. He there found, that Gorges, whom he had sent before to capitulate with the lord keeper and the other counsellors, had given all of them their liberty, and had gone to court with them. He was now reduced to despair; and appeared determined, in prosecution of lord Sandys’ advice, to defend himself to the last extremity, and rather to perish, like a brave man, with his sword in his hand, than basely by the hands of the executioner: But after some parley, and after demanding in vain, first hostages, then conditions, from the besiegers, he surrendered at discretion; requesting only civil treatment, and a fair and impartial hearing.r
[19th Feb. His trial.] The queen, who, during all this commotion, had behaved with as great tranquillity and security, as if there had only passed a fray in the streets, in which she was nowise concerned,s soon gave orders for the trial of the most considerable of the criminals. The earls of Essex and Southampton were arraigned before a jury of twenty-five peers, where Buckhurst acted as lord steward. The guilt of the prisoners was too apparent to admit of any doubt; and, besides the insurrection known to every body, the treasonable conferences at Drury-house were proved by undoubted evidence. Sir Ferdinando Gorges was produced in court: The confessions of the earl of Rutland, of the lords Cromwel, Sandys, and Monteagle, of Davers, Blount, and Davies, were only read to the peers, according to the practice of that age. Essex’s best friends were scandalized at his assurance in insisting so positively on his innocence, and the goodness of his intentions; and still more at his vindictive disposition, in accusing, without any appearance of reason, secretary Cecil as a partizan of the Infanta’s title. The secretary, who had expected this charge, stepped into the court, and challenged Essex to produce his authority, which, on examination, was found extremely weak and frivolous.t When sentence was pronounced, Essex spoke like a man who expected nothing but death: But he added, that he should be sorry, if he were represented to the queen as a person that despised her clemency; though he should not, he believed, make any cringing submissions to obtain it. Southampton’s behaviour was more mild and submissive: He entreated the good offices of the peers in so modest and becoming a manner, as excited compassion in every one.
The most remarkable circumstance in Essex’s trial was Bacon’s appearance against him. He was none of the crown lawyers; so was not obliged by his office to assist at this trial: Yet did he not scruple, in order to obtain the queen’s favour, to be active in bereaving of life his friend and patron, whose generosity he had often experienced. He compared Essex’s conduct, in pretending to fear the attempts of his adversaries, to that of Pisistratus, the Athenian, who cut and wounded his own body; and making the people believe, that his enemies had committed the violence, obtained a guard for his person, by whose assistance he afterwards subdued the liberties of his country.
After Essex had passed some days in the solitude and reflections of a prison, his proud heart was at last subdued, not by the fear of death, but by the sentiments of religion; a principle, which he had before attempted to make the instrument of his ambition, but which now took a more firm hold of his mind, and prevailed over every other motive and consideration. His spiritual directors persuaded him, that he never could obtain the pardon of Heaven, unless he made a full confession of his disloyalty; and he gave in to the council an account of all his criminal designs, as well as of his correspondence with the king of Scots. He spared not even his most intimate friends, such as lord Mountjoy, whom he had engaged in these conspiracies; and he sought to pacify his present remorse, by making such atonements, as, in any other period of his life, he would have deemed more blameable than those attempts themselves, which were the objects of his penitence.u Sir Harry Nevil, in particular, a man of merit, he accused of a correspondence with the conspirators; though it appears, that this gentleman had never assented to the proposals made him, and was no farther criminal than in not revealing the earl’s treason; an office to which every man of honour naturally bears the strongest reluctance.w Nevil was thrown into prison, and underwent a severe persecution: But as the queen found Mountjoy an able and successful commander, she continued him in his government, and sacrificed her resentment to the public service.
Elizabeth affected extremely the praise of clemency; and in every great example, which she had made during her reign, she had always appeared full of reluctance and hesitation: But the present situation of Essex called forth all her tender affections, and kept her in the most real agitation and irresolution. She felt a perpetual combat between resentment and inclination, pride and compassion, the care of her own safety and concern for her favourite; and her situation, during this interval, was perhaps more an object of pity, than that to which Essex himself was reduced. She signed the warrant for his execution; she countermanded it; she again resolved on his death; she felt a new return of tenderness. Essex’s enemies told her, that he himself desired to die, and had assured her, that she could never be in safety while he lived: It is likely, that this proof of penitence and of concern for her would produce a contrary effect to what they intended, and would revive all the fond affection, which she had so long indulged towards the unhappy prisoner. But what chiefly hardened her heart against him was his supposed obstinacy, in never making, as she hourly expected, any application to her for mercy; and she finally gave her consent to his execution. He discovered at his death symptoms rather of penitence and piety than of fear; and willingly acknowledged the justice of the sentence by which he suffered. [25th Feb. And execution.] The execution was private in the Tower, agreeably to his own request. He was apprehensive, he said, lest the favour and compassion of the people would too much raise his heart in those moments, when humiliation under the afflicting hand of Heaven was the only proper sentiment, which he could indulge.x And the queen, no doubt, thought that prudence required the removing of so melancholy a spectacle from the public eye. Sir Walter Raleigh, who came to the Tower on purpose, and who beheld Essex’s execution from a window, encreased much by this action the general hatred, under which he already laboured: It was thought, that his sole intention was to feast his eyes with the death of an enemy; and no apology, which he could make for so ungenerous a conduct, could be accepted by the public. The cruelty and animosity, with which he urged on Essex’s fate, even when Cecil relented,y were still regarded as the principles of this unmanly behaviour.
The earl of Essex was but thirty-four years of age, when his rashness, imprudence, and violence brought him to this untimely end. We must here, as in many other instances, lament the inconstancy of human nature, that a person endowed with so many noble virtues, generosity, sincerity, friendship, valour, eloquence, and industry, should, in the later period of his life, have given reins to his ungovernable passions, and involved, not only himself, but many of his friends, in utter ruin. The queen’s tenderness and passion for him, as it was the cause of those premature honours, which he attained, seems on the whole, the chief circumstance, which brought on his unhappy fate. Confident of her partiality towards him, as well as of his own merit, he treated her with a haughtiness, which neither her love nor her dignity could bear; and as her amorous inclinations, in so advanced an age, would naturally make her appear ridiculous, if not odious, in his eyes, he was engaged, by an imprudent openness, of which he made profession, to discover too easily those sentiments to her. The many reconciliations and returns of affection, of which he had still made advantage, induced him to venture on new provocations, till he pushed her beyond all bounds of patience; and he forgot, that though the sentiments of the woman were ever strong in her, those of the sovereign had still in the end appeared predominant.
Some of Essex’s associates, Cuffe, Davers, Blount, Meric, and Davis, were tried and condemned, and all of these, except Davis, were executed. The queen pardoned the rest; being persuaded that they were drawn in merely from their friendship to that nobleman, and their care of his safety; and were ignorant of the more criminal part of his intentions. Southampton’s life was saved with great difficulty; but he was detained in prison during the remainder of this reign.
The king of Scots, apprehensive lest his correspondence with Essex might have been discovered, and have given offence to Elizabeth, sent the earl of Marre and lord Kinloss as ambassadors to England, in order to congratulate the queen on her escape from the late insurrection and conspiracy. They were also ordered to make secret enquiry, whether any measures had been taken by her for excluding him from the succession, as well as to discover the inclinations of the chief nobility and counsellors, in case of the queen’s demise.z They found the dispositions of men as favourable as they could wish; and they even entered into a correspondence with secretary Cecil, whose influence, after the fall of Essex, was now uncontrouled,a and who was resolved, by this policy, to acquire, in time, the confidence of the successor. He knew how jealous Elizabeth ever was of her authority, and he therefore carefully concealed from her his attachment to James: But he afterwards asserted, that nothing could be more advantageous to her, than this correspondence; because the king of Scots, secure of mounting the throne by his undoubted title, aided by those connections with the English ministry, was the less likely to give any disturbance to the present sovereign. He also persuaded that prince to remain in quiet, and patiently to expect, that time should open to him the inheritance of the crown, without pushing his friends on desperate enterprizes, which would totally incapacitate them from serving him. James’s equity, as well as his natural facility of disposition, easily inclined him to embrace that resolution;b and in this manner the minds of the English were silently, but universally disposed to admit, without opposition, the succession of the Scottish line: The death of Essex, by putting an end to faction, had been rather favourable than prejudicial to that great event.
[l] Birch’s Memoirs, vol. ii. p. 453.
[m] Winwood, vol. i. p. 118.
[n] Sydney’s Letters, vol. ii. p. 127.
[o] Birch’s Memoirs, p. 444, 445. Sydney’s Letters, vol. ii. p. 196.
[p] Sydney’s Letters, vol. ii. p. 151.
[q] Ibid. p. 139.
[r] Sydney’s Letters, vol. ii. p. 153.
[s] Ibid. p. 155, 156.
[t] Birch’s Memoirs, p. 444.
[u] Camden, p. 617.
[w] Birch’s Memoirs, vol. ii. p. 449.
[x] Sydney’s Letters, vol. ii. p. 200.
[y] Sydney’s Letters, vol. ii. p. 200, 201.
[z] Birch’s Memoirs, vol. ii. p. 454. Camden, p. 626, 627.
[a] Cabala, p. 78.
[b] Cabala, p. 83.
[c] Winwood, vol. i. p. 254.
[d] Birch’s Memoirs, vol. ii. p. 462.
[e] Camden, p. 628.
[f] Birch’s Memoirs, vol. ii. p. 472.
[g] Camden, p. 628.
[h] Cabala, p. 79.
[i] Birch’s Memoirs, vol. ii. p. 463. Camden, p. 630.
[k] Camden, p. 629. Osborne, p. 397. Sir Walter Raleigh’s Prerogative of parliament, p. 43.
[l] Birch’s Memoirs, vol. ii. p. 442, 443.
[m] Sydney’s Letters, vol. ii. p. 171.
[NOTE [GG]] Most of queen Elizabeth’s courtiers feigned love and desire towards her, and addressed themselves to her in the stile of passion and gallantry. Sir Walter Raleigh, having fallen into disgrace, wrote the following letter to his friend Sir Robert Cecil, with a view, no doubt, of having it shewn to the queen. “My heart was never broke till this day, that I hear the queen goes away so far off, whom I have followed so many years, with so great love and desire, in so many journeys, and am now left behind her in a dark prison all alone. While she was yet near at hand, that I might hear of her once in two or three days, my sorrows were the less; but even now my heart is cast into the depth of all misery. I, that was wont to behold her riding like Alexander, hunting like Diana, walking like Venus, the gentle wind blowing her fair hair about her pure cheeks, like a nymph, sometimes sitting in the shade like a Goddess, sometimes singing like an Angel, sometimes playing like Orpheus; behold the sorrow of this world! once amiss hath bereaved me of all. O glory that only shineth in misfortune, what is become of thy assurance? All wounds have scars but that of fantasie: All affections their relenting but that of womankind. Who is the judge of friendship but adversity, or when is grace witnessed but in offences? There were no divinity but by reason of compassion: For revenges are brutish and mortal. All those times past, the loves, the sighs, the sorrows, the desires, cannot they weigh down one frail misfortune? Cannot one drop of gall be hid in so great heaps of sweetness? I may then conclude, Spes & fortuna, valete. She is gone in whom I trusted; and of me hath not one thought of mercy, nor any respect of that which was. Do with me now therefore what you list. I am more weary of life than they are desirous I should perish; which, if it had been for her, as it is by her, I had been too happily born.” Murden, 657. It is to be remarked, that this Nymph, Venus, Goddess, Angel, was then about sixty. Yet five or six years after, she allowed the same language to be held to her. Sir Henry Unton, her ambassador in France, relates to her a conversation which he had with Henry IV. The monarch, after having introduced Unton to his mistress, the fair Gabrielle, asked him how he liked her. “I answered sparingly in her praise,” said the minister, “and told him, that if, without offence, I might speak it, I had the picture of a far more excellent mistress, and yet did her picture come far short of her perfection of beauty. As you love me, said he, shew it me, if you have it about you. I made some difficulties; yet upon his importunity offered it to his view very secretly, holding it still in my hand: He beheld it with passion and admiration, saying, that I had reason, Je me rends, protesting, that he had never seen the like; so, with great reverence, he kissed it twice or thrice, I detaining it still in my hand. In the end, with some kind of contention, he took it from me, vowing, that I might take my leave of it: For he would not forego it for any treasure: And that to possess the favour of the lively picture, he would forsake all the world, and hold himself most happy; with many other most passionate speeches.” Murden, p. 718. For farther particulars on this head, see the ingenious author of the Catalogue of royal and noble Authors, article Essex.
[o] Birch’s Memoirs, vol. ii. p. 471.
[p] Winwood’s Memorials, vol. i. p. 186–226.
[q] Camden, p. 630. Birch’s Memoirs, vol. ii. p. 464. State Trials. Bacon, vol. iv. p. 542, 543.
[r] Camden, p. 632.
[s] Birch’s Memoirs, vol. ii. p. 469.
[t] Bacon, vol. iv. p. 530.
[u] Winwood, vol. i. p. 300.
[w] Ibid. vol. i. p. 302.
[x] Dr. Barlow’s sermon on Essex’s execution. Bacon, vol. iv. p. 534.
