Life of Elizabeth I (75 page)

There was one moment of panic, however. In Antwerp, an inflammatory book entitled
A Conference about the Next Succession to the Crown of England
had been printed, and its author, the Jesuit Robert Parsons, had dedicated it to 'the Most Noble Earl of Essex, for that no man is in more high and eminent dignity at this day in our realm'. The book discussed the claims of all Elizabeth's possible successors, and called on Essex to play the part of kingmaker on her death. Knowing Elizabeth's views on any speculation about the succession, Essex was highly embarrassed to have his name associated with such a subversive work, and by the suggestion that he should determine a matter that was strictly a-question of royal prerogative, and was 'infinitely troubled'. When the Queen showed him the book, he greatly feared her reaction, but, much to his relief, she made little of it, realising that he had been 
the victim of a Catholic attempt to discredit him.

The following summer brought a return of the wet weather, and there was a second poor harvest, which resulted in a worse famine that winter. Many people died, and the buoyant mood that had marked the period after the Armada rapidly disintegrated.

In July 1595, four Spanish ships made a daring raid on Cornwall, burning Penzance and sacking the village of Mousehole. Alarmed by this, Queen and Council ordered that England's coastal defences be strengthened.

Elizabeth was still resisting intense pressure from Essex to appoint Francis Bacon Solicitor-General. Provoked beyond endurance, she screamed that she would 'seek all England for a solicitor' rather than accept the man, and in October, she slighted Bacon by appointing a little-known lawyer, Thomas Fleming, to the post. Essex was devastated, and unfairly blamed the Cecils who had in fact supported Bacon, but even he realised that there was no point in putting his friend forward for any other major offices, and by way of compensation, he made over to Bacon some property, which Bacon sold for _ i 800.

Accession Day, 17 November, was marked by the usual splendid jousts and celebrations at Whitehall. The Queen entertained the Dutch ambassador in the gallery, and discussed with him a new offensive against Spain whilst smiling and nodding to the watching crowd and the knights jousting below.

As usual Essex took centre stage in the tiltyard, but this year, in the evening, he put on an allegorical entertainment devised by Francis Bacon, in which three actors representing a soldier (Raleigh), a hunchbacked secretary (Cecil) and an aged hermit (Burghley) asked him 'to leave his vain following of love' for a goddess and choose a life either of experience, fame or contemplation. Then an actor dressed as his squire declared 'that this knight would never forsake his mistress's love, whose virtues made all his thoughts divine, whose wisdom taught him true policy, whose beauty and worth were at all times able to make him fit to command armies'. Here was a heavy hint, if ever there was one, but Elizabeth chose to ignore it.

The entertainment ended with Essex forsaking the goddess to devote himself to Love by serving his Queen; in his final speech, he made several vicious thrusts at the Cecils. 'My Lord of Essex's device is much commended in these late triumphs,' observed a spectator, but Elizabeth herself commented that, 'if she had thought there had been so much said of her, she would not have been there that night'.

Drake was now back in favour, and had suggested a further raid on Panama, in the hope of diverting King Philip and, of course, seizing 
more Spanish treasure, and the Queen agreed to this. But England's hero never came home: when his fleet returned, having achieved nothing, in the spring of 1596, it brought with it news of his death from dysentery on 29 January at Panama, where he was buried at sea.

By 1596, Cecil had become 'the greatest councillor of England, the Queen passing most of the day in private and secret conference with him'. Essex, however, was becoming bored with state duties, and people noticed that 'His Lordship is wearied and scorneth the dissembling courses of this place.' He was yearning for adventure and martial achievement.

His longings were to be fulfilled, for that spring Elizabeth, anticipating that Philip would send his new Armada in the summer, was preparing for an English expedition to destroy Philip's new fleet. She, Essex and Effingham were the chief investors, helping to provide 150 ships and 10,000 men. Elizabeth herself contributed , 50,000.

The eager Essex was the obvious choice to command the expedition, but Elizabeth, as usual, was 'daily in a change of humour', even threatening to call off the whole thing. 'The Queen wrangles with our action for no cause but because it is in hand,' complained the Earl. 'I know I shall never do her service but against her will.' He had laboured hard to persuade her to agree to this enterprise, but if she continued to behave like this, he vowed he would 'become a monk upon an hour's warning'.

In March, the Queen, with poor grace, agreed to appoint Essex and Lord Howard of Effingham joint commanders, and Essex, in such a good mood that he had even set aside his enmity towards the Cecils, went happily off to Plymouth to take charge of the fleet and muster his men. Then, on 16 May, came a message: having heard the alarming news that a Spanish army had occupied Calais, the Queen required both Essex and Lord Howard to return to her presence, 'they being so dear unto her and such persons of note, as she could not allow of their going'. This caused an uproar, both at court and in Plymouth, but the Queen, who had worked herself into a frenzy of anxiety, ignored the protests. Essex had forced her to send this expedition against her will, she protested. Burghley tried to calm her, but matters were made worse when Raleigh, newly returned from a voyage to Guiana, suddenly appeared at court, begging forgiveness and asking to be appointed supreme commander above Essex and Howard.

When Elizabeth had recovered from these confrontations, she was persuaded that the expedition had the best chance of success if Essex and Howard were allowed to remain as joint commanders, and she reluctantly agreed to this, grudgingly appointing Raleigh Rear Admiral.

Essex was so relieved he made peace with Raleigh, telling him, 'This is the action and the time in which you and I shall both be taught to know and love one another.'

Soon, all was ready, and an anxious Elizabeth sent Fulke Greville to Plymouth with a farewell letter for Essex: 'I make this humble bill of request to Him that all makes and does, that with His benign hand He will shadow you so, as all harm may light beside you, and all that may be best hap to your share; that your return may make you better, and me gladder. Go you in God's blessed name.' There was also a humorous note from Cecil: 'The Queen says, because you are poor, she sends you five shillings.' Enclosed was a prayer composed by Elizabeth to be read aloud to her troops: 'May God speed the victory, with least loss of English blood.' This boosted morale tremendously, and Essex wrote, 'It would please Her Majesty well to see th'effect of her own words.'

Lord Hunsdon's death that spring had plunged his cousin the Queen into a melancholy mood. Around this time, she promoted Essex's friend, Sir Thomas Egerton, an excellent and experienced lawyer, to be Lord Keeper of the Great Seal, an office that was revived whenever there was no Lord Chancellor. His seals of office were handed to him by the Queen in a ceremony in the Privy Chamber. Elizabeth appeared in a gold satin gown edged with silver, and stood beneath her canopy of estate on a rich Turkey carpet. She observed to Egerton that she had begun with a Lord Keeper, Sir Nicholas Bacon - 'and he was a wise man, I tell you' - and would end with a Lord Keeper.

'God forbid, Madam,' cut in Burghley, who was present, seated in a chair because of his gout. 'I hope you shall bury four or five more.'

'No, this is the last,' said Elizabeth, and burst into tears at the prospect of encroaching mortality. The embarrassed Egerton hastily agreed that Bacon had indeed been a wise man, but Elizabeth only cried more loudly, 'clapping her hand to her heart'. Then, turning to go to her bedchamber, she paused, remembering that Burghley would have to be carried from the audience in his chair and said briskly, 'None of the Lord Treasurer's men will come to fetch him so long as I am here. Therefore I will be gone.'

When she reached the door, she remembered that Egerton had not taken the customary oath of allegiance required by his office, and, still weeping, cried, 'He will never be an honest man until he be sworn. Swear him! Swear him!'

On 3 June, Elizabeth formally appointed Cecil Secretary of State, a post he had filled in all but name since 1590. On the same day, the expedition sailed for Spain, where, the following month, Essex carried out a daring and highly successful raid on the rich port of Cadiz, 'the 
Pearl of Andalusia', where some of Philip's ships were being kept in readiness for the invasion of England. Taken unawares, Spanish forces in the area could do little, and for two weeks, English troops ransacked and burned the town, mostly ignoring Essex's orders to spare its churches and religious houses. 'If any man had a desire to see Hell itself, it was then most lively figured,' observed Raleigh, who particularly distinguished himself during the fighting, although he was severely wounded in the leg and had to walk with a stick for some time afterwards. It was, in fact, he who had made some of the critical decisions that had ensured success, but as his rival Essex was determined to take all the credit himself, Raleigh's praises remained unsung. Predictably, the reconciliation between the two did not long survive Cadiz.

When Elizabeth received the first reports of the victory, she wrote to Essex, 'You have made me famous, dreadful and renowned, not more for your victory than for your courage. Let the army know I care not so much for being Queen, as that I am sovereign of such subjects.'

Flushed with success, Essex botched the ransoming of a Spanish merchant fleet trapped in the harbour; its owners decided to burn their ships rather than lose the twenty million ducats on board to the English. Undaunted, Essex decided that, rather than go on to attack Lisbon where the bulk of Philip's Armada lay, his forces should try to intercept the Spanish treasure fleet as it left port, bound for the Indies, but his colleagues overruled him, thereby depriving the English of the chance to seize thousands of pounds worth of booty. To make matters worse, Essex gave most of the loot from Cadiz to his men, rather than reserving it for the Queen.

Essex had at last achieved his ambition and proved himself a hero, and when he returned to England, sporting a newly-grown spade-shaped beard, it was to the acclaim of a grateful, adoring nation, who saw in him a second Drake or Scipio: 'He took a charter of the people's hearts which was never cancelled.' Preachers praised him as a champion of Protestantism, and spoke of his honour, justice and wisdom. There was no doubt that he was the most popular and important man in the kingdom.

Chapter 24

'We Are Evil Served'

Elizabeth shared the public's jubilation over Cadiz, which further enhanced her reputation in Europe - the Venetians were now calling her 'the Queen of the Seas' - but she was more concerned about cost than glory, and when Essex returned she did not heap praises and thanks on him, as he expected, but sourly asked him to account for his expenditure, desiring to know what 'great profit and gain' she was to get on her investment. Essex was forced to admit what she already knew, that there was none; in fact, more money was needed to pay his men. Elizabeth snapped that she had known everyone but herself would make a profit, and reluctantly loaned Essex ,2000 for wages, demanding that he pay it all back.

It was not only money that caused her irritation. She was also jealous of Essex's success and his all-too-evident popularity with her subjects. It made her feel insecure, for, given his instability, he could, under the influence of her enemies, prove dangerous when he commanded such support. She would not allow him to publish a pamphlet describing his heroic exploits, and when someone suggested that services of thanksgiving be held all over the country, she insisted that they take place in London only. She could not bear to hear people praising him, and made derogatory remarks in Council about his military strategies.

Essex bore it all patiently. 'I have a crabbed fortune that gives me no quiet', he wrote to Anthony Bacon, 'and the sour food I am fain still to digest may breed some humours. I assure you I am much distasted with the glorious greatness of a favourite.' But as it became clear to the Queen that it was not Essex's fault that the fleet had returned empty-handed, she softened somewhat, although when Burghley opposed a suggestion in Council that Essex should forfeit some of his profits from Cadiz, she berated him, shouting, 'My Lord Treasurer, either for fear or favour, you regard my Lord of Essex more than myself. You are a miscreant!

You are a coward!' Burghley had suffered such outbursts before, but they never failed to shake him, and he confided to Essex that he was between Scylla and Charybdis, 'daily decaying'. 'God be thanked!' said Anthony Bacon, who hated Burghley, though Essex wrote to the old man to express his sympathy. Nevertheless, his old rivalry with the Cecils had resurfaced, and was to become even stronger than before; the French ambassador noted that, 'It was a thing notorious to all the court; a man who was of the Lord Treasurer's party was sure to be among the enemies of the Earl.'

Essex now dominated both Queen and Council and was energetically involved in every aspect of state policy. The public regarded him with adulation as a near-legendary hero, and crowds gathered whenever he appeared. One poet referred to him at this time as 'Great England's glory and the world's wide wonder'. Of course, it went to his head, and Francis Bacon warned him that he must do his utmost not to trespass on the royal prerogative and assure the Queen of his utter loyalty. He should abandon martial pursuits and faction fights in favour of devoting himself to his conciliar duties, and should ask the Queen to appoint him to the vacant office of Lord Privy Seal, which carried 'a kind of superintendence over the Secretary'. But Essex, impulsive and headstrong as ever, was incapable of taking wise advice. Although he declared he had 'no ambition but Her Majesty's gracious favour and the reputation of well serving her', how could he, the renowned conqueror, ever confine himself to a civilian role?