Chapter XLIV: Elizabeth (2)

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 despatched 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 vigor, 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 decayed till next day; and emissaries were despatched to all Essex’s friends, informing them that Cobham and Raleigh had laid schemes against his life, and entreating their presence and assistance.

Next day, there appeared at Essex House the earls of Southampton and Rutland, the lords Sandys 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, comptroller, 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 recall, 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 Cromwell 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 arms 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 barricaded 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 partisans, (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 Sandy’s 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.[*]

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,[**] soon gave orders for the trial of the most considerable of the criminals.

* Camden p. 632.

** Birch’s Memoirs, vol. ii. p. 469

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 Cromwell, 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 partisan 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.[*]

* Bacon, vol. iv. p. 530.

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 behavior 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 favor, 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 design, 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 blamable than those attempts themselves which were the objects of his penitence.[*] Sir Henry 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 further criminal than in not revealing the earl’s treason; an office to which every man of honor naturally bears the strongest reluctance.[**] 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 favorite; 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. The execution was private in the Tower, agreeably to his own request. He was apprehensive, he said, lest the favor 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.[***] And the queen no doubt, thought that prudence required the removing of so melancholy a spectacle from the public eye.

* Winwood, vol. i. p. 300.

** Winwood, vol. i. p. 302.

*** Dr. Barlow’s Sermon on Essex’s Execution. Bacon, vol.
iv. p. 534

Sir Walter Raleigh, who came to the Tower on purpose, and who beheld Essex’s execution from a window, increased much by this action the general hatred under which he already labored: 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,[*] were still regarded as the principles of this unmanly behavior.

* Murdin, p. 811.

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, valor, eloquence, and industry--should, in the latter 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 honors 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 Davies, were tried and condemned, and all of these except Davies, 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 inquiry, 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.[*] They found the dispositions of men as favorable as they could wish; and they even entered into a correspondence with Secretary Cecil, whose influence, after the fall of Essex, was now uncontrolled,[**] 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 enterprises, 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;[***] 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 favorable than prejudicial to that great event.

The French king, who was little prepossessed in favor of James, and who, for obvious reasons, was averse to the union of England and Scotland,[****] made his ambassador drop some hints to Cecil of Henry’s willingness to concur in any measure for disappointing the hopes of the Scottish monarch; but as Cecil showed an entire disapprobation of such schemes.

* Birch’s Memoirs, vol. ii. p. 510.

** Osborne, p. 615.

*** Spotswood, p. 471, 472

**** Winwood, vol. i. p. 352

The court of France took no further steps in that matter; and thus the only foreign power which could give much disturbance to James’s succession, was induced to acquiesce in it.[*]

* Spotswood, p. 471

Henry made a journey this summer to Calais; and the queen, hearing of his intentions, went to Dover, in hopes of having a personal interview with a monarch, whom, of all others, she most loved and most respected. The king of France, who felt the same sentiments towards her, would gladly have accepted of the proposal; but as many difficulties occurred, it appeared necessary to lay aside, by common consent, the project of an interview. Elizabeth, however, wrote successively two letters to Henry, one by Edmondes, another by Sir Robert Sidney; in which she expressed a desire of conferring about a business of importance, with some minister in whom that prince reposed entire confidence. The marquis of Rosni the king’s favorite and prime minister, came to Dover in disguise; and the memoirs of that able statesman contain a full account of his conference with Elizabeth. This princess had formed a scheme for establishing, in conjunction with Henry, a new system in Europe, and of fixing a durable balance of power, by the erection of new states on the ruins of the house of Austria. She had even the prudence to foresee the perils which might ensue from the aggrandizement of her ally; and she purposed to unite all the seventeen provinces of the Low Countries in one republic, in order to form a perpetual barrier against the dangerous increase of the French as well as of the Spanish monarchy. Henry had himself long meditated such a project against the Austrian family; and Rosni could not forbear expressing his astonishment, when he found that Elizabeth and his master, though they had never communicated their sentiments on this subject, not only had entered into the same general views, but had also formed the same plan for their execution. The affairs, however, of France were not yet brought to a situation which might enable Henry to begin that great enterprise; and Rosni satisfied the queen that it would be necessary to postpone for some years their united attack on the house of Austria. He departed, filled with just admiration at the solidity of Elizabeth’s judgment, and the greatness of her mind; and he owns, that she was entirely worthy of that high reputation which she enjoyed in Europe.

The queen’s magnanimity in forming such extensive projects was the more remarkable, as, besides her having fallen so far into the decline of life, the affairs of Ireland, though conducted with abilities and success, were still in disorder, and made a great diversion of her forces. The expense incurred by this war lay heavy upon her narrow revenues; and her ministers, taking advantage of her disposition to frugality, proposed to her an expedient of saving, which, though she at first disapproved of it, she was at last induced to embrace. It was represented to her, that the great sums of money remitted to Ireland for the pay of the English forces, came, by the necessary course of circulation, into the hands of the rebels, and enabled them to buy abroad all necessary supplies of arms and ammunition, which, from the extreme poverty of that kingdom and its want of every useful commodity, they could not otherwise find means to purchase. It was therefore recommended to her, that she should pay her forces in base money; and it was asserted that, besides the great saving to the revenue, this species of coin could never be exported with advantage, and would not pass in any foreign market. Some of her wiser counsellors maintained, that if the pay of the soldiers were raised in proportion, the Irish rebels would necessarily reap the same benefit from the base money, which would always be taken at a rate suitable to its value; if the pay were not raised, there would be danger of a mutiny among the troops, who, whatever names might be affixed to the pieces of metal, would soon find from experience that they were defrauded in their income.[*] But Elizabeth, though she justly valued herself on fixing the standard of the English coin, much debased by her predecessors, and had innovated very little in that delicate article, was seduced by the specious arguments employed by the treasurer on this occasion; and she coined a great quantity of base money, which he made use of in the pay of her forces in Ireland.[**]

* Camden, p. 643

** Rymer, tom, xvi. p. 414.

Mountjoy, the deputy, was a man of abilities; and foreseeing the danger of mutiny among the troops, he led them instantly into the field, and resolved, by means of strict discipline, and by keeping them employed against the enemy, to obviate those inconveniencies which were justly to be apprehended. He made military roads, and built a fortress at Moghery; he drove the Mac-Genises out of Lecale; he harassed Tyrone in Ulster with inroads and lesser expeditions; and by destroying every where, and during all seasons, the provisions of the Irish, he reduced them to perish by famine in the woods and morasses, to which they were obliged to retreat. At the same time, Sir Henry Docwray, who commanded another body of troops, took the Castle of Derry, and put garrisons into Newton and Ainogh; and having seized the monastery of Donnegal, near Balishannon, he threw troops into it, and defended it against the assaults of O’Donnel and the Irish. Nor was Sir George Carew idle in the province of Munster. He seized the titular earl of Desmond, and sent him over, with Florence Macarty, another chieftain, prisoner to England. He arrested many suspected persons, and took hostages from others. And having got a reënforcement of two thousand men from England, he threw himself into Corke, which he supplied with arms and provisions; and he put every thing in a condition for resisting the Spanish invasion, which was daily expected. The deputy, informed of the danger to which the southern provinces were exposed, left the prosecution of the war against Tyrone, who was reduced to great extremities; and he marched with his army into Munster.

At last the Spaniards, under Don John d’Aquila, arrived at Kinsale; and Sir Richard Piercy, who commanded in the town with a small garrison of a hundred and fifty men, found himself obliged to abandon it on their appearance. These invaders amounted to four thousand men, and the Irish discovered a strong propensity to join them, in order to free themselves from the English government, with which they were extremely discontented. One chief ground of their complaint, was the introduction of trials by jury;[*] an institution abhorred by that people, though nothing contributes more to the support of that equity and liberty for which the English laws are so justly celebrated.

* Camden, p 644.

The Irish, also, bore a great favor to the Spaniards, having entertained the opinion that they themselves were descended from that nation; and their attachment to the Catholic religion proved a new cause of affection to the invaders. D’Aquila assumed the title of general “in the holy war for the preservation of the faith” in Ireland; and he endeavored to persuade the people that Elizabeth was, by several bulls of the pope, deprived of her crown; that her subjects were absolved from their oaths of allegiance; and that the Spaniards were come to deliver the Irish from the dominion of the devil.[*] Mountjoy found it necessary to act with vigor, in order to prevent a total insurrection of the Irish; and having collected his forces, he formed the siege of Kinsale by land, while Sir Richard Levison, with a small squadron, blockaded it by sea. He had no sooner begun his operations than he heard of the arrival of another body of two thousand Spaniards under the command of Alphonso Ocampo, who had taken possession of Baltimore and Berehaven; and he was obliged to detach Sir George Carew to oppose their progress. Tyrone, meanwhile, with Randal, Mac-Surley, Tirel, baron of Kelley, and other chieftains of the Irish, had joined Ocampo with all their forces, and were marching to the relief of Kinsale. The deputy, informed of their design by intercepted letters, made preparations to receive them; and being reenforced by Levison with six hundred marines, he posted his troops on an advantageous ground, which lay on the passage of the enemy, leaving some cavalry to prevent a sally from D’Aquila and the Spanish garrison. When Tyrone, with a detachment of Irish and Spaniards, approached, he was surprised to find the English so well posted, and ranged in good order, and he immediately sounded a retreat: but the deputy gave orders to pursue him; and having thrown these advanced troops into disorder, he followed them to the main body, whom he also attacked and put to flight, with the slaughter of twelve hundred men.[**] Ocampo was taken prisoner; Tyrone fled into Ulster; O’Donnel made his escape into Spain; and D’Aquila, finding himself reduced to the greatest difficulties, was obliged to capitulate upon such terms as the deputy prescribed to him; he surrendered Kinsale and Baltimore, and agreed to evacuate the kingdom. This great blow, joined to other successes gained by Wlimot, governor of Kerry, and by Roger and Gavin Harvey, threw the rebels into dismay, and gave a prospect of the final reduction of Ireland.

The Irish war, though successful, was extremely burdensome on the queen’s revenue; and besides the supplies granted by parliament, which were indeed very small, but which they ever regarded as mighty concessions, she had been obliged, notwithstanding her great frugality, to employ other expedients, such as selling the royal demesnes and crown jewels,[***] and exacting loans from the people,[****] in order to support this cause, so essential to the honor and interests of England.

* Camden, p. 645.

** Winwood, vol. i. p. 369.

*** D’Ewes, p. 629.

**** D’Ewes, p. 629.

The necessity of her affairs obliged her again to summon a parliament; and it here appeared, that though old age was advancing fast upon her, though she had lost much of her popularity by the unfortunate execution of Essex, insomuch that when she appeared in public she was not attended with the usual acclamations,[*] yet the powers of her prerogative, supported by her vigor, still remained as high and uncontrollable as ever.

The active reign of Elizabeth had enabled many persons to distinguish themselves in civil and military employments; and the queen, who was not able from her revenue to give them any rewards proportioned to their services, had made use of an expedient which had been employed by her predecessors, but which had never been carried to such an extreme as under her administration. She granted her servants and courtiers patents for monopolies; and these patents they sold to others, who were thereby enabled to raise commodities to what price they pleased, and who put invincible restraints upon all commerce, industry, and emulation in the arts. It is astonishing to consider the number and importance of those commodities which were thus assigned over to patentees. Currants, salt, iron, powder, cards, calf-skins, fells, pouldavies, ox-shin-bones, train oil, lists of cloth, potashes, aniseseeds, vinegar, seacoals, steel, aquavitæ, brushes, pots, bottles, saltpetre, lead, accidences, oil, calamine stone, oil of blubber, glasses, paper, starch, tin, sulphur, new drapery, dried pilchards, transportation of iron ordnance, of beer, of horn, of leather, importation of Spanish wool, of Irish yarn: these are but a part of the commodities which had been appropriated to monopolists.[**] When this list was read in the house, a member cried, “Is not bread in the number?” “Bread,” said every one with astonishment. “Yes, I assure you,” replied he, “if affairs go on at this rate, we shall have bread reduced to a monopoly before next parliament.” [***] These monopolists were so exorbitant in their demands, that in some places they raised the price of salt from sixteen pence a bushel, to fourteen or fifteen shillings.[****]

* D’Ewes, p 629. Osborne, p. 604.

** D’Ewes, p 648, 650, 652.

*** D’Ewes, p. 648.

**** D’Ewes, p. 647.

Such high profits naturally begat intruders upon their commerce; and in order to secure themselves against encroachments, the patentees were armed with high and arbitrary powers from the council, by which they were enabled to oppress the people at pleasure, and to exact money from such as they thought proper to accuse of interfering with their patent.[*] The patentees of saltpetre, having the power of entering into every house, and of committing what havoc they pleased in stables, cellars, or wherever they suspected saltpetre might be gathered, commonly extorted money from those who desired to free themselves from this damage or trouble.[**] And while all domestic intercourse was thus restrained, lest any scope should remain for industry, almost every species of foreign commerce was confined to exclusive companies, who bought and sold at any price that they themselves thought proper to offer or exact.

These grievances, the most intolerable for the present, and the most pernicious in their consequences, that ever were known in any age or under any government, had been mentioned in the last parliament, and a petition had even been presented to the queen, complaining of the patents; but she still persisted in defending her monopolists against her people. A bill was now introduced into the lower house, abolishing all these monopolies; and as the former application had been unsuccessful, a law was insisted on as the only certain expedient for correcting these abuses. The courtiers, on the other hand, maintained, that this matter regarded the prerogative, and that the commons could never hope for success, if they did not make application, in the most humble and respectful manner, to the queen’s goodness and beneficence. The topics which were advanced in the house, and which came equally from the courtiers and the country gentlemen, and were admitted by both, will appear the most extraordinary to such as are prepossessed with an idea of the privileges enjoyed by the people during that age, and of the liberty possessed under the administration of Elizabeth. It was asserted that the queen inherited both an enlarging and a restraining power; by her prerogative she might set at liberty what was restrained by statute or otherwise, and by her prerogative she might restrain what was otherwise at liberty:[***] that the royal prerogative was not to be canvassed, nor disputed, nor examined;[****] and did not even admit of any limitation.[v]

* D’Ewes, p. 644, 646, 652.

** D’Ewes, p. 653.

*** D’Ewes, p. 644, 675.

**** D’Ewes, p. 644, 649.

v D’Ewes, p. 646. 654.

That absolute princes, such as the sovereigns of England, were a species of divinity;[*] that it was in vain to attempt tying the queen’s hands by laws or statutes; since, by means of her dispensing power, she could loosen herself at pleasure:[**] and that even if a clause should be annexed to a statute, excluding her dispensing power, she could first dispense with that clause and then with the statute.[***] After all this discourse, more worthy of a Turkish divan than of an English house of commons, according to our present idea of this assembly, the queen, who perceived how odious monopolies had become, and what heats were likely to arise, sent for the speaker, and desired him to acquaint the house, that she would immediately cancel the most grievous and oppressive of these patents.[****] [38]

The house was struck with astonishment, and admiration and gratitude, at this extraordinary instance of the queen’s goodness and condescension. A member said, with tears in his eyes, that if a sentence of everlasting happiness had been pronounced in his favor, he could not have felt more joy than that with which he was at present over whelmed.[v] Another observed, that this message from the sacred person of the queen was a kind of gospel or glad tidings, and ought to be received as such, and be written in the tablets of their hearts.[v*] And it was further remarked, that in the same manner as the Deity would not give his glory to another, so the queen herself was the only agent in their present prosperity and happiness.[v**] The house voted, that the speaker, with a committee, should ask permission to wait on her majesty, and return thanks to her for her gracious concessions to her people.

When the speaker, with the other members, was introduced to the queen, they all flung themselves on their knees, and remained in that posture a considerable time, till she thought proper to express her desire that they should rise.[v***]

* D’Ewes, p. 649.

** D’Ewes, p. 649.

*** D’Ewes, p. 640, 646.

**** See note LL, at the end of the volume.

v D’Ewes, p. 654.

v* D’Ewes, p. 656.

v** D’Ewes, p. 657.

v*** We learn from Hentzner’s Travels, that no one spoke to
Queen Elizabeth without kneeling; though now and then she
raised some with waving her hand. Nay, wherever she turned
her eye, every one fell on his knees. Her successor first
allowed his courtiers to omit this ceremony; and as he
exerted not the power, so he relinquished the appearance of
despotism. Even when Queen Elizabeth was absent, those who
covered her table, though persons of quality, neither
approached it nor retired from it without kneeling, and that
often three times.

The speaker displayed the gratitude of the commons, because her sacred ears were ever open to hear them, and her blessed hands ever stretched out to relieve them. They acknowledged, he said, in all duty and thankfulness acknowledged, that, before they called, her “preventing grace” and “all-deserving goodness” watched over them for their good; more ready to give than they could desire, much less deserve. He remarked, that the attribute which was most proper to God, to perform all he promiseth, appertained also to her; and that she was all truth, all constancy, and all goodness. And he concluded with these expressions: “Neither do we present our thanks in words or any outward sign, which can be no sufficient retribution for so great goodness; but in all duty and thankfulness, prostrate at your feet, we present our most loyal and thankful hearts, even the last drop of blood in our hearts, and the last spirit of breath in our nostrils, to be poured out, to be breathed up, for your safety.” [*]

* D’Ewes, p. 658, 659.

The queen heard very patiently this speech, in which she was flattered in phrases appropriated to the Supreme Being; and she returned an answer full of such expressions of tenderness towards her people, as ought to have appeared fulsome after the late instances of rigor which she had employed, and from which nothing but necessity had made her depart. Thus was this critical affair happily terminated; and Elizabeth, by prudently receding, in time, from part of her prerogative, maintained her dignity, and preserved the affections of her people.

The commons granted her a supply quite unprecedented, of four subsidies and eight fifteenths; and they were so dutiful as to vote this supply before they received any satisfaction in the business of monopolies, which they justly considered as of the utmost importance to the interest and happiness of the nation. Had they attempted to extort that concession by keeping the supply in suspense, so haughty was the queen’s disposition, that this appearance of constraint and jealousy had been sufficient to have produced a denial of all their requests, and to have forced her into some acts of authority still more violent and arbitrary.

{1602.} The remaining events of this reign are neither numerous nor important. The queen, finding that the Spaniards had involved her in so much trouble, by fomenting and assisting the Irish rebellion, resolved to give them employment at home; and she fitted out a squadron of nine ships, under Sir Richard Levison, admiral, and Sir William Monson, vice-admiral, whom she sent on an expedition to the coast of Spain. The admiral, with part of the squadron, met the galleons loaded with treasure; but was not strong enough to attack them. The vice-admiral also fell in with some rich ships, but they escaped for a like reason; and these two brave officers, that their expedition might not prove entirely fruitless, resolved to attack the harbor of Cerimbra, in Portugal; where, they received intelligence, a very rich carrack had taken shelter. The harbor was guarded by a castle: there were eleven galleys stationed in it; and the militia of the country, to the number, as was believed, of twenty thousand men, appeared in arms on the shore: yet, notwithstanding these obstacles, and others derived from the winds and tides, the English squadron broke into the harbor, dismounted the guns of the castle, sunk, or burnt, or put to flight the galleys, and obliged the carrack to surrender.[*] They brought her home to England, and she was valued at a million of ducats:[**] a sensible loss to the Spaniards, and a supply still more important to Elizabeth.[***]

* Monson, p. 181.

* Camden, p. 647.

* This year the Spaniards began the siege of Ostend, which
was bravely defended for five months by Sir Francis Vere.
The states then relieved him, by sending a new governor; and
on the whole, the siege lasted three years, and is computed
to have cost the lives of one hundred thousand men.

The affairs of Ireland, after the defeat of Tyrone and the expulsion of the Spaniards, hastened to a settlement. Lord Mountjoy divided his army into small parties, and harassed the rebels on every side: he built Charlemont and many other small forts, which were impregnable to the Irish, and guarded all the important passes of the country: the activity of Sir Henry Docwray and Sir Arthur Chichester permitted no repose or security to the rebels; and many of the chieftains, after skulking during some time in woods and morasses, submitted to mercy, and received such conditions as the deputy was pleased to impose upon them.

{1603.} Tyrone himself made application by Arthur Mac-Baron, his brother, to be received upon terms; but Mountjoy would not admit him, except he made an absolute surrender of his life and fortunes to the queen’s mercy. He appeared before the deputy at Millefont, in a habit and posture suitable to his present fortune; and after acknowledging his offence in the most humble terms, he was committed to custody by Mountjoy, who intended to bring him over captive into England, to be disposed of at the queen’s pleasure.

But Elizabeth was now incapable of receiving any satisfaction from this fortunate event: she had fallen into a profound melancholy; which all the advantages of her high fortune, all the glories of her prosperous reign, were unable in any degree to alleviate or assuage. Some ascribed this depression of mind to her repentance of granting a pardon to Tyrone, whom she had always resolved to bring to condign punishment for his treasons, but who had made such interest with the ministers as to extort a remission from her. Others, with more likelihood, accounted for her dejection by a discovery which she had made, of the correspondence maintained in her court with her successor, the king of Scots, and by the neglect to which, on account of her old age and infirmities, she imagined herself to be exposed. But there is another cause assigned for her melancholy, which has long been rejected by historians as romantic, but which late discoveries seem to have confirmed:[*] some incidents happened which revived her tenderness for Essex, and filled her with the deepest sorrow for the consent which she had unwarily given to his execution.

* See the proofs of this remarkable fact collected in
Birch’s Negotiations, p. 206. And Memoirs, vol. ii. p. 481,
505, 506, etc.

The earl of Essex, after his return from the fortunate expedition against Cadiz, observing the increase of the queen’s fond attachment towards him, took occasion to regret, that the necessity of her service required him often to be absent from her person, and exposed him to all those ill offices which his enemies, more assiduous in their attendance, could employ against him. She was moved with this tender jealousy; and making him the present of a ring, desired him to keep that pledge of her affection, and assured him, that into whatever disgrace he should fall, whatever prejudices she might be induced to entertain against him, yet, if he sent her that ring, she would immediately upon the sight of it recall her former tenderness, would afford him a patient hearing, and would lend a favorable ear to his apology. Essex, notwithstanding all his misfortunes, reserved this precious gift to the last extremity; but after his trial and condemnation, he resolved to try the experiment, and he committed the ring to the countess of Nottingham, whom he desired to deliver it to the queen. The countess was prevailed on by her husband, the mortal enemy of Essex, not to execute the commission; and Elizabeth, who still expected that her favorite would make this last appeal to her tenderness, and who ascribed the neglect of it to his invincible obstinacy, was, after much delay and many internal combats, pushed by resentment and policy to sign the warrant for his execution. The countess of Nottingham, falling into sickness, and affected with the near approach of death, was seized with remorse for her conduct; and having obtained a visit from the queen, she craved her pardon, and revealed to her the fatal secret. The queen, astonished with this incident, burst into a furious passion: she shook the dying countess in her bed; and crying to her, “that God might pardon her, but she never could,” she broke from her, and thenceforth resigned herself over to the deepest and most incurable melancholy. She rejected all consolation: she even refused food and sustenance: and throwing herself on the floor, she remained sullen and immovable, feeding her thoughts on her afflictions, and declaring life and existence an insufferable burden to her. Few words she uttered; and they were all expressive of some inward grief which she cared not to reveal: but sighs and groans were the chief vent which she gave to her despondency, and which, though they discovered her sorrows, were never able to ease or assuage them. Ten days and nights she lay upon the carpet, leaning on cushions which her maids brought her; and her physicians could not persuade her to allow herself to be put to bed, much less to make trial of any remedies which they prescribed to her.[*]

* Strype, vol. iv. No. 276.

Her anxious mind at last had so long preyed on her frail body, that her end was visibly approaching; and the council, being assembled, sent the keeper, admiral, and secretary, to know her will with regard to her successor. She answered with a faint voice, that as she had held a regal sceptre, she desired no other than a royal successor. Cecil requesting her to explain herself more particularly, she subjoined, that she would have a king to succeed her; and who should that be but her nearest kinsman, the king of Scots? Being then advised by the archbishop of Canterbury to fix her thoughts upon God, she replied, that she did so, nor did her mind in the least wander from him. Her voice soon after left her and senses failed; she fell into a lethargic slumber, which continued some hours; and she expired gently, without further struggle or convulsion, in the seventieth year of her age, and forty-fifth of her reign.

So dark a cloud overcast the evening of that day which had shone out with a mighty lustre in the eyes of all Europe. There are few great personages in history who have been more exposed to the calumny of enemies and the adulation of friends than Queen Elizabeth; and yet there scarcely is any whose reputation has been more certainly determined by the unanimous consent of posterity. The unusual length of her administration, and the strong features of her character, were able to overcome all prejudices; and obliging her detractors to abate much of their invectives, and her admirers somewhat of their panegyrics, have at last, in spite of political factions and, what is more, of religious animosities, produced a uniform judgment with regard to her conduct. Her vigor, her constancy, her magnanimity, her penetration, vigilance, address, are allowed to merit the highest praises, and appear not to have been surpassed by any person that ever filled a throne: a conduct less rigorous, less imperious, more sincere, more indulgent to her people, would have been requisite to form a perfect character. By the force of her mind, she controlled all her more active and stronger qualities, and prevented them from running into excess: her heroism was exempt from temerity, her frugality from avarice, her friendship from partiality, her active temper from turbulency and a vain ambition; she guarded not herself with equal care or equal success from lesser infirmities; the rivalship of beauty, the desire of admiration, the jealousy of love, and the sallies of anger.

Her singular talents for government were founded equally on her temper and on her capacity. Endowed with a great command over herself, she soon obtained an uncontrolled ascendant over her people; and while she merited all their esteem by her real virtues, she also engaged their affections by her pretended ones. Few sovereigns of England succeeded to the throne in more difficult circumstances; and none ever conducted the government with such uniform success and felicity. Though unacquainted with the practice of toleration, the true secret for managing religious factions, she preserved her people, by her superior prudence, from those confusions in which theological controversy had involved all the neighboring nations: and though her enemies were the most powerful princes of Europe, the most active, the most enterprising, the least scrupulous, she was able by her vigor to make deep impressions on their states; her own greatness, meanwhile, remained untouched and unimpaired.

The wise ministers and brave warriors who flourished under her reign, share the praise of her success; but instead of lessening the applause due to her, they make great addition to it. They owed all of them their advancement to her choice; they were supported by her constancy; and, with all their abilities, they were never able to acquire any undue ascendant over her. In her family, in her court, in her kingdom, she remained equally mistress: the force of the tender passions was great over her, but the force of her mind was still superior; and the combat which her victory visibly cost her, serves only to display the firmness of her resolution, and the loftiness of her ambitious sentiments.

The fame of this princess, though it has surmounted the prejudices both of faction and bigotry, yet lies still exposed to another prejudice, which is more durable because more natural, and which, according to the different views in which we survey her, is capable either of exalting beyond measure, or diminishing the lustre of her character. This prejudice is founded on the consideration of her sex. When we contemplate her as a woman, we are apt to be struck with the highest admiration of her great qualities and extensive capacity; but we are also apt to require some more softness of disposition, some greater lenity of temper, some of those amiable weaknesses by which her sex is distinguished. But the true method of estimating her merit, is to lay aside all these considerations, and consider her merely as a rational being placed in authority, and intrusted with the government of mankind. We may find it difficult to reconcile our fancy to her as a wife or a mistress; but her qualities as a sovereign, though with some considerable exceptions, are the object of undisputed applause and approbation.