Elizabeth (40 page)

Historian Lucy Aikin describes him as lacking ‘… the profound dissimulation, the exquisite address and especially the wary coolness, by which his predecessor [Robert Dudley] well knew how to accomplish his ends … His character was impetuous, his
natural disposition frank; and experience had not yet taught him to distrust either himself or others.’
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Francis Bacon also noted the young man’s tendency towards self-destruction. He recorded a conversation between friends discussing Devereux: ‘I know but one friend and one enemy my lord hath; and that one friend is the Queen, and that one enemy is himself.’
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Despite this, Elizabeth appeared to be besotted. Anthony Bagot, Devereux’s steward remarked on how much time the couple spent together, writing: ‘At night my lord is at cards, or one game and another with her, that he cometh not to his own lodgings until birds sing in the morning.’
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Rumours, of course, circulated that the pair got up to more than card games in those long nights, but the age difference between them was 33 years, and Devereux was still rather childish. He often acted more like a spoiled child than the Queen’s lover. He was disdainful and insolent towards Elizabeth’s most trusted and honoured courtiers. He even got into a fight with Sir Walter Raleigh, about which the Queen spoke sharply to him. Devereux tried to run off to join the army in the Netherlands, but Elizabeth ordered him back.

He was jealous of the Queen’s attention of the young and good-looking Charles Blount, son of Lord Mountjoy, who fought well in the tiltyard. When Elizabeth gave Blount a gold chess queen as a reward, he wore it tied to his arm as a tilting favour. Devereux sniped at him ‘every fool must have a favour’.
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Blount then challenged him to a duel and wounded Devereux in the leg, but Elizabeth was not overly worried: ‘By God’s death, it is fit that someone or other should take him down and teach him better manners, otherwise there would be no rule with him.’
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She sent the two away from Court until they made friends again, which they
eventually did, though a few weeks later she had to stop a duel between Devereux and Raleigh.

In the meantime, the Anglo-Spanish War (1585–1604) had broken out. In 1589, Sir Francis Drake (a hero for his recent plundering of the Spanish treasure fleet and raid of Cadiz harbour, which destroyed some of the ships that would otherwise have swelled the Armada in 1588) was planning a force to invade Portugal, followed by a trip to the Azores to waylay another Spanish treasure fleet. Devereux, like many young noblemen who were short of money, yearned to go with Drake. The Queen told him not to go, but he and his followers slipped aboard the
Swiftsure
to follow Drake. He wrote to Thomas Heneage about his financial difficulties:

The Queen, having previously invested in the enterprise, now refused to support the plan. She sent an angry peremptory note to Devereux, stating:

Devereux did not heed this warning, however, and only returned to England after the forces were overtaken with illness and defeat and failed to take Lisbon. Elizabeth, though displeased, did not follow through on her threats.

The following year, in 1590, Devereux secretly married Frances Walsingham, the only child of Francis Walsingham and his wife. She was the widow of the legendary, heroic soldier and poet Sir Philip Sidney, who had been killed in the Battle of Zutphen in the Netherlands in which Devereux himself had fought. Devereux did not reveal their marriage to the Queen until Frances became pregnant. Elizabeth was annoyed, but allowed Devereux to remain at Court with the proviso that his wife should retire to her mother’s house in the country.

A year later, Devereux begged to be allowed to fight in France for Henri de Navarre at the siege of Rouen. France was split into factions; the Protestant Henri de Navarre, now Henri IV (King of France 1589–1610), was the uncrowned King, besieged by armies of Catholic loyalists supported by Spain. Elizabeth sent Devereux and his troops to support Henri IV. Devereux led a small force to attack an outer fort at Rouen, where his younger brother was killed in the fighting. When the Queen decided that Henri IV was mismanaging his armies, she ordered Devereux home. Henri IV would take the throne in July 1593 when he converted to Catholicism to win his country.

Back in England, Devereux continued his military career. In 1596, Elizabeth sent a fleet of 120 ships under the joint command of Devereux, Charles Howard (Lord Howard of Effingham) and
Sir Walter Raleigh, first to assist Henri IV in repulsing a Spanish naval assault on Calais, and then to move on to capture Cadiz. Elizabeth wrote to Devereux her wishes that he keep from harm and that God bless his journey and make it successful.
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On 15 April, Calais surrendered to the Spanish. When Henri IV refused England permission to try to retake the city, Devereux and Howard went on to their secondary target, destroyed the galleons guarding the harbour and captured Cadiz. Devereux was lauded for allowing the women and children to gather up their possessions and leave the town before it was sacked, a noble and unusual gesture. Elizabeth was pleased to write to her commanders, ‘You have made me famous, dreadful and renowned not more for your Victory than for your Courage, nor more for either than for such plentiful life [there were minimal casualties], nor of mercy which may well match the better of the two.’
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Devereux wanted to hold Cadiz and wait for a treasure fleet due in from America, but he was overruled by Howard and Raleigh. The ships left for England about 48 hours before the treasure fleet arrived. Elizabeth wanted the war to end; Spain was in no position to mount a counteroffensive.

Flushed with his success, Devereux was enjoying his status with young adventurers who looked to him for danger, excitement and loot. On his return, he found himself very popular and imagined the Queen would reward him and his friends. He expected his supporters to receive posts from the Queen, but she did not comply. Elizabeth made Charles Howard 1st Earl of Nottingham in 1597, partly due to his service at Cadiz, which made the arrogant Devereux furious even though she made him Earl Marshal of England. When news filtered through that Philip II, up in arms over the last raid on Cadiz, was once again assembling a
fleet to attack England, Devereux was determined to force the Queen to give him command of the defence. According to a letter from Rowland Whyte, a postmaster of the Court and steward of Sir Robert Sidney, ‘Her Majesty, as I heard, resolved to break [Devereux] of his will and to pull down his great heart; who found it a thing impossible and says he holds it from the mother’s side; but all is well again, and no doubt he will grow a mighty man of our state.’
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Eventually, later in 1597, Devereux was given command of a small fleet with the mission of seeking out and destroying Spanish ships and then moving on to the Azores to try to intercept and capture a treasure fleet. Elizabeth’s coffers, like Philip II’s, were desperately short of money and both monarchs needed the arrival of such a vast fortune. However, the mission went wrong from the beginning, when bad weather kept the fleet in port, using up their supplies. They were finally able to sail in July, but due to adverse winds and wasted time, the ships headed straight for the Azores to try to intercept the treasure ships.

There was dissension on board from the start, with Devereux arguing with his deputies, Sir Walter Raleigh and Sir Thomas Howard. Through his lack of experience, Devereux fatally moved his ships at a critical moment and the Spanish fleet slipped into port behind them. He had missed his prize by only a couple of hours. The fleet was forced to return home.

Devereux’s welcome consisted of a scolding; he had wasted the Queen’s precious resources and had neither incapacitated the enemy nor provided the treasury with much-needed gold and silver. Elizabeth wrote him a letter, endorsed by William Cecil, that summed up his character faults, beginning, ‘Eyes of youth have sharp sights, but commonly not so deep as those of elder age, which makes me marvel less at rash attempts and headstrong counsels which gives
not leisure to judgement’s warning, nor heeds advice, but makes a laughter of the one and despises with scorn the last …’
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Devereux also drew the Queen’s displeasure with his dalliances at Court. Although happily married, he was a remarkably handsome man and attracted the interest of certain ladies. He tried to keep his affairs secret, but rumours were hard to quell. In 1597, John Harington received a letter bringing him up to date with Court gossip, hinting at a flirtation between Devereux and one of the Queen’s servants: ‘… [Elizabeth] swore she would no more show her [Lady Marie Howard] any more countenance, but out with all such ungracious flouting wenches; because, forsooth, she hath much favour and marks of love from the young earl [Devereux], which is not so pleasing to the Queen.’
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The advice of Harington’s correspondent was that someone should impress on the young lady the need for discretion, that she should carry out her duties modestly and not keep absenting herself, which in itself made the Queen suspicious. She should dress more circumspectly and, above all, she should keep well away from Devereux.

By the end of the 1590s, the Nine Years War (1595–1603) between Irish chieftains and English forces was at a bitter and bloody stalemate and Elizabeth and her ministers were discussing who to select as Lord Lieutenant of Ireland to try to get the upper hand. Devereux put forward Sir George Carew, but Elizabeth chose Sir William Knollys, Devereux’s uncle. Devereux argued about the decision and turned his back on the Queen in a temper – a terrible insult. She smacked him round the ear and spat out, ‘Go and be hanged,’ at which he put his hand to his sword as if he would draw it. It was treason, punishable by death, to draw a weapon in the presence of the Queen. Charles Howard had to come between them, and Devereux stormed off. Elizabeth had had enough; he must apologize and learn to react with a cool head: ‘he
hath played long enough upon me and now I mean to play awhile with him and stand as much upon my greatness as he hath upon his stomach.’
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The Council was split on the Irish question. One group, led by Devereux, wanted war at any cost, and the other, led by William Cecil and his son Robert, favoured peace if it could be honourably achieved. By this time, William Cecil was terminally ill. Elizabeth came to the bedside of her ‘Spirit’ and fed him herself. Although he never played the lover with her, and had never fitted her picture of ideal male beauty, they were closer than most couples. He had always been honest with her and had been her chief adviser since she had assumed the throne – in turn, she had never betrayed him. Cecil had groomed his son, Robert, as his successor in the matters of gently and tactfully guiding the Queen. William Cecil died on 4 August 1598. Coincidentally, Philip II of Spain died a month later. Elizabeth had lost both her dearest Councillor and her dearest enemy.

With William Cecil gone, Devereux used his influence to gain the post of Lord Deputy of Ireland in 1599 and convinced the Council to let him lead a huge expeditionary force to put down the rebellion. A vast army of 16,000 troops and 1,000 horses was assembled to take down Hugh O’Neill, Earl of Tyrone, who had defeated the previous English forces sent against him. Devereux had a war chest in excess of £250,000 and a host of young Court gentlemen who wished to follow him to fame and glory and win wealth and position.

Not fully trusting Devereux after his debacle in the Azores, the Queen arranged for John Harington to go as Master of the Horse, telling him to report directly back to her about the campaign. Devereux, however, was confident of success, believing he had been given the power to make whatever commands he felt necessary and
sure that he would win a great and unsurpassed victory for Elizabeth. As he put it in a letter to John Harington: ‘I have beaten Knollys and Mountjoy in the Council, and by God I will beat Tyrone in the field; for nothing worthy her Majesty’s honour hath yet been achieved.’
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But by July 1599, it seemed clear that Devereux was ignoring the list of instructions he had been given to pacify Ireland. Elizabeth wrote to him complaining that his letters were vague as to what he had actually achieved. He seemed to be spending a lot of money, but not one rebel had been challenged. Indeed, the rebels seemed to be enjoying the fact that they could abuse the Queen of England with impunity. She claimed that Devereux seemed to always lay the blame elsewhere, ‘that you are deceived, that you are disgraced from hence in your friends’ fortune, that poor Ireland suffers in you – still exclaiming against the effects of your own causes.’
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Devereux dissipated his troops’ strength in campaigns in the south and west of Ireland, losing many to illness and disastrous engagements, and in the end he was forced to make a truce with the rebel O’Neill rather than beating him in battle. To make matters worse, he took the liberty of conferring a huge number of knighthoods to secure the loyalty of his soldiers, which he was expressly forbidden to do.

By September, the Queen had had enough. She wrote another letter; he had promised so much and done nothing, despite being granted all the men and provisions he requested. She demanded that he write to the Council giving ‘a true declaration of the state to which you have brought our kingdom, and what be the effects which this your lordship’s journey hath produced’.
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The letter finished with a scathing criticism of his last report, in which he must have tried to defend his command: ‘We have received a letter
in form of a cautel [crafty trick], full of challenges [that are impertinent] and of comparisons that are needless, such as hath not been before this time presented to a state, except it hath been done with hope to terrify all men from censuring your proceedings.’
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