Life of Elizabeth I (68 page)

And of course there had to be a scapegoat, for she had to convince her fellow monarchs that her councillors were the ones responsible, not her. She insisted that the warrant should not have been submitted to the Council without her express authorisation, although Davison had quite correctly interpreted her signature on the document as implying just that. But in order to convince James VI that she was not guilty of his mother's death, the Queen accused poor Davison of having acted with impropriety; she refused to heed his explanations, and he was arrested on 14 February, tried in the Star Chamber, and sentenced to a heavy fine and imprisonment in the Tower during the Queen's pleasure. Elizabeth had wanted him hanged, but Burghley persuaded her that such vengeance smacked of tyranny: she must not think 'that her prerogative is above the law'. Beale, who had carried the warrant, was demoted to a junior post in York.

But the world at large was not deceived. 'It is very fine for the Queen of England now to give out that it was done without her wish, the contrary being so clearly the case,' observed Philip II, whose confessor was sternly reminding him that it was his duty to avenge Mary's death.

As Elizabeth had feared, Catholic Europe did indeed revile her for what she had done, and that revulsion expressed itself in virulent pamphlets and tracts, condemning her as a heretic and a Jezebel, and calling down the judgement of God upon her. The Pope called for a new crusade against her, and urged Philip of Spain, now ostentatiously mourning Mary, to invade England at the earliest opportunity. Since it was believed that Mary had bequeathed him her claim to the English succession, he would be justified in doing so. But despite papal efforts to establish otherwise, it soon became apparent that Mary had never actually made a new will naming Philip as her successor. A few Catholics in England, including Jesuit priests, nevertheless persisted in regarding Philip's daughter, the Infanta Isabella, as the rightful Queen of England. The lack of any will did not overly concern Philip, who felt that Mary's execution was sufficient to justify his planned invasion and seizure of the English crown.

To James VI, her 'dear brother', Elizabeth wrote a letter of sympathy, describing his mother's execution as a 'miserable accident which, far contrary to my meaning, hath befallen. I beseech you, that as God and many more know how innocent I am in this case, so you will believe me, that if I had bid aught, I would have abided by it. If I had meant it, I would never lay it on others' shoulders.'

James VI made the noises expected of a cruelly bereaved son, but could not afford to risk alienating Elizabeth, so did nothing beyond issuing a token protest. On 31 March, he declared to his angry nobles 
that he would not jeopardise the Anglo-Scots alliance by seeking to revenge his mother's death, and asserted his belief that Elizabeth's version of events was the true one.

Henry III officially condemned the execution, and there was fury against Elizabeth, 'this bastard and shameless harlot', in Paris, where the English ambassador was barred from the court and dared not show his face on the streets, where black-clad crowds clamoured for Mary's canonisation. But Henry III was faced with too many internal problems to contemplate war with England, and in the end he too lifted no finger against Elizabeth.

On 27 March, the Queen, still upset, commanded that the ten offending councillors appear before the Lord Chancellor, the Lord Chief Justice and Archbishop Whitgift to justify their actions. Burghley, on behalf of them all, protested that Davison had acted within his brief, and that they had all been driven by a desire for Her Majesty's safety. A week later, Walsingham noted that 'Our sharp humours continue here still. The Lord Treasurer remaineth still in disgrace, and behind my back Her Majesty giveth out very hard speeches of myself While Burghley was out of favour, his son Robert Cecil had an opportunity to prove his abilities, supporting Hatton, who, in recognition of his political skill, was sworn in as Lord Chancellor in April, Raleigh replacing him as Captain of the Guard. In May, a still distressed Elizabeth told the French ambassador that Mary's death 'will wring her heart as long as she lives'.

It was May before Burghley was allowed back to court, and even then the Queen 'entered into marvellous cruel speeches' with him, 'calling him traitor, false dissembler and wicked wretch, commanding him to avoid her presence - all about the death of the Scottish Queen'. The old man bided his time, and in June had his reward when Elizabeth invited herself to Theobalds for three weeks - the longest visit she ever spent with him, during which peace was restored and she recovered her equilibrium.

Leicester had also been forgiven, and he and Elizabeth were once again happily bickering about how England should react to the deteriorating situation in the Netherlands. That spring, Philip had ordered Parma to subjugate as much of the Provinces as possible, in 
order to create a springboard for the invasion of England, for which preparations had been stepped up, especially since April, when, with
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Elizabeth's authorisation, Drake had 'singed the King of Spain's beard' by burning thirty-seven Spanish ships in Cadiz harbour, impounding a hundred more at Cape St Vincent, and seizing a huge haul of Spanish treasure off the Azores; thanks to this action, the Armada was unable to set sail that year, but Drake's daring impertinence had made Philip all the more determined to crush the English once and for all. Leicester was 
all for armed intervention in the Netherlands, but the Queen was proving difficult.

After the initial furore over Mary's death had died down, Elizabeth rewarded Paulet by appointing him Chancellor of the Order of the Garter. By April, when it was clear that there were to be no immediate reprisals, heavenly or otherwise, she began to realise that Mary's death had been necessary and justified; above all, it had rid her of the threat of internal rebellion, for the Catholic cause had lost its focus and its claimant to the crown, and nothing now stood in the way of the succession of the Protestant James. Catholics abroad anticipated that their co-religionists in England would look to Philip as their saviour, but they greatly underestimated the loyalty and patriotism of Elizabeth's papist subjects, who identified Philip with the horrors of Mary Tudor's reign, and were as appalled as their mistress's Protestant subjects at the prospect of a Spaniard on the throne.

On 30 July, on the Queen's orders, Mary's coffin was at last taken from Fotheringhay for burial; with the coming of summer, it had become something of a health hazard, giving off such a bad smell that no one wished to enter the room where it was kept. It was brought to Peterborough Cathedral, where it was buried with royal honours and great pomp. In 1612, James I would give orders for his mother's body to be translated to Westminster Abbey, where it was laid to rest in a chapel opposite that in which Elizabeth then lay entombed.

Chapter 22

'Eliza Triumphant'

Leicester, having got his way, sailed back to the Netherlands with 3000 new troops and a fleet of warships on 25 June 1587. Parma, playing for time, at once sued for peace, initiating months of tortuous negotiations.

On 29 July, the Pope signed a treaty with Spain, consenting to Philip nominating whoever he pleased as the ruler of England, so long as that person would agree to restore the Catholic faith. In September, Philip ordered Parma to assemble a fleet of barges for the coming invasion. Aware of the preparations being made, Elizabeth rested her hopes on the outcome of the peace talks, knowing that England was in no position to go to war, having no standing army and only a small navy.

Meanwhile, such serious differences had arisen between the English and their Dutch allies that it seemed the Netherlands might erupt in a civil war, and in the autumn, Leicester, whose own incompetence was largely to blame, advised the Queen that he could be of no further use there. She recalled him on to November. Before he left, he ordered a medal to be struck, bearing the legend, 'I reluctantly leave, not the flock, but the ungrateful ones'.

Back at court, he was dismayed to find that, although the Queen had received him graciously in public, she was much displeased with his failure to unite with her allies and check the Spanish advance. Unable to deal with her reproaches, he retreated to Wanstead, having relinquished the office of Master of the Horse, which he had held for nearly thirty years, and persuaded Elizabeth to bestow it on his stepson Essex.

During Leicester's second absence in the Netherlands, the young Earl of Essex had become closer to the Queen, using his newly-won power to the advantage of the stepfather who had groomed him to boost his own waning influence. Thanks to the affection between the two men, they never became rivals. Elizabeth was fascinated by the young Essex 
and kept him constantly by her, finding his company stimulating. He possessed all the attributes she most admired in men, even though she recognised that he lacked political acumen. All through the summer, he had been observed walking or riding with her, while in the evenings the pair of them could often be seen playing cards or listening to music 'until the birds sing in the morning'.

Essex came from a noble family: the blood of the Plantagenets ran in his veins, and he had adopted Leicester's strict Protestant faith. He was chivalrous, confident and open-handed. He wrote sonnets and stylish, lively letters, and acted well in court masques. In appearance, he was 'very tall', with reddish-brown hair and moustache, and elegantly- formed hands.

Women were susceptible to his charm, his masculinity and his athletic physique, and Elizabeth was no exception, even though she was thirty- three years his senior. This did not, however, preclude the young Earl from paying her extravagant compliments or acting as if he were lovestruck by her charms, which were the kind of attentions on which Elizabeth thrived. She had deliberately fostered the myth that her beauty was indestructible, but now she was becoming hard-pressed to maintain that fiction, having to resort to the increasing use of wigs and cosmetics. But in Essex's company, she appeared to have recovered her lost youth. However, she seems to have regarded him as the son she had never had rather than as a lover or suitor. There is certainly no evidence that she had any real sexual attraction to him, although it may be speculated that, in both looks and character, he reminded her of Thomas Seymour, who had awakened her youthful sexuality.

Yet there was a darker side to Essex. He could be moody, imperious, petulant and difficult, and, when his temper was roused, he tended to be rashly impulsive. He had little sense of self-discipline, and could 'conceal nothing. He carries his love and his hatred on his forehead.' He was 'soft to take offence and hard to lay it down'. A complex man, he appeared to rush through life, but he was also a dreamer who often inhabited a world of his own, being unaware even of what food he was eating and caring little whether his clothes made up a matching suit. He walked with a long stride, with his head aggressively thrust forward. He was as promiscuous as any other of the court gallants, but after casual sex would hasten to church to meditate on God for several hours. And while he loved the dazzle of the court, he often yearned to be at home in the quiet
of
Chartley. Since boyhood, he had been given to attacks of nervous prostration, during which he would lie in bed for days, hot, shaking and melancholy, unable to speak or think rationally.

The egotistical Essex was driven by ambition; he desired to be the leader of the swordsmen, the gallant young bucks of the court, but in 
order to enjoy their extravagant lifestyle, he needed money, and that was one thing he was never to have in plenty. He therefore lived beyond his means, existing in a permanent state of near-bankruptcy, from which the Queen, who could ill afford it, often did her best to bail him out.

The young Earl, full of restless energy, also cherished ambitions to achieve glory in a military sphere. Having been bequeathed Sir Philip Sidney's best sword, he saw himself as Sidney's successor, and was confident that he could lead men and inspire their devotion. There is no doubt that he did have some talent in this field, but he could also be very rash or take too much upon himself 'No man was more ambitious of glory', observed Camden, 'and no man more careless of all things else.'

One person who resented Essex's rise was Raleigh, who had thought to replace the ailing Leicester in the Queen's affections, but whose star was now eclipsed by the new favourite. Raleigh became obsessively jealous, and determined to topple Essex from his present eminence. But when Essex was privileged to be invited into the royal bedchamber to speak with the Queen, Raleigh, on guard outside the door, could only simmer with rage and resentment.

On every possible occasion, he sought to injure his rival. Since her elopement, Essex's sister, Lady Dorothy Perrot, had been barred from the court. But when, in July, the Queen visited the Earl of Warwick's mansion, North Hall, during her progress, Lady Warwick, genuinely believing Elizabeth's anger to have cooled, invited Lady Dorothy to join the guests, along with Essex. Raleigh insinuated to the Queen that Essex had brought his sister because he thought he could get away with showing disrespect towards his sovereign. Elizabeth was so angry that she gave orders that Lady Dorothy was to keep to her room for the duration of the visit.

Mortified, Essex guessed who had been behind this, and after supper, as he sat alone with the Queen and Lady Warwick, with Raleigh eavesdropping outside the door, he defended his sister and accused Elizabeth of having acted hastily 'only to please that knave Raleigh, for whose sake I saw she would disgrace me in the eye of the world' - as he wrote to a friend afterwards.

Much riled, Elizabeth made it obvious that 'she could not endure anything to be spoken against Raleigh, and said there was no cause why I should disdain him. Her words did trouble me so much that, as near as I could, I did describe unto her what he had been and what he was.'