THE LATER YEARS OF QUEEN ELIZABETH.

Every great historic existence has a definite purport; the life of Queen Elizabeth lies in the transactions already recorded, and their results in the change of policy which she brought about.

The issue of the war between the hierarchy, which had once swayed every act and thought of the West, and those who had fallen off from it was not yet decided as long as England with its power vacillated between the two systems. Then this Queen came forward, attaching herself to the new view as by a predetermined destiny; she carried it out in a form answering to the historical institutions of her kingdom, and with an energy by which she at the same time upheld that kingdom's power. It was against her therefore that the hierarchy, when it could renew the contest, mainly directed its most energetic efforts: an author of the period makes those leagued with the Pope against the Queen say to each other, 'come let us kill her, and the inheritance shall be ours.' The chief among these was the mighty King who had himself once ruled England. She maintained a war with this league, in which it was at each moment a question of existence for her. She was assailed with all the weapons of war and of treason; but she adopted corresponding means of defence against every assault: she not only maintained herself, but created in the neighbouring countries a powerful representation of the principle which she had taken up, without pressing the adoption of a form for it exactly like her own. Without her help the church-reformation in Scotland, and at that time in France, would have been probably suppressed, and in the Netherlands it would have never taken actual shape. The Queen is the champion of West-European Protestantism and of all the political growth that was attached to the new faith. She herself expresses her astonishment at her success in this: 'more at the fact,' she says once, 'that I am still alive, than that my enemies would not have me to live.' That Philip effected so little against her, she believes to be due above all to God's justice; for the King attacked her in an unkingly manner while negociations were still going on: she sees in this a proof that an ill beginning leads to a disgraceful end, despite all power and endeavour. 'What was to ruin me, has turned to my glory.'[274]

It is surely the greatest happiness that can be granted to any human being, while defending his own interest, to be maintaining the interests of all. Then his personal existence expands into a central part of the world's history.

That personal and universal interest was likewise a thoroughly English one. Commerce grew amidst arms: the maintenance of internal peace filled the country with wellbeing and riches; palaces were seen rising where before only huts had stood: as the philosophic Bacon remarks, England now won her natural position in the world.

Elizabeth was one of those sovereigns who have beforehand formed an idea for themselves as to the duties of government. Four qualities, she says once, seemed to her necessary for it: justice and self-control, highmindedness and judgment; she might pride herself on the two first: never in a case of equal rights had she favoured one person more than another: never had she believed a first report, but waited for fuller knowledge: the two others she would not claim for herself, for they were men's virtues. But the world ascribed a high degree of these very virtues to her. Men descried her subtle judgment in the choice of her servants, and the directing them to the services for which they were best fitted. Her high heart was seen in her despising small advantages, and in her unshaken tranquillity in danger. While the storm was coming on from Spain, no cloud was seen on her brow: by her conduct she animated nobles and people, and inspirited her councillors. Men praised her for two things, for zealous participation in deliberation and for care in seeing that what was decided on was carried into effect.[275]

But we may not look for an ideal female ruler in Queen Elizabeth. No one can deny the severities which were practised under her government even with her knowledge. The systematic hypocrisy imputed to her may seem an invention of her enemies or of historians not thoroughly informed; she herself declares truthfulness a quality indispensable for a prince; but in her administration, as well as in that of most other rulers, reasonings appear which rather conceal the truth than express it; in each of her words, and in every step she took, we perceive a calculation of what is for her advantage; she displays striking foresight and even a natural subtlety. Elizabeth was very accessible to flattery, and as easily attracted by an agreeable exterior as repelled by slight accidental defects; she could break out at a word that reminded her of the transitory nature of human affairs or of her own frailty: vanity accompanied her from youth to those advancing years, which she did not wish to remark or to think were remarked. She liked to ascribe successes to herself, disasters to her ministers: they had to take on themselves the hatred felt against disagreeable or doubtful regulations, and if they did not do this quite in unison with her mood, they had to fear her blame and displeasure. She was not free from the fickleness of her family: but on the other hand she displayed also the amiable attention of a female ruler: as when once during a speech she was making in a learned language to the learned men of Oxford, on seeing the Lord Treasurer standing there with his lame foot, she suddenly broke off, ordered a chair to be brought him, and then continued; indeed it was said she at the same time wished to let it be remarked that no accident could discompose her. As Harrington, who knew her from personal acquaintance, expresses himself: her mind might be sometimes compared to a summer morning sky, beneficent and refreshing: then she won the hearts of all by her sweet and modest speech. But she was repellent in the same degree in her excited state, when she paced to and fro in her chamber, anger in every look, rejection in every word: men hastened out of her way. Among other correspondence we learn to know her from that with King James of Scotland,—one side of her political relations, to which we shall return:—how does every sentence express a mental and moral superiority as well as a political one! not a superfluous word is there: all is pith and substance. From care for him and intelligent advice she passes to harsh blame and most earnest warning: she is kind and sharp, friendly and rough, but almost ever more repellent and unsparing than mild. Never had any sovereign a higher idea of his dignity, of the independence belonging to him by the laws of God and man, of the duty of obedience binding on all subjects. She prides herself on no external consideration influencing her resolutions, threats or fear least of all; when once she longs for peace, she insists on its not being from apprehension of the enemy, but only from abhorrence of bloodshed. The action of life does not develop merely the intellectual powers: between success and failure, in conflict and effort and victory, the character moulds itself and acquires its ruling tone. Her immense good fortune fills her with unceasing self-confidence, which is at the same time sustained by trust in the unfailing protection of Providence.[276] That she, excommunicated by the Pope, maintains herself against the attacks of half the world, gives her whole action and nature a redoubled impress of personal energy. She does not like to mention her father or her mother: of a successor she will not hear a word. The feeling of absolute possession is predominant in her appearance. It is noticeable how on festivals she moves in procession through her palace: in front are nobles and knights in the costume of their order, with bared heads; next the bearers of the insignia of royalty, the sceptre, the sword, and the great seal: then the Queen herself in a dress covered with pearls and precious stones; behind her ladies, brilliant in their beauty and rich attire: to one or two, who are presented to her, she reaches out her hand to kiss as she goes by in token of favour, till she arrives at her chapel, where the assembled crowd hails her with a 'God save the Queen,' she returning them thanks with gracious words. Elizabeth received the whole reverence, once more unbounded, which men paid to the supreme power. The meats of which she was to eat were set on the table with bended knee, even when she was not present. It was on their knees that men were presented to her.[277]

Between a sovereign like this and her Parliament points of contention could not be wanting. The Commons claimed the privilege of absolute freedom of speech, and repeatedly attacked the abuses which still remained in the episcopal Church, and the injurious monopolies which profited certain favoured persons. The Queen had members of the Lower House imprisoned for speeches disagreeable to her: she warned them not to interfere in the affairs of the Church, and even not in those of the State, and declared it to be her prerogative to summon and dissolve Parliament at her pleasure, to accept or reject its measures. But with all this she still did not on the other hand conceal that, in reference to the most important affairs of State, she had to pay regard to the tone of the two Houses: however much she might be loved, yet men's minds are easily moved and not thoroughly trustworthy. In its forms Parliament studied to express the devotion which the Queen claimed as Queen and Lady, while she tried to make amends for acts by which the assembly had been previously offended: for statements of grievances, as in the instance of the monopolies, she even thanked them, as for a salutary reminder. A French ambassador remarks in 1596 that the Parliament in ages gone by had great authority, but now it did all the Queen wished. Another who arrived in 1597 is not merely astonished at its imposing exterior, but also at the extent of its rights. Here, says he, the great affairs are treated of, war and peace, laws, the needs of the community and the mode of satisfying them.[278] The one statement is perhaps as true as the other. The solution of the contradiction depends on this, that Queen and Parliament were united as to the general relations of the country and the world. The Queen, as is self-evident, could not have ruled without the Parliament: from the beginning of her government she supported herself by it in the weightiest affairs; but a simple consideration teaches us how much on the other hand Parliament owed precisely to that introduction into these great questions, which the Queen thought advisable. They avoided, and were still able to avoid, any enquiry into their respective rights and the boundaries of those rights. And besides Elizabeth guarded herself from troubling her Parliament too much by demands for money. She has been often blamed for her economy which sometimes became inconvenient in public affairs: as in most cases, nature and policy here also coincided. That she was sparing of money, and once was actually in a condition to decline a grant offered her, gave the administration an independence of any momentary moods of Parliament, which suited her whole nature, and without this might have been easily lost.

William Cecil, Lord Burleigh, her treasurer, as economical as herself, was likewise her first minister. He had assisted her with striking counsel even before her accession, and since lived and moved in her administration of the state. He was one of those ministers who find their calling in a boundless industry,—he needed little sleep, long banquets were not to his taste:[279] never was he seen inactive even for half an hour; he kept notes of everything great and small; business accompanied him even to his chamber, and to his retirement at S. Theobald's. His anxious thoughts were visible in his face, as he rode on his mule along the roads of the park; he only lost sight of them for a moment when he was sitting at table among his growing children: then his heavy eyebrows cleared up, light merriment even came from his lips. Every other charm of life lay far from him: for poetry and poets he had no taste, as Spenser was once made to feel: in literature he patronised only what was directly useful; he recommended no one except for his being serviceable. Magnanimous he was not; he was content with being able to say to himself, that he drew no advantage from any one's ill fortune. He was designated even then as the man who set the English state in motion: this he always denied, and sought his praise in the fact that he carried out the views of the Queen, as she adopted them after hearing the plans proposed or even after respectful remonstrances. He had to bear many a slander: most of the reproaches made against him he brought himself to endure quietly: but if, he said, it could be proved against him that he neglected the Queen's interest, the war against Spain, and the support of the Netherlands, then he was willing to become liable to eternal blame. He was especially effective also through a moral quality—he never lost heart. It was remarked that he worked with the greatest alacrity when others were most doubtful. For he too had an absolute confidence in the cause which he defended. When the enemies' fortune stood highest, he was heard to say with great tranquillity, 'they can do no more than God will allow.'[280]

By the side of this pilot of the state, Robert Dudley, who was promoted to be Earl of Leicester, drew all eyes on himself as the leading man at court. Burleigh was looked on as Somerset's creation, Dudley was the youngest son of the Earl of Northumberland: for it was of advantage to Elizabeth, especially at first, to unite around her important representatives of the two parties which had composed her brother's government. One motive for her attachment to Leicester is said to have been the fact that he was born on the same day, and at the very same hour with herself: who at that time would not have believed in the ruling influence of the stars? But, besides this, the Earl dazzled by a fine person, attractive manners, and an almost irresistible charm of disposition. The confidential intimacy which Elizabeth allowed him caused scandalous rumours, probably without ground; for if they had been true, Leicester, who had his father's ambition, would have played a very different part. Elizabeth heard of them; she once actually brought a foreign ambassador into her apartments, to convince him how utterly impossible it would be for her to see any one whatever without witnesses; she censured a foreign writer for letting himself be deceived by a groundless rumour, but she would not on this account dismiss the favourite from court. She liked to have him about her, and to receive his homage which had a tinge of chivalry in it: his devotion satisfied a need of her heart. He could not however take any power to himself which would infringe on her own supreme authority; once, when such a case occurred, she reminded him that he was not in exclusive possession of her favour: she could bestow it on whom she would, and again recall it; at court, she exclaimed, there should be no Master, but only a Mistress.[281] Neither did Leicester display great mental gifts: in the campaigns of the Netherlands he did not at all answer even the moderate expectations that had been formed of him. If the Queen nevertheless put him at the head of her troops when the Spanish danger threatened, this was because he possessed her absolute personal confidence.

With Leicester the Sidneys were most closely allied. Henry Sidney, his sister's husband, introduced civilisation and monarchic institutions into Wales, and was selected to extend them in Ireland. In his son Philip the English ideal of noble culture seemed to have realised itself; he combined a very remarkable literary power peculiar to himself, and talents suited for the society of men of the world (which well fitted him for the duties of an ambassador), with disinterested kindness to others, and a chivalrous courage in war, which gained him universal admiration both at home and in presence of the enemy.

Leicester's good word is also said to have opened an entrance to court for young Walter Ralegh and to have promoted his first successes. Ralegh combined in his own person the aspirations of the age in a most vivid manner. He was ambitious, fond of show, with high aims, deeply engaged in the factions of the court; but at the same time he had a spirit of noble enterprise, was ingenious and thoughtful. In everything new that was produced in the region of discoveries and inventions, of literature and art, he played the part of a fellow worker: he lived in the circle of universal knowledge, its problems and its progress. In his appearance he had something that announced a man of superior mind and nature.

Around Cecil were grouped the statesmen who had been promoted by him, and worked in sympathy with him: for instance Bacon the Keeper of the Seals, whom the Queen regarded as the oracle of the laws, and who also amused her by many a witty word; Mildmay, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, who though adhering to the principles now adopted yet gladly favoured the claims of Parliament, and even the tendencies of the Puritans; Francis Walsingham, Secretary of State, who had once suffered exile for his Protestantism and now supported it after his return with all the resources of the administration; it is said of him that he heard in London what was whispered in the ear at Rome; he met the crafty Jesuits with a network of secret counter-action which extended over the world; there has never been a man who more vigilantly and unrelentingly hunted down religious and political conspiracies; to pay his agents, in choosing whom he was not too particular, he expended his own property. Cecil and Bacon had married two daughters of that Antony Cooke, who had once taken part in Edward VI's education: the other sisters, wedded to Hobby and Killigrew, men who were engaged in the most important embassies, extended the connexion of these statesmen. Walsingham was allied by marriage with Mildmay, and with Randolph the active ambassador in Scotland.

Once the Queen brought a man among them, who owed his rise only to her being pleased with his person and conversation, which likewise brought her much ill repute:[282] she promoted her vice-chamberlain Christopher Hatton to be Lord Chancellor of England. The lawyers made loud and bitter complaints of this disregard of their claims and their order. Hatton had however been long on good terms with the leading statesmen: in all the late questions of difficulty as to Mary Stuart's trial he had held firm to them. His nephew and heir soon after married a granddaughter of Burleigh.

The Queen's own relations on the mother's side had always some influence with her. Francis Knolles who had married into this family, and was appointed by the Queen treasurer of her household, won himself a good name with his contemporaries and with posterity by his religious zeal and openness of heart. A still more important figure in this circle is Thomas Sackville, who is also named with honour among the founders of English literature; the part of the 'Mirror for Magistrates' which was due to him witnesses to an original conception of the dark sides of man's existence, and to a creative imagination. But the poet likewise did excellent service to his sovereign: he makes his appearance when an important treaty is to be concluded, or the people are to be called on to defend the country, or even when any agitation is feared in the troubles at home. He was selected to inform the Queen of Scots that the sentence of death had been pronounced on her. He is the Lord Buckhurst from whom the dukes of Dorset are descended.

The distinguished family to which Anne Boleyn belonged, and which had such an important influence on her rise, that of the Howards, proved in its elder branch as little loyal to the daughter as it had once been to the mother. On the other hand Elizabeth had experienced the attachment of the younger line, that of Effingham, and had since repaid it with manifold favours. From this branch came the Admiral, who commanded the sea-force in the decisive attacks on the Spanish Armada. We know that he was not himself a great seaman; but he understood enough of the matter to enable him to avail himself of those who understood more than he did. The Queen looked on him as the man marked out by Providence for the defence of herself and of the country.

General Norris, who gained reputation for the English arms on the continent by the side of Henry IV, was also related to her though more distantly: besides this, she wished to repay him for the good treatment she had formerly received in her distress from his grandfather.

How predominantly the personal element once more manifests itself in this administration! As the Queen's own interest is also that of all, those who belong to her family or have won her favour and done her essential service, are the chiefs of the State and the leaders in war. The royal patronage extended this influence over the Church and the universities. But we find it no less in all other branches. Sir Thomas Gresham, the Queen's agent in money-matters, was the founder of the Exchange of London, to which she at his request gave the name of the Royal Exchange.

In literature also we see the traces of her taste and her influence. Owing to the tone of good society the classics were studied by every one. The higher education was directed to them, as indeed the Queen herself found in them refreshment and food for the mind: many classical authors were translated, and the forms of the old poets revived or imitated. The Italians and Spaniards, who had led the way in similar attempts, further awoke the emulation of the English. In Edmund Spenser, in whom the spirit of the age shows itself most vividly, we constantly meet with imitations of the Latin or Italian poets, which here and there aspire to be paraphrastic translations, and may be inferior to his originals, even to the modern ones, in delicacy of drawing, since he purposely selected their most successful passages: yet how thoroughly different a spirit do his works breathe in their total effect! What in the Italians is a play of fancy is in him a deep moral earnestness. The English nation has an inestimable possession in these works of a moral and religious grandeur, and a simple view of nature, which happily expressed in single stanzas stamp themselves on every man's memory. Spenser has assigned to allegory, as a style, a larger sphere than perhaps belongs to it, and one allegory is always interweaving itself with another; the heroes whom he takes from the old romances become to him representatives of the different virtues, but he possesses such an original power of vivid representation that even in this form he gains the reader's interest. But, if we ask what is the main thing which he celebrates, we find that it is precisely the course of the great war in which his nation is engaged against the Papacy and the Spaniards. The Faery Queen is his sovereign, whose figure under the manifold symbols of the qualities which she possessed, or which were ascribed to her, is always coming forward afresh in his verse. With wonderful power Elizabeth united around her all the aspiring minds and energies of the nation.

Not a few of the productions of the time have so strong an infusion of reverence for the Queen that we cannot help smiling: but it is true nevertheless that at her court the language formed itself, and all great aspirations found their central point. Elizabeth's statesmen, who had to deal with a Parliament that could not be led by mere authority, studied the rules of eloquence in the models of antiquity, and made their doctrines their own. On their table Quintilian lay by the side of the Statutes.

The Queen, who loved the theatre and declared it a national institution by a proclamation, made it possible for Shakespeare to develop himself; his roots lie deep in this epoch, he represents its manners and mode of life: but he spreads far out beyond it. We shall return to him in a more suitable place than this, in which we are treating of the Queen's influence.

It would contradict the nature of human affairs were we to expect that the general point of view, which swayed the State as a whole, could have induced every one who took part in its administration to move on to their common aim in one way. Of the great nobles of the court many rather supported the Puritans, as indeed the father of the Puritan Cartwright owed his position at Warwick to Leicester's protection; others inclined to favour the Catholics. The severity which the bishops thought themselves bound to exercise met with opposition among the leading statesmen: and to these again the soldiers were opposed. It was a society full of life, and highly gifted, but for that very reason in continual ferment and internal conflict.

We have still to grasp clearly the event in which these antagonisms and the Queen's temperament yet once more led to a great catastrophe.

The aged Burleigh, who had provoked the war with Spain, wished also to end it. From his past experience he concluded that he could not inflict any decisive blow on the Spanish monarchy, which still displayed a vast power of resistance; in 1597 it could again offer a high price for peace. The Spaniards, who had taken Calais from the French by a sudden attack, offered the Queen the restoration of this old English possession in exchange for the strong places in the Netherlands, entrusted to her in pledge.[283] For the Netherlands no other provision would have been thus made than was proposed in 1587: but England would have again won as strong a position on the Continent as it had before, and would have established its rule over the neighbouring seas: an open commerce would have been re-established, and Ireland freed from the hostile influence of the Spaniards: the Queen would have enjoyed peace in her advancing years. Burleigh saw as it were the conclusion of his life in this: he said that, if God granted him a good agreement with Spain, his soul would depart with joy.

But for this policy he could not possibly get the approval of the young, whose ambitious hopes were connected with the continuance of the war. They measured the power of the country by their own thirst for action. If the Queen, so they said, would only not do everything by halves and not follow her secretaries so much, she could, especially now she had the Dutch as allies, tear the Spanish monarchy in pieces. How could they fail, with some effort, in occupying the Isthmus of Panama? And then they would at one blow deprive the monarchy of all its resources. And above all, the man who then played the most brilliant part at court, Robert Devereux Earl of Essex, was of this opinion. He was Leicester's stepson, introduced by him at court, and after his death his successor as it were in the Queen's favour. An attractive manly appearance, blooming youth, chivalrous manners, won him all hearts from the very first. With the Queen he entered into that rare relation, in which favour on the one side and homage on the other took the hues of mutual inclination, and even passion.

What Essex's idea of it was he once revealed at a dramatic festivity which he arranged for the Queen in honour of her accession. There he made a hermit, an officer of state, and a soldier come forward and address their exhortations to an esquire who was intended to represent himself. By the first the knight was desired to give up all feelings of love, by the second to devote his powers to State affairs, by the third to apply himself to war. The answer is: the knight cannot give up his passion for his lady, since she animates all his thoughts with divine fire, teaches him true policy, and at the same time qualifies him to lead an army. Essex had taken part in some campaigns of Henry IV, and afterwards commanded the squadron which was in possession of the harbour of Cadiz for a moment, but without being able to hold it: he also failed in another enterprise which was planned to seize the plate-fleet; but this did not prevent him from evermore designing fresh and comprehensive plans. His view in this matter he also once represented dramatically.[284] He brought forward a native American prince who utters the wish to be freed from the Castilians and their oppressive rule: an oracle refers him to the Queen whose kingdom lies between the old and the new world, and who is naturally inclined to come to the aid of all the oppressed. The negociations for peace were wrecked mainly through their inherent difficulties: the Spaniards however had no hesitation in ascribing the ill result to the influence of the Queen's favourite, who had been won over by the King of France.[285] But the war could not after this be waged on the grand scale contemplated, because Henry IV himself now concluded peace, which freed the hands of the Spaniards to act against England, and even awoke once more their ideas of an invasion.

Under the double influence of English oppression and the instigation of both Spain and Rome a revolt broke out in Ireland, in which the English suffered a defeat on the Blackwater, which is designated as the greatest mishap they had ever suffered in that island. Ulster, Connaught, and Leinster were in arms: their chief, Tyrone, who had learnt war in the English service, came forward as The O'Neil, and was already recognised by the Pope as sovereign of Ulster; the Irish reckoned on Spanish assistance, either in Ireland itself, or through an attack on England. Priests and Jesuits fed the Irish with hopes that this time they would free themselves, and destroy the very memory of the English rule.

The Queen decided, in order to keep her hold on the island, to send over an unusually strong armament of horse and foot: and Essex, who had always been the loudest in blaming the errors of previous commanders, could not avoid at last himself undertaking its direction, though he did not do it with complete alacrity.

Though Burleigh was dead, his son Robert Cecil nevertheless maintained himself in possession of the secretaryship of state and was at the head of his father's old friends, joined as they were by others who were not indeed his friends but were enemies of Essex. It was unwillingly that Essex quitted the court and thus left the field open to them: especially as his personal relation to the Queen was no longer what it had been of old. Aspiring by nature, supported by the good opinion of the people (on which his grand appearance and his bold spirit of enterprise had made much impression), and by the devotion of brave officers who were ready to follow him in any undertaking by land or sea, he presumed to desire to be something for himself. He wished to be no longer absolutely dependent on the nod of his mistress. The story goes that she once, in a violent passion at his disrespectful conduct, gave him a box on the ear, and that he laid his hand on his sword. Even in his letters expressions indicating resistance break through his declarations of submission. His friends indeed advised him to return to absolute obedience: then the Queen would raise the man whom she honoured above all others. He rejected this advice because he held that the Queen was a woman, from whom one gets nothing but by superior authority. It almost appears as though he thought he might obtain such an authority by the Irish war.

But he found this expedition far harder than he had expected. Previously he had always said that the great rebel, Tyrone, must be tracked to Ulster, where were the roots of his power, and conquered there: then the rest of the country would return to obedience of itself. How great was the astonishment when he now nevertheless began with a march into Munster and Leinster, in which he wasted his resources without obtaining any great success! He maintained that the Privy Council of Ireland had urged him on to this: its members denied it. At last the campaign to the North was undertaken: but in this region the Irish were found to have the complete superiority: the Queen's newly-levied troops on the other hand were neither adapted, nor quite willing, to venture on a decisive action: the officers signed a protest against it: and Essex saw himself obliged to enter into negociations with Tyrone.

The conditions which that chief demanded in return for his submission are exceedingly comprehensive: complete freedom of the Catholic church under the Pope, and a transfer of the dignities of state to the natives, so that only a viceroy, who should always belong to the high nobility, was to come from England: the chief Irish families were to be restored to their old possessions, and freed from the most oppressive laws, for instance that of wardship; and the Irish were to be allowed free trade with England.[286] These stipulations would have promised a free development to the Irish nation, and made the yoke of England exceedingly light. Essex accepted them, because the Spaniards were just now threatening an attack on England, and Tyrone could only be separated from them on these conditions; even then Tyrone begged that for the present they might be kept a profound secret, that he might not quarrel with the Spaniards too soon.

But how could such comprehensive concessions be expected from the proud Queen? How could her counsellors, who always preferred direct negociation with Spain, have accepted them?

The idea occurred to the Earl of Essex to return to England with a part of his troops, and at their head enforce the acceptance of his treaty, after which he would throw himself with all his might into the Spanish war. And without doubt this would have been the only way to carry out his plan, and become altogether master of the government.

But it was represented to him that this looked exactly like an attempt at rebellion. Essex was induced to give it up, and make everything yet once more depend on the influence which he was confident he could exercise on the Queen by appearing in person. Even this however was a great risk: he not merely had no leave to do so, but it had been expressly forbidden him just previously: he thought it however the only way of obtaining his end. Without even having announced his departure to the Queen, he suddenly appeared with slight attendance at Nonsuch, her country house.[287] He dismounted before the door, and did not even take time to change his dress: as he was, with the dust of the journey on his face and clothes, he hastened to the Queen: that he did not find her in the reception-room did not check him; he rushed on into her chamber, where he entered without being announced, and kissed her hand: her hair was still flying about her face. At the first moment she received him graciously—in a couple of hours he might see her again: when he returned to her at table, she began to reproach him. From minute to minute the Queen predominated in her over the friend: by evening his arrest was announced to him.

Already by his conduct in Ireland Essex had supplied food for the slander of his enemies: how much more must this have been the case through his self-willed return! As he was fond of tracing his descent from royal blood, he was accused of even aspiring to the throne, after the example of Bolingbroke: for this purpose he had leagued himself with Tyrone and the Irish grandees, whose loyalty he praised notwithstanding their revolt. We can say with certainty that the views of the Earl of Essex never went so far. In the question as to the Queen's successor, which occupied every one, he had taken his side for the rights of the King of Scotland: he imputed to his enemies the design of favouring on the other hand the claim of the Infant of Spain (which was at that time put forward in all seriousness in a book much read) with the view of purchasing peace by his recognition. He assigned, as the motive for his conduct, his inability to endure the atheists, papists, and Spanish partisans in the Queen's council: as a Christian he could not possibly look on while religion perished, and as an Englishman he would not stand aloof while his fatherland was being ruined.[288] He had never wished to be anything else than a subject—but 'only of his Queen, not the underling of an unworthy and low vassal.' So far as men saw, he stood in connexion with both the parties opposed to the prevailing system. He was prayed for in the churches of the Puritans: Cartwright was one of his friends; the Scotch doctrine, that the Supreme Power, if it showed itself negligent in matters of religion, could be compelled by those immediately under it to take them in hand, is said to have been preached with reference to him. As Earl Marshal of England, Essex indeed thought he possessed an independent right of interference. But the mitigation of the ecclesiastical laws would also have benefited the Catholics; and it was among them that he had perhaps the most decided allies. If we might combine his views into a whole, they were directed towards raising the natives of America against Spain, at the same time that by toleration both in England and Ireland he united all patriots in the war against that power, in which he discerned that the chief interest of the nation lay.

Essex remained a long while in the custody of the Keeper of the Seal, who was favourably disposed towards him; then he was sentenced by the Star Chamber not to exercise any longer his high offices as member of the Privy Council, as Earl Marshal, and Master of the Ordnance, and to live as a prisoner in his own house during the Queen's pleasure. He seemed to reconcile himself to this fate, and behaved modestly for a considerable time: he was still flattering himself with the hope of regaining his sovereign's favour, when a monopoly was withdrawn from him which formed the chief part of his income. This new victory of his enemies was intolerable to him: he would not let himself be brought so low by them as to be forced to live like a poor knight, without influence and independence. The thought occurred to him that, if he could but see the Queen once more, he might effect a change in his own destiny and in that of England. The popularity he enjoyed in the capital, the continued attachment of his old companions in arms, the friendship of some considerable nobles, allowed him to entertain the hope that he could attain this in despite of those around her, could make himself master of the palace, and force her to summon a Parliament—in which the change of government and the succession of the King of Scotland should be alike confirmed. Essex was no longer the blooming man of times past, he was seen moving along with his neck bowed down, but he still had his mind fixed on wide-ranging and ambitious thoughts: from his youth up elevated by good fortune and favour, he held everything possible which he set his hand to do. On the 8th February 1601 an armed band assembled at his house under certain lords; the Keeper of the Seal and his attendant, whom the Queen despatched in order to inform herself of the cause of the agitation, were detained. Essex dared to march through the capital with his armed men, in order to raise it on his behalf. He reckoned on the desertion of the city militia to him, and the connivance of the city magistrates; but instead of finding support he only excited astonishment. No one stirred in his favour. He was scarcely able—for royal troops were soon in arms against him—to make his way back to his house: there was nothing left for him but to surrender at discretion.

At his trial the principle, which had already had so much weight in the proceedings against Mary Stuart, was expressly stated, that every attempt at rebellion must be looked on as directed against the life of the reigning sovereign.[289] A crisis had occurred which obliged Elizabeth to execute the man for whom among all men living she cherished the deepest and warmest feeling, just as formerly she had been forced to condemn one of the grandees connected with her by blood, and then her sister Queen of equal rights with herself—all of them for traitorous attempts against her government and person. She said she would gladly have saved Essex, but she was forced to let the laws of England take their course.

Essex is to be compared with his contemporary Biron in so far as they both rebelled against sovereigns with whom they had stood in the closest relations. In both it was mainly injured self-esteem which goaded them on. As Biron had a portion of the lower French nobility for him, so Essex had the soldiers by profession and the officers of the army to a great extent on his side: they both appealed once more to religious antipathies. But above all they thought of again making room for the old independence of the warlike nobles: they both succumbed to the authority of the firmly-rooted power of the state.

At that time there were fresh negociations going on for a peace between Spain and England; but they could as little now as before agree on the great subjects in dispute, the question of the Netherlands, and the interests of commerce, which at the same time involved points of religion. And the Spaniards broke off negotiations all the more readily, as exaggerated rumours of Essex's conspiracy resounded everywhere, making a revolt in England appear possible. They then instantly thought of a landing in an English harbour, and this the Catholics promised to support with considerable bodies of horse and foot. In Ireland, where the refusal of the concessions held out to them by Essex revived the national enmities, the Spaniards really effected a landing: under Don Juan d'Aguilar they occupied Kinsale: and hoped not merely to become masters of Ireland but to cross from thence to their friends' assistance in England.

Hence Queen Elizabeth, who perceived the connexion of these hostilities, now reverted to the necessity of carrying on the war again on a larger scale. Her view was chiefly directed to a new enterprise against Portugal: its separation from Castile she held to be the greatest European success that was possible: but she hoped to bring about a change in Italy as well: there Venice was to attack the nearest Spanish territories. When she called the Venetians to aid—among other things she wished also to obtain a loan from the government—she put them in mind how much her resistance to the Spanish monarchy had benefited the European commonwealth: hence it was that Spain had been prevented from carrying out her tyrannical views throughout the world, in the Netherlands and in Germany, in France and Italy; the Republic, which loved freedom, would recognise this. Elizabeth thought to resume the war, if possible, at the head of all that part of Europe which was opposed to Spain, and in league with Henry IV, with whom she negociated on this subject. In the beginning of 1603 a squadron was fitted out under Sir Richard Lawson to attack the coasts of the Pyrenean peninsula. Men discussed the comparative forces which the two kingdoms could bring into the field.

But the Queen's days were already drawing to a close.

In February 1603 the Venetian secretary Scaramelli had an audience of her, and gives a report of it from which we see that she still completely preserved her wonted demeanour. He found the whole court, the leading ecclesiastics and the temporal dignitaries, assembled around her: they had been entertained with music. When he entered, the Queen rose in her usual rich attire, with a diadem of precious stones, almost encircled with pearls: rubies hung from her neck; and in her mien no one could detect any decay of her powers. 'It is time at last,' she said to the secretary, who wished to throw himself on his knees before her, while she raised him with both hands, 'it is time at last for the Republic to send its representative to a Queen by whom it has been always honoured.' The letter of the Republic was handed to her, and she gave it to the Secretary of State; after he had opened it and given it back to her again, she sat down to read it: it contained a complaint that Venetian ships had been seized by the English privateers, who then made all seas unsafe. The English nation, she then said, is not so small but that evil and thievish men may be found in it: while she promised enquiry and justice, she nevertheless reverted to her main point that she had received nothing from the republic during the forty-four years of her government but grievances and demands,—even the loan had been refused;—Venice had hitherto, contrary to her custom, not sent any embassy to her; not, she thought, because she was a woman, but through fear of other powers. Scaramelli answered that no temporal or even spiritual sovereign had any influence on the Republic in such matters; he ascribed the neglect to circumstances which no one could control. The Queen broke off: I do not know, she added, whether I have expressed myself in good Italian: I learned the language as a child, and think I have not forgotten it. After that serious address she again seemed gracious, and gave the secretary her hand to kiss, when she dismissed him. The next day commissioners were appointed to enquire into his grievances.[290]

At that time the affairs of Ireland were once more occupying the Queen. The Spaniards had been compelled by Lord Mountjoy to leave the island; he had beaten them together with the Irish in a decisive action: but, despite his victory, many further conflicts took place, and the rebellion was not suppressed; Tyrone still maintained himself in the hills and woods of Ulster; and, as a return of the Spaniards was feared, Mountjoy too was at last disposed to come to an agreement with him. The Queen was in her inmost soul against this, for only fresh rebellions would be occasioned by it; she required an absolute surrender at discretion: if she once allowed the rebels to have their lives secured to them, she soon after retracted the concession. She even spoke of wishing to go to Ireland, in person; the impression produced by her presence would put an end to all revolt.

But at this moment a sudden alteration was remarked in her: she no longer appeared at the festivities before Lent, which went off in an insignificant style. At first her seclusion was explained by the death of one of her ladies whom she loved, the Countess of Nottingham: but soon it could not be concealed that the Queen herself was seized with a dangerous illness: sleep and appetite began to fail her: she showed a deep melancholy. 'No,' she replied to one of the kinsmen of her mother's house, Robert Cary, who at that moment had come back to court and addressed friendly words to her about her health, 'No Robin, well I am not, my heart has been for some time oppressed and heavy;' she broke off with painful groans and sighing, hitherto unwonted in her, now no longer suppressed. It was manifest that mental distress accompanied the bodily decay.[291]

Who has not heard of the ring which Elizabeth is said to have once given to the Earl of Essex with the promise that, if it were presented to her, she would show him mercy, whatever might have occurred: he had, so the tale runs, in his last distresses wished to send it her through the Countess of Nottingham: but she was prevented from giving it by her husband who was an enemy of Essex, and so he had to die without mercy: the Queen, to whom the Countess revealed this on her death bed, fell into despair over it. The ring is still shown, and indeed several rings are shown as the true one: as also the tradition itself is extant in two somewhat varying forms; attempts have been made to get rid of the improbabilities of the first by fresh fictions in the second.[292] They are both so late, and rest so completely on hearsay, that they can no longer stand before historical criticism.

Nevertheless we cannot deny, as the reports in fact testify in several places, that the remembrance of Essex weighed on the Queen's soul. It must certainly have reminded her of him, that she was now brought back exactly to the course he had insisted on, namely a friendly agreement with the invincible Irish chief. She had allowed less imperious, more compliant, declarations to reach Ireland. But was the man a traitor, who had recommended a policy to which they had been forced to have recourse after such repeated efforts? Had he deserved his fate at her hands?[293] It was remarked that the anniversary of the day on which Essex two years before had suffered on the scaffold, Ash Wednesday, thrilled through her with heart-rending pain; the world seemed to her desolate, since he was no longer there; she imputed his guilt to the ambition, against which she had warned him, and which had misled him into steps, from the consequences of which she could not protect him. But had she not herself uttered the decisive word? She burst into self-accusing tears. Her distress may have been increased by finding that her statesmen no longer showed her the old devotion, the earlier absolute obedience. When they, as we know, had framed a formal theory for themselves, that they might act against an express command of the Queen, on the assumption of her general intention being directed to the public good, could the sharp-sighted, suspicious, sovereign fail to perceive it? Could she fail to remark the agitation as to her successor, which occupied all men's minds, while the reins were slipping from her hands? The people, on whose devotion she had from the first moment laid so much stress, and partly based her government, seemed after Essex' death to have become cold towards her.

In every great life there comes a moment when the soul feels that it no longer lives in the present world, and draws back from it.

Once more Elizabeth had the English Liturgy read in her room: there she sat afterwards day and night on the cushions with which it was covered, in deep silence, her finger on her mouth: she rejected physic with disdain.[294] Most said and believed she did not care to recover or to live any longer, that she wished to die. When she was at last got to bed, and had a moment left of consciousness and interest in the world, she had the members of her Privy Council summoned: she then either said to them directly that she held the King of Scotland to be her lawful and deserving successor, or she designated him in a way that left no doubt.[295]

Amidst the prayers of the Archbishop of Canterbury, who was kneeling by her bed, she breathed her last.

It is not merely the business of History to point out how far great personages have attained the ideals which float before the mind of man, or how far they have remained below them. It is almost more important for it to ascertain how far the universal interests, in the midst of which eminent characters appear, have been advanced by them, whether their inborn force was a match for the opposing elements, whether it allowed itself to be conquered by them or not. There never was a sovereign who maintained a conflict of world-wide importance amidst greater dangers and with greater success than Queen Elizabeth. Her grandfather had begun a political emancipation from the ruling influences of the continent, her father an ecclesiastical one: Elizabeth took up their task and accomplished it victoriously against Rome and against Spain, while her people had an ever-increasing part in public affairs, and thus entered into a new stage of development. Her memory is inseparably connected with the independence and power of England.