by Jean Plaidy
He was something of a reformer. For instance, he told me frankly that I had been wrong in my treatment of Davison. He should not be in the Tower, he said. It was not due to him that Mary of Scotland had been executed. That specter still bothered me and I did not want to think of Davison. I could not bear to hear any speak his name—so no one ever did in my hearing. Essex knew this and yet he came to me and said that Davison should be released and given the post of Secretary of State which had become vacant on the death of Walsingham. He was such a reckless, foolhardy young man, I trembled for him. I discovered later that he had written to James of Scotland asking him to use his influence in the matter. Did he not realize that at any time his enemies could accuse him of being in communication with a foreign power, which could be made to look like treason?
I have to admit that he almost persuaded me. I did feel guilty about the treatment meted out to Davison. I should have liked to make amends; and the post of Secretary of State, which he was quite capable of holding, would have been a compensation for the injustice he had suffered.
I spoke to Burghley about this. He was against the idea. He did not think Davison could hold the post. He was efficient but not brilliant. I tried to argue in Davison's favor until I realized that Burghley wanted the post for his son Robert. And, of course, he was right. Robert Cecil—that little elf of a man, with his crooked back and slouching walk, had the same balanced outlook as his father. He had been coached by his father from the very earliest, and it was clear that if the post were given to anyone else, there would inevitably be trouble with Burghley.
So Davison did not get the post, but he was released from the Tower and went to live in his home in Stepney where he remained for many years.
Essex was still looking for adventure and when Henri Quatre of France asked me for help, he wanted to take a company of men over to fight for the King, who had come to the throne when Henri Trois had died. As a Huguenot he looked to England for help against the Catholic League which was determined to oust him on account of his religion. “It is necessary that we go to help,” said Essex. “He shares our faith. He would be our friend if we helped him to hold his throne.”
His eyes were shining with enthusiasm. He was somewhat nave. Did he not know that kings were friends of other kings only when it was expedient to be so? But it was true that we did not want the Catholics to prevail in France. We had subdued Spain but France could be as great a menace. Essex threw himself onto his knees and begged to be allowed to take command of an expedition. His friends—and his mother, I believed—advised him against going abroad. He should stay behind and make his name at Court as all the most successful men had done. He should model himself on the lines of Leicester, Walsingham, Burghley … those who held first place in the Queen's regard. Perhaps they realized that he lacked the temperament of a great general. He was too rash, too impulsive, too careless of himself.
However he wearied me with his importunings and as it had been decided that we should aid Henri, I finally gave in and allowed Essex to command the expedition.
It was a sad day for me when he sailed from Dover with four thousand men.
He took with him Lettice's other boy, Walter Devereux, and I wondered how she felt at the prospect of two sons going to war.
I waited eagerly for news. I heard that Henri took a fancy to Essex and that they frolicked together. There was some fighting though, and in a skirmish outside Rouen young Walter Devereux was killed.
I was almost sorry for Lettice then, for I believe that she did love her children.
I heard that Essex recklessly exposed himself to danger and had come near to capture on two occasions. He was popular for he shared his men's hardships and then distributed honors on the battlefield, which he had no authority to do.
I made Burghley write to him in my name, disapproving and forbidding him to act in such a way. Moreover, he had no right to bestow honors. That was the Sovereign's prerogative.
I ordered so forcefully that he return home that at length he could make no excuses for not doing so.
He came back ebullient as ever, with no excuses for what he had done, and I was once more so delighted to see him that, after the first few reprimands, he was in favor again.
But all the time he wanted to return to France, so I let him go, giving him strict injunctions—as I once did to Robert—to take good care of himself.
Fortunately he was a young man who quickly tired of a project and after a while, when I told him I wished him to come back and relinquish the command to Roger Williams, who had shared his adventures on the Swiftsure, rather to my surprise, he eagerly obeyed the command.
I think he had taken the advice of his friends to seek his fortune at Court, where my undoubted affection for him would mean that he had a great chance of success.
I OFTEN THOUGHT of Christopher Hatton who had been so devoted to me that he had never married. I wished I had been kinder to him at the end. It must have been heartbreaking for him when I turned my back on his pleading to be allowed time to pay that silly debt. In the end I had gone to him and fed him with my own hands, but by then it was too late. Sometimes I wondered whether my harsh treatment of him had hastened his death. He had been a sensitive man and he had truly loved me.
Young men nowadays were less reverent; they were bold and inclined to be insolent—at least Essex was. He was quite unlike the men of my youth … Robert, Heneage, Hatton … They had been like romantic heroes. Nowadays it seemed that a young man's chief fancy was for himself.
I wished that I did not feel so deeply about Essex. Perhaps I should have done better to have fixed my affections on another. There was Raleigh, for instance. He was, some would say, more handsome than Essex, with his ruddy countryman's looks, his tall stature, his dashing manners and his wit. I even found that Devonshire burr in his voice attractive, though his jealous rivals sneered at him and called him the farmer's boy.
He had a commanding presence and a fine intelligence. I was very glad to have him near me. During those years when Essex had been behaving so recklessly I had encouraged Raleigh; and I was secretly amused to see the rivalry between him and Essex.
Raleigh was a born courtier as well as an adventurer. He had succeeded Christopher Hatton as Captain of the Guards; he had his knighthood and a fine residence in Durham House and had just acquired a ninety-nine-year lease of the Castle of Sherborne. He had founded a colony in North America which he had called Virginia in honor of me. I would never forget his coming home and telling me about his adventures. He had developed a curious habit which he had learned from the savages there and he explained this to me. It was a herb which was called Yppowoc. I had heard of it before when Sir John Hawkins first brought it into the country, but it was Raleigh who was responsible for calling the notice of the people of England to it. Apparently it had a soothing effect if put in a pipe and smoked. It was known as tobacco. Another product had come from Virginia. This I think was more useful than the smoking herb. It was the potato, which John Hawkins brought in about the same time as the tobacco, but it had not become popular until Drake brought it home in large quantities.
Raleigh had great hopes of that colony. It was my colony, he said, named in honor of me; and he let me know that he had spent forty thousand pounds of his own money in order to maintain it. He was heartbroken when it could not be kept going. Hakluyt, the geographer-writer, said it would require a prince's purse to have thoroughly followed it out.
It always pleased me when my men spent their own money in the service of the state. None did this quite to the same extent that Walsingham had done. It showed a genuine love of country which I applauded.
Raleigh was at heart an adventurer. I realized that he had too much talent in that direction to be kept at home. I sent him to Ireland—that hotbed of dissension—where he used his genius for organization as successfully as anyone could against such people who were determined never to conform to law and order and whose great mission in life was to create trouble.
Now Raleigh was back in England—more attractive than ever, full of plans, showing jealousy of Essex which amused me, for I told myself it was good for Essex, who seemed to think he had a right to monopolize my affections.
Raleigh was as obsessed by the Spaniards as Drake had been. He was constantly considering methods of attacking them and robbing them of their treasure. They had had intrepid explorers who had discovered new lands; they were good seamen; and men like Drake and Raleigh wanted to snatch the role of pioneers from Spain and make England the great exploring, empire-building nation; it was for us to rule the seas.
I clung to my conviction that war was folly and that even the victorious invariably suffered; but this war at sea was conducted by privateers whom a sovereign could disown if necessary; oh, yes, this gathering of treasures was quite another matter, far removed from open war. I knew in my heart that the conflict between Spain and England was not a brief struggle. It was a mighty struggle and it was not only for land, or even religion… not on our side at least; it was for supremacy at sea; it was to rule the ceans, to make them safe for England, to protect our shores and to make our country the greatest sea power in the world. Men like Drake and Raleigh understood this and their purpose shone like a beacon through all their actions. They wanted treasure; they wanted the glory of success in battle; but the prime object was that England should be in command of the high seas—and therein lay their greatness.
I had seen from the first that these men must be encouraged for on their bravery, their skill and their enterprise rested the might of England.
So I loved my adventurers and I was torn between a desire to have them with me at Court or to send them on those adventures which were fraught with danger.
So when Raleigh came to me with an idea for a new enterprise to go forth and bring back treasure for England, I agreed he must carry out his plan; but when the time came for departure, I decided that I could not spare Raleigh. He was too amusing, too brilliant an ornament at Court and I ordered that although the expedition should set sail, it should go without Raleigh. In his place Frobisher should go with Sir John Borough.
Raleigh was somewhat put out, but being Raleigh he did not make this obvious to me and pretended that to be near me was a complete compensation for having been denied the adventure.
I really was getting very fond of him. His manners were so much smoother than those of Essex; that was why his perfidy wounded me so deeply.
Nicholas Throckmorton's daughter, Elizabeth, was one of my maids of honor and she was an exceptionally pretty girl. I had promised myself that I owed it to her father to find a good husband for her, which I intended to do in due course.
I happened, however, to notice that she was becoming unusually absentminded. This came to a head when she dropped some of the pins which held my hair-pieces in place. I told her she was clumsy and she murmured apologies; but she did not improve. I had noticed this look in young women before and I had my suspicions. It invariably meant one thing. The girl had a lover and if my intuition did not deceive me, their frolicking had gone beyond the bounds of respectability.
I decided to question her.
“You are very clumsy lately, Bessie,” I said.
“I crave Your Majesty's pardon,” she replied.
“There is a reason, I believe.”
She flushed. Silly girl! She betrayed herself immediately.
“Well,” I went on, “you had better tell me. It is wiser in these cases before matters go too far. How far have they gone with you, Bess Throckmorton?”
She stammered and flushed and I knew the worst.
“Who is the scoundrel?” I demanded.
She stood before me, eyes downcast, the picture of guilty confusion.
“You know I will not have immorality at my Court!” I shouted.
I gave her a slap at the side of her face which sent her reeling. “Come here,” I said. “Closer.” I took her by the shoulders and shook her. “Now… tell me. Who is it?”
She stammered: “Your Majesty must forgive me if…if…”
“If what?”
“If…I cannot tell you.”
“You cannot tell me?” I caught her by the ear and she gave a squeal of pain as I nipped the lobe between my fingers. There were tears in her foolish eyes.
“Your Majesty,” she began, “we love each other…”
“And you think that is an excuse for misbehaving? Who is it? You had better tell me, girl. How dare you stand there defying me!”
“Your Majesty, I did not mean…”
“Tell me,” I commanded; and she knew then from the tone of my voice and my black looks that she could hold out against me no longer.
“It is Walter, Your Majesty.”
“Raleigh!” I cried.
Anger was my first emotion. It was so like other occasions. Robert and Lettice Knollys; Essex and Frances Walsingham. These young men… they professed to care above all people for me and all the time they were philandering with my maids of honor.
“Get out of my sight, you slut,” I said.
And she ran from the room.
Then I shouted to the guard: “Find Raleigh! Send him to me at once.”
He came, his urbane charming self. I said: “So, Sir Adventurer, you have seduced one of the girls who has been put by her family into my care.”
“Bess has been talking to you,” he said.
“I prized it out of the little harlot. As for you, you sly snake, I do not want to see your false face for a very long time.”
He began to protest. He had a way with words. He always had had, and it was one of the reasons why he had endeared himself to me. But I was hurt and angry. They meant nothing—these protestations of affection—except: What can I get by flattering the old woman?
My fury increased and I shouted: “Take him to the Tower.”
That was what I had said when Robert had married Lettice, and dear old Sussex had persuaded me that I could not send him to the Tower merely because he had married.
There was nobody to speak for Raleigh. In any case there had been no marriage. This was a case of seduction.
Let him go to the Tower. I would forget all about him. There were many handsome young men ready to dance attendance. Why should I regret the loss of one?
So with Bess Throckmorton banished from Court and Raleigh in the Tower, Essex was supreme—the favorite with no serious rival.
THE STAY AT the Court of France had changed Essex. He had been greatly influenced by the King of France who was, by all accounts, a very impressive man. He had that rare quality—which he shared with me—of winning the hearts of the people so that they would follow him even in disaster. He was a simple man; he lived with his men in battle; he did not stand on ceremony; his attitude said: I am one of you. I suffer with you. I share your lot in battle. We are of a kind. I just happen, by accident of my birth, to be your leader.
That was the right approach. He knew, as I did, that it was the ordinary people who decided whether or not the crown was secure on the sovereign's head.
But he had one great weakness—and that was his fondness for women. He had a host of mistresses and was constantly looking for more. His love affairs obsessed him while they lasted, even though they were of short duration.
When Essex came back, he had lost a certain honesty; he was becoming more acquisitive. He was promiscuous and neglected poor Frances shamefully and there was a scandal about one or two of the ladies at Court. This was kept from me in det
ail and I decided not to probe. He courted me with more finesse than he had shown hitherto and although I believed that genuine affection was still there, he had hardened, become ambitious; in other words the Essex who had set out for his sojourn at the Court of France was not the same man who had come back from it.
The Cecils were his enemies. It said much for the abilities of Robert Cecil that I was beginning to think of his father and himself as “the Cecils.” Burghley had superintended his son's education well and had brought him up to think as he did and work in the same way. I was not displeased by this. I knew that sooner or later I had to lose my dear Spirit; and it was comforting to know that when he went I should have his son Robert to help me.
Raleigh was in the Tower and therefore posed no threat, but it appeared that Essex was forming a party, rival to the Cecils, and people were beginning to gather about him.
In spite of my fondness for Essex, I never lost sight of his weaknesses. It soon became clear to me that he was not stable enough to form a party in opposition to the Cecils, and he confined himself to doing everything he could to damage them in my eyes—an impossible task.
He had made the acquaintance of the Bacon boys—Anthony and Francis—nephews of Burghley. They were two clever young men, particularly Francis, I believed; but they had not learned the art of graciousness, and Francis irritated me by his interference in political matters. They were disgruntled, both of them, because they had hoped their uncle would find them places at Court. That I was sure he was prepared to do, but he was so intent on looking after his own son, that he made sure no one should be given a chance to outshine him.
Francis should have been given something useful to do, but he was too sure of himself, too definite in his views, and not inclined to modify them; which brought him my displeasure.
Then an event took place which filled me with horror. Henri Quatre changed his religion with the cynical comment that Paris was worth a Mass.
