It is probable that Lettice was fully aware of Penelope’s letter – she may even have read it, for unable to wait in the countryside any longer, by January 1600 she was in London where she waited anxiously for news. A portrait of her painted at around this time shows an attractive yet careworn face.26 In an attempt to soften the Queen’s heart, it was reported that ‘The Lady Leicester sent the Queen a New Year’s gift, which was very well taken.’27 The nature of the gift is unknown, but if Lettice took this to be a good sign she was to be mistaken. On 2 February, Rowland White had been told that ‘This day seven night my Ladies Leicester and Rich were at Mr Beck’s house upon Richmond Green and were humble suitors to her Majesty to have access unto her; but they returned back again without comfort.’28 Whether Lettice attempted to approach the Queen personally is unclear – if she did then no record of it has survived, but either way the Queen was not in a hurry to do her any favours.
Lettice was naturally distressed when she heard of the imprisonment of her ‘Sweet Robin’, and was determined to do everything she could to secure his release. She was also desperate to be near him, and by the middle of February she had moved closer to York House. She simply could not let matters lie, and though her behaviour was not deliberately antagonistic, the Queen was incensed. On 25 February, it was reported that ‘Mislike is taken that his mother and friends have been in a house that looks into York Garden where he uses to walk and have saluted each other out of a window.’29 Lettice’s protective love for her son overcame all reason, and she was fearful lest Essex should become one of the Queen’s victims.
Despite his imprisonment, Essex was still allowed access to pen and paper. Given the circumstances he could easily have been forgiven for forgetting to write to his mother, but Lettice evidently felt differently. It may have been around this time that she wrote to him, urging him to
Bestow some time a few idle lines on your mother who otherwise may grow jealous that you love her not so well as she deserves, which blot I know you will take away. And, as she hath made you the chief comfort of her life, so I doubt not of your noble nature but that you will be careful to maintain it with all childlike kindness.30
He was a thirty-four-year-old man with other matters on his mind, yet still Lettice suffocated him and treated him as if he were a small boy.
With Penelope’s letter and her own movements having served only to inflame the Queen, Lettice tried another tactic in an attempt to soften her resolve towards her son. She knew how fond Elizabeth was of finery, and it was heard that, stretching her finances once more, she had ‘in hand a gown she will send the queen which will cost her £100 [£12,500] at least’.31 This ‘most curious fine gown’ was nothing more than an attempt to bribe the Queen into releasing her son, and one that Lettice hoped would pay off.32 Due to their broken relationship, Lettice was unable to deliver her gift personally, so she sought an intermediary. On 2 March, the gown was presented to the Queen by Lady Mary Shelton, one of her favourite ladies, and it was reported that the Queen ‘liked it well’.33 It was an encouraging start, but Elizabeth was fully aware of the meaning behind it. She was in no hurry to do either Lettice or Essex any favours, and she refused to be bribed in such a way. She was too clever to accept such a gift, and she therefore ‘did not accept or refuse it only answered that things standing as they did it was not fit for her to desire what she did’.34 More worryingly, Lettice was also left in little doubt that her son had now well and truly fallen from grace. The costly gift had not worked – she did not dare to ask for it back, and Essex remained imprisoned.
Just days later, on 8 March, Rowland White was reporting that there had been ‘an expectation that Lord Essex should have come to his own house’.35 Once again, Lettice’s overbearing nature put a stop to this, for White continued to relate that ‘it is conjectured that Ladies Leicester, Southampton, Northumberland and Rich assembled themselves at Essex House to receive him, which hindered it’.36 The disappointment of Lettice and her daughters can well be imagined, and more so when on 10 March, by ‘Her Majesty’s express command’, Lettice was ordered to remove herself from Essex House.37 She wasted no time in doing so, and the reason for her removal became apparent when, on 22 March, Essex was at last allowed to return to Essex House. The time for the revelries he had once enjoyed there had long since passed, for the Earl was still a prisoner. Nevertheless, there was better news when, four days after his arrival, Lettice was given the opportunity to visit her son. Sir Richard Berkeley, Essex’s jailer at Essex House, was able to inform Sir Robert Cecil that ‘The Countess of Leicester came hither by water this afternoon, attended on with a man and one gentlewoman, and stayed here with my Lord of Essex not two hours, and returned by water again.’38 Permission for Lettice to visit may have been given in response to a petition she made to the Queen via Cecil. Given her antipathy towards Lettice and Essex’s disgrace, it is surprising that Elizabeth agreed to such a meeting. Lettice’s claim that she sought to see her son ‘once before her departure’ helped to convince the Queen that, if she conceded, Lettice would leave London and become less troublesome.39 Lettice herself was aware that she needed to tread carefully, which was why, by her own admittance, she did not dare to ‘crave any further grace at this time, how glad soever she would be of it’.40 What passed between mother and son during their meeting is unknown – perhaps Lettice urged her son to show some contrition for his behaviour, and conform to whatever demands the Queen made of him. Whatever the truth, she realized that for the time being there was no more that she could do for him. She had no choice, and was forced to leave her beloved son behind as she left Essex House and London, and departed for Drayton Bassett once more.
THE QUEEN AND Council had been so concerned with the matter of Essex that they had not had much opportunity to dwell on Penelope’s recent letter to her royal mistress. It had not been forgotten, though, and on 29 March the contemporary Dudley Carleton remarked that ‘Lady Rich, once more summoned to answer about her letter, feigns sickness, and has stolen into the country. The Earl of Essex finds his own house further from court than the Lord Keeper’s, having no longer the help of a friend at hand.’41 She could not avoid the summons forever, however, and when Penelope did appear before the Council, she stood her ground. She resolutely maintained her loyalty to the Queen, but in a bold demonstration of courage, she also protested her devotion to her brother. Other than her impertinence she had not committed any crime, and Penelope was released unpunished. Notwithstanding this, the Queen never fully forgave her for meddling in matters that she felt did not concern her. Unfortunately, at the end of May her strongly worded letter to the Queen ‘was lately printed, not from friendship or faction, but hope of gain; a few were sold, but it was soon suppressed. Lady Rich will have the worst of it, as she has been sent for to interpret her riddles, and is come.’42 Never again would Penelope enjoy the same favour with Elizabeth. Now all of Lettice’s faction had forfeited their former indulgence with the Tudor Queen.
FROM THE COUNTRYSIDE, Lettice learned that in June, Essex was once more returned to York House. Here he was interrogated by eighteen commissioners, the charges having been drawn up by Sir Edward Coke, the Attorney-General.43 Among them were Lettice’s brother, William, who doubtless found the situation uncomfortable as his loyalties to Queen and nephew were torn. The hearing lasted for thirteen hours, but no conclusions were drawn. Essex was therefore forced to endure an agonizing wait while the commissioners reported back to the Queen, who now had to decide upon his fate. At the end of August she made a decision: hoping that her former favourite had learned his lesson, Essex was granted his liberty. However, he was stripped of all of his public offices, meaning that his political career was now in shreds. Lettice greeted the news of Essex’s freedom with a sense of immense relief, but both she and the Earl were disappointed when it quickly became clear that a restoration to royal favour was not on the cards. In spite of his freedom, Essex was still forbidden from attending court, and for the time being he chose to
retreat quietly into the country.
Elizabeth made her feelings about Essex clearer still when, in September, she refused to renew his licence for sweet wine. This came as a great blow to him, for he had been hugely dependent on the income it yielded. He wrote to the Queen, desperate to try and regain her favour, but evidence of how far Elizabeth’s attitude towards him had cooled was palpable when he received no reply. Completely ignorant of how fortunate he had been to avoid greater punishment thus far, for Essex this was the final straw: he was hell-bent on revenge, and his mind turned to rebellion.
CHAPTER 20
The Arch-Traitor Essex
AS THE YEAR 1601 began, Lettice’s relief at her son’s release turned to anxiety once more. This was because Essex’s initial distress at the loss of the Queen’s favour moved from ‘sorrow and repentance to rage and rebellion’. As Lettice’s husband Blount later testified, it was shortly after ‘the Earl had his liberty, he began to treat and consult with me again in Essex House’, which before long had become a centre for all of those who were members of Essex’s disaffected circle.1 Essex had many supporters, for his popularity had not dwindled, and it was with these friends that he now began to plot. The Earl himself became progressively paranoid that his enemies at court – chiefly Robert Cecil – were planning to move against him. Determined to get there first, he planned a coup whereby he would gain control of the City, and crucially, the Tower. The Queen would not be harmed, but would be forced to impeach his ‘potent adversaries’ – chiefly Cecil and Ralegh.2 He himself would then resume his rightful place by the Queen’s side, when he would insist on being appointed Lord Protector. Lettice, who always made it her business to know what was going on in her son’s life, was deeply worried by what she heard. If, though, she wrote to Essex during this time – as is likely – then her letters have not survived, and must have been destroyed. She was more concerned still when, as Blount later confessed, Essex ‘sent for me out of the country not many days before this rebellion’.3
The Council were well aware of the goings-on at Essex House, and what was more, Essex and his friends knew it, too. With this in mind the Earl’s friends tried to convince him to escape, but Essex would have none of it and was determined to press on with his coup. He was now severely paranoid, and convinced that plots were being hatched to take his life – rumours abounded that Ralegh and Lord Cobham were at the centre of one such attempt. On 3 February, Essex’s good friend Southampton headed a meeting at Drury House in the City.4 Essex himself was not present, but in his absence his friends discussed the best course of action for the Earl to take in order to avoid falling into the clutches of his enemies. They did not have long to consider, as on Saturday 7 February Essex was summoned to court to stand before the Council. Both he and his supporters panicked, and in his unstable state of mind he plotted a reckless, ill-thought-out scheme to seize control of the Queen and the government.
Lettice – wisely – was at Drayton Bassett at this time.5 She was aware of her son’s dissatisfaction at the Queen’s treatment of him, and fully supported him in his indignation. But a rebellion against the monarch was another matter altogether. Such action was treasonous, and if it were not successful, her son risked the safety of his entire family. Whether she approved or not, Lettice had some knowledge of what was afoot, but her involvement went no further. The same could not be said of her husband, Sir Christopher Blount, and her eldest daughter Penelope, both of who were active conspirators.
Claiming illness, Essex failed to present himself at court on the appointed day, and instead remained at Essex House making plans. In his desperation, the Earl had become frantic, and could think only of regaining his former power. His plot, though, would demonstrate a reckless show of stupidity. It relied largely on the support of the people, whom Essex was confident would rise and follow him. On the afternoon of 7 February, while Essex was at home, some of his supporters had made a trip to the South Bank. There, at The Globe theatre, having paid forty shillings they gave orders for a performance of Shakespeare’s Richard II to be staged.6 The play was an attempt to rouse the citizens of London to show their support for Essex in what was to come, and included the banned abdication scene. In reality, Essex had no intention of removing the Queen from her throne, merely of removing her advisors – the Earl’s enemies. Even so, the conspirators were playing a dangerous game.
ON THE MORNING of Sunday 8 February, the Earl of Worcester and three members of the Council arrived at Essex House. They had come to ascertain the reason for Essex’s failure to present himself before them the previous day, and were horrified when the Earl gave orders for them to be locked in the house. Among them was Lettice’s brother, William, but family loyalties, it seemed, counted for nothing. William, who was later awarded the post of Treasurer of the Household in return for his support in the proceedings against Essex, remembered that ‘they contemptuously used us, not only with opprobrious speeches, but violent deeds, imprisoning us under lock and key’.7 It was now time for Essex to put his plans into action. The contemporary chronicler John Stow recorded that ‘about ten of the clock before noon, Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, assisted by sundry noblemen, and gentlemen, in warlike manner entered the city of London at the Temple Bar, crying for the Queen’.8 According to Essex’s enemy Robert Cecil, before he left the Earl had been busy fortifying Essex House, which he had ‘furnished with all manner of warlike provisions’.9 His preparations complete, Essex had marched out of his London home accompanied by more than a hundred armed men, including his stepfather, Sir Christopher Blount. Over the past decade and more, Lettice’s husband had shown himself to be a loyal ally to Essex, but on this occasion his participation would prove to be a fatal error.
Essex had always been uncommonly popular – ‘the darling of London’ – and as he and his armed party marched towards the City he called out to the citizens in an attempt to rally them to his cause.10 However, the sight of the armed men did nothing to rouse them, and instead encouraged people to keep to their houses. This came as a great disappointment to the Earl, who had been confident that the support of the Londoners would win the day for him. Indeed, Camden reported that Essex believed that he ‘was loved in the City, by most that were much addicted to his fame and fortune; which he believed absolutely to be true’.11 He was totally deluded, for his popularity was as nothing compared with the people’s loyalty to the Queen. They were astonished by Essex’s taking up arms against her, and were eager to do all that they could in order to protect their monarch and distance themselves from his treason.
Meanwhile, when word reached the court of Essex’s armed uprising, the Council were quick to act. There was ‘great bustling to put themselves in defence, with such weapons as the place furnished; a barricade of coaches was made in the broad passage between that and Charing Cross, and people from Westminster and the adjoining hamlets flocked with such weapons as they had’.12 A warrant was immediately issued:
Whereas the Earl of Essex and his confederates have taken arms against the Queen’s Majesty, and have this day been proclaimed traitors, and thereby are to be prosecuted as traitors and rebels: These are, in her Majesty’s name, straightly to charge and command you, upon your allegiance, forthwith to arm yourselves, as many as can with horse and armour, and the rest as foot with pike and shot, presently to repair hither and with us to march to the Court for the defence of her Majesty’s person, or otherwise as you shall be commanded; and the shot to be furnished with bullet, powder and match convenient.13
The Queen was irate when she was informed of Essex’s treason, and a contemporary reported that ‘The Queen was so far from fear that she would have gone out in person to see what any rebel of them all durst do against her, had not her councillors with much ado stayed her.’14 Her heart was now well and truly hardened; Essex had gone too far. It was clear that if the rebellion was successfully crushed, there was now no way back for him.
IN THE CITY, despite the hostility of the people, Essex and his associat
es continued their march. Once the party reached Ludgate, though, disaster struck. ‘Sir Christopher Blount was so shot that it is doubtful if he will escape, and Tracy, his page, was slain. He then took to the water, the company dispersed, the principals took boat at Queenhithe to Essex House, and shut themselves in, resolving not to come alive into their enemies’ hands.’15 Precisely how Blount was injured is unclear; his injuries were not fatal, but they were serious. It was now glaringly obvious that the whole rebellion was a bleak failure, and Essex’s forces melted away as it became clear that there was no popular support for his cause. Those that remained and the main conspirators fled back to their base. There was no escaping the reality that by taking up arms against the Queen, both Essex and Blount had committed treason; consequently, as Essex arrived back at Essex House, he knew he had limited time before the Queen’s men came for him.
The Earl barricaded himself and his supporters into his home, and rapidly began burning incriminating papers. Were there letters from his mother among them? It was later reported that he had destroyed ‘divers papers that were in a little casket, whereof one was, as he said, a history of his troubles’.16 Soon, the Queen’s forces had arrived at Essex House, headed by the Lord Admiral Charles Howard of Effingham – the husband of Lettice’s cousin, Katherine Carey. Essex was determined not to give in without a fight, but he was not the only one who was intent on obtaining a result, for ‘the Queen said she would not sleep till they were had out’.17
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