It was not only Essex and his band of followers who were trapped inside the house, but his wife and Penelope, too. While the rebellion had been underway, Penelope and the Countess of Essex had spent their time entertaining the Earl of Worcester and the Queen’s envoys, who were still being held hostage. It was with the latter in mind that, finding Essex unwilling to surrender, Cecil reported that ‘the Lord Admiral threatened to blow up the house, which he had forborne to do because my Ladies Essex and Rich were within it’.18 Some action needed to be taken, and it was now that ‘Sir Robert Sidney signified to the Earl, in the General’s name, that they would give two hours respite for the ladies and gentlewomen to be removed.’19 Essex accepted this, which encouraged Sidney to press further: ‘And yourself, my Lord, what mean you to do? For the house is to be blown up with gunpowder unless you will yield.’20 The Earl answered desperately that ‘they should the sooner fly to heaven’.21 However, ‘upon remonstrance and persuasion that their grievance should be brought to the Queen, they seemed utterly to despair, Essex saying there was none near the Queen that would be suffered to make a true report of this action, or speak a good word for him’.22
He had by now realized that his cause was lost, and knowing that there was no alternative, at ten o’clock that evening Essex and his associates ‘yielded to Her Majesty’s mercy’.23 From that moment, rather than showing remorse, Essex adopted his usual petulant attitude of pride, insisting that he had not committed treason. He was taken to Lambeth Palace for the night, but there was no question as to his ultimate destination. The following morning, he and his friend Southampton were conveyed by water to the Tower, there to await the Queen’s decision as to their fate. It was not just Essex and his associates who were in dire peril, but Penelope, too. She had played no active role in her brother’s rebellion, but she had still done her utmost to rally support for him. Her steadfast loyalty to her brother had led her into stormy waters, and she was placed in the custody of Henry Seckford, the Keeper of the Privy Purse.
Upon his arrival at the Tower, proud Essex was housed in the thirteenth-century Devil’s Tower, which was later renamed the Devereux Tower after its notorious inmate.24 For greater security, Sir Thomas Howard was appointed Constable of the Tower to oversee his care; so shocked were many of Essex’s contemporaries by his actions that many believed he was ‘more like a monster than a man’.25 Robert Cecil, meanwhile, made his thoughts on the fallen Earl perfectly clear:
Being but a boy in years, and a child in experience, he has been graced with more than common dignities. Her Highness first made him master of the horse, then master of her ordnance, and first a member and then president of her Privy Council. Afterwards, besides many other private gifts of value, amounting not to less than £300,000 [£30,192,000], she advanced him to the dignity of Earl Marshal, and confirmed him Lord General of her forces in Ireland; where how traitorously he behaved himself I would his own soul might be judge.26
Sir Christopher Blount, in the time being, was in a weakened state due to his injuries. Even so, it was clear that he would live, though it was some days before he was well enough to be questioned properly. Having regained some strength, it became apparent that Blount’s primary motive for supporting his stepson in his treason was religion. Despite his past double-dealings, at heart he was a true Catholic, and while they were at opposite ends of the religious spectrum, Essex was able to offer him some reassurance in this quarter: ‘The Earl did give him comfort that if he came to authority there should be a toleration for religion. He was wont to say that he did not like that any man should be troubled for his religion.’27 Blount had, it seems, resigned himself to the fact that he was unlikely to be granted mercy, and as such had signed papers to the effect that he ‘Desires as a last request, that Her Majesty will assure herself that if he could in twelve years have seen her gracious eyes, there is no man living could have drawn him into any offensive action.’28 This seems to suggest that from the time of his marriage to Lettice, which had taken place almost twelve years previously, like his wife, Blount had been denied royal favour, and it provides another reason for his decision to join his stepson’s plot.
There is no record of how Lettice came to learn of the disastrous failure of her son’s rebellion, and how deeply embroiled her daughter had also become. Given her intense love for her children, her reaction and anxiety can be easily imagined, and she must have been greatly fearful of what their fates might be. Realizing that no amount of fine dresses and begging could alter the situation, she remained at Drayton Bassett. Equally uncertain is how she came to learn of her husband’s injuries, but it became immediately apparent where her true loyalties lay. There is no record of her attempting to see or communicate with her husband during this time, and she realized that to do so would be unwise – possibly even dangerous. Her children were her greatest concern, and even then she was fully aware that for Essex, the future looked bleak: those who had committed treason rarely went unpunished.
THE AWE-INSPIRING WESTMINSTER Hall, built by William II in 1097, had witnessed many notable events.29 It had hosted the coronation banquets of monarchs, and it had been here that, in January 1559, Lettice had witnessed the joyous celebrations staged for the coronation of her royal kinswoman. The atmosphere on the morning of 19 February was, however, vastly different than it had been on that day. A ‘raised platform, about two yards high and six yards square, was erected at the upper end of the hall’, as it prepared to witness the trial of the Earls of Essex and Southampton.30 Westminster Hall had been used to host many such trials, including those of Sir Thomas More, the Duke of Somerset and the Duke of Northumberland – the trial of Essex was no different. At nine o’clock that morning, Essex and Southampton were brought into the Hall and made to stand at the bar. A contemporary remembered that ‘When he [Essex] first came to the bar, his countenance was unsettled; but once in, he showed the greatest resolution and contempt of death, real or assumed.’31 Lettice’s son chose to convey himself with his usual pride, and spoke in his own defence in a spirited manner. It was not the first time that Essex’s arrogance had drawn comment. As the trial got underway, a further contemporary report related that
The charges were, Essex’s attempt to surprise the court, his coming in arms to London to raise rebellion, and defending his house against the Queen’s forces. To the two last he answered that he was driven for his life; to the first, that it was never resolved upon, and had it been, it was only to throw himself at the Queen’s feet, and tell such things of his enemies as should make them odious and restore him to her favour. He spoke bravely, and his chief care evidently was, as he had ever lived popularly, to leave a good opinion in the people’s minds now at parting. He loudly protested his faith and loyalty to the Queen and State.32
Although he was steadfast in his declaration of loyalty to the Queen, he had undeniably committed treason. The Queen was determined to let justice take its course; all of her former warm feelings towards Essex had now dissolved. She had told the French ambassador, just days earlier, that she had pandered to him for too long, and that his behaviour had been shameful. She now had no kind words for him, and on the day of the rebellion had been determined to face him ‘in order to know which of the two of them ruled’.33 The evidence was compelling, but the proceedings were exhausting for all involved, and dragged on until seven o’clock that evening. Given the severity of the charges, a guilty verdict was inevitable. Among the peers that sat in judgement against the two Earls was Lettice’s unsavoury son-in-law, Lord Rich. He had no wish to be connected with his wife’s treasonous family any longer, and was doing all that he could to disassociate himself. More poignantly, her brother William was also there, and was one of those who gave evidence against his nephew. Both Essex and Southampton were condemned as traitors: the sentence was the full-blown horror of a traitor’s death: hanging, drawing and quartering.
The news of her son’s condemnation can have come as no surprise to Lettice, but no matter how expected, the re
alization that he had been sentenced to a traitor’s death still came as a great shock. She had already lost two sons in the first years of their lives, and another in violent circumstances abroad; her letters to Essex are testament to just how precious he was to her, but she was helpless to protect him.
Following their trial, Essex and Southampton were returned to the Tower. There, a contemporary related that ‘I hear that he begins to relent, and acknowledges, among other faults, his arrogant behaviour at his trial.’34 He was, however, about to make a far more shocking revelation. Two days after the trial, Essex made a private confession in which he incriminated Penelope, his beloved sister, and her lover, Charles Blount, Lord Mountjoy. Mountjoy was by now in Ireland, where he had been sent to replace Essex, and had played no part in Essex’s rebellion. He had, however, agreed to earlier plans that aimed to release Essex from his house imprisonment by using the army. More dangerously, in his absence his house had been used as a rendezvous for the conspirators. Essex’s claims against his sister are more difficult to comprehend, and seem to have been motivated by nothing more than a less than chivalrous desire to shift the blame. He denied all responsibility for his actions, instead claiming that Penelope ‘did continually urge me on with telling me how all my friends and followers thought me a coward and that I had lost all my valour; and thus that she must be looked to, for she had a proud spirit’.35 On a personal level, given the closeness of Lettice’s family, Essex’s claims against his sister came as a devastating betrayal. But his words had little effect, for despite her involvement Penelope was set at her liberty. Her brother’s treachery left her heartbroken – feelings that Lettice shared – and she made her distress clear in a letter to the Lord Admiral. She bitterly declared that ‘it is known that I have been more like a slave than a sister, which proceeded out of my exceeding love rather than his authority’.36 The close relationship that the siblings had once shared was in ruins, and the lives of Lettice’s family would never be the same again.
ESSEX’S ENEMY ROBERT Cecil claimed that the Earl of Southampton had been led astray, thanks to his loyalty to the Earl. Following his intercession, Southampton’s sentence was commuted to life imprisonment: he would not face the axe after all. Moreover, the clemency of King James ensured that he was later released and reunited with Elizabeth Vernon, by whom he had several more children.37 If Essex and his family were hopeful that the same mercy might be extended to him, they were cruelly mistaken; it was not long before the Earl realized that his days were numbered. Now all that he could do was prepare to meet his end.
For a man of Essex’s pride, who had been raised with a profound sense of dignity and respect for his lineage, making a good death was of paramount importance. He wanted to die well, and to show the world that he left it a brave soldier. There were reports that he had begged the Queen for a private execution within the confines of the Tower, a request that was duly granted, and for which he wrote to the Queen giving thanks. This is unlikely to have been the true tale. More probable is the explanation provided by Bourchier Devereux, that the ‘true reason was, that Essex was now as ever the darling of the people, who could not be made to believe that he had received a fair trial’.38 Despite their failure to support his rebellion, Essex was still extremely popular with the citizens of London. Hence in order to avoid a public outcry at his death, the Queen and Council deemed a private execution wisest. The King of France believed – probably quite rightly – that this was in direct contrast to Essex’s wishes, and that ‘he desired nothing more than to die in public’.39 Similarly, the Queen had commuted the sentence of hanging, drawing and quartering to beheading, as was customary in the case of noblemen.
Essex’s preparation for death did not include making a will, and neither did he ask to see his wife or children; his youngest daughter, Dorothy, was just two months old.40 With this in mind, it is also unsurprising that he did not ask to see his mother, knowing as he undoubtedly did that Lettice was in a torment of anxiety over the imminent fate of her beloved son. There is no record of her attempting to intercede and save him, or beseeching others to do so on her behalf – she was politically astute enough to understand that to do so would be pointless. She herself held no influence, and now her whole family lay under the very dark cloud of the Queen’s displeasure. She was forced to live with the knowledge that her final precious son would soon be dead.
WITHIN THE CONFINES of the Tower on the evening of 24 February, Essex was preparing to meet his end on the morrow. According to a contemporary report,
On Tuesday night, between ten and twelve o’clock, he opened his window, and said to the guard, ‘My good friends, pray for me, and tomorrow you shall see in me a strong God in a weak man; I have nothing to give you, for I have nothing left but that which I must pay to the Queen tomorrow in the morning.’41
At eight o’clock on the morning of Wednesday 25 February, the Lieutenant and sixteen Tower guards led Essex out from the Devil’s Tower. He was dressed fully in black, in ‘a gown of wrought velvet, a suit of satin, a felt hat, all in black, and a little ruff about his neck’, and was accompanied by three clergymen: Dr Mountfort, Dr Barlow and Mr Ashton.42 The journey was an exceedingly short one, for the scaffold had been erected on nearby Tower Green. There, ‘where the church stands’, was a scaffold ‘three yards square and railed round’; from his rooms Essex would have been able to hear, and perhaps also see, as his final stage was erected.43 Though only travelling a short distance,
all the way from his chamber to the scaffold, he called to God to give him strength and patience to the end, and said ‘O God, give me true repentance, true patience, and true humility, and put all wordly thoughts out of my mind;’ and he often entreated those that went with him to pray for him.44
As he arrived, he would have seen ‘a form near unto the place whereon sat the Earls of Cumberland and Hertford, the Viscount Byndon, the Lord Thomas Howard, the Lord Darcy, the Lord Compton’.45 These men had witnessed Essex’s rise in the Queen’s favour, watched as he fell, and would soon be able to report on his end.
Showing more humility in his final moments than he had demonstrated in the entirety of his life, Essex stood on the scaffold surveying the scene. He took off his hat and ‘made reverence to the Lords’, before repenting of his sins and asking for forgiveness:46 ‘My Lords and you, my Christian brethren, who are here to be witnesses of this my just punishment,’ he began, ‘I confess to the glory of God that I am a most wretched sinner, and that my sins are more in number than the hairs of my head.’47 He continued to explain that
I have bestowed my youth in wantonness, lust and uncleanness, and that notwithstanding divers good motions from the spirit of God put into me, the good which I would, I have not done, and the evil which I would not, I have done. For all which I humbly beseech my Saviour Christ to be a mediator to the Eternal Majesty for my pardon; especially for this my last sin, wherein so many for love of me have been drawn to offend God, their sovereign and the world. I beseech God to forgive it us, and to forgive it me, the most wretched of all. And I beseech God to send her Majesty a prosperous reign and a long life, [if] it be His will! I beseech God give her a wise and an understanding heart. O Lord, bless her and the nobles and ministers of the State. And I beseech you and all the world to hold a charitable opinion of me for my intention to her wards, whose death, I protest, I never meant, nor violence to her person. And I desire all the world to forgive me even as I do freely and from my heart forgive all the world. I never was, I thank God, atheist not believing the Word and Scriptures, neither Papist trusting in my own merits, but hope for my salvation from God by the mercy and merits of my Saviour, Jesus. This faith I was brought up in, and here am now ready to die in, beseeching you all to join your souls with me in prayer, that my soul may be lifted up above all earthly things in my prayers. For now I will give myself to my private prayers, yet for that I beseech you to join with me, I will speak that you may hear.48
It was a moving speech, and having unburdene
d himself Essex removed his ruff and gown, making his way towards the block. One of his chaplains stepped forward, urging him not to fear death, to which he responded that ‘having been divers times in places of danger, yet where death was never so present nor certain, he had felt the weakness of flesh, and, therefore, now in this greater conflict desired God to strengthen him’.49 The Earl knelt before the block, and in the traditional manner the executioner asked for his forgiveness. ‘I forgive thee, thou art a minister of justice,’ he replied, before beginning his prayers.50 When he had finished, he asked the executioner what sign was needed from him, and he spread his arms wide out,
his doublet taken off, in a scarlet waistcoat and bowing towards the block, he said, ‘With humility and obedience to Thy commandments, in obedience to Thy ordinances to Thy good pleasure, O Lord, I prostrate myself to my deserved punishment.’ So laying flat along on the board, his arms stretched out and laying down his head and setting it to the block with these last words in his mouth, ‘Lord Jesus, receive my soul,’ it was severed by the axe from his corpse at three blows, the first deadly and absolutely depriving sense and motion.51
It took three heavy blows of the axe to sever Essex’s head from his body – but it was the first one that was fatal.52 The executioner picked up the detached head, ‘in which the eyes remained open and turned towards heaven, and the expression of the face unchanged, and holding it up, cried, “God save the Queen!”’53 Her favourite was now dead.
One of those present may have relayed the manner in which Essex met his death to his mother, from which Lettice would have gleaned some comfort. She did not dare to ask for her son’s body for burial, and following his execution Essex’s broken remains were interred in the Chapel of St Peter ad Vincula within the Tower. He was laid to rest besides two others who had lost their lives as a result of imprisonment in the Tower: Philip Howard, Earl of Arundel, and the Duke of Norfolk, whose trial Essex’s own father had once witnessed.54
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