The incident illustrates Ralegh's address, a quality which was essential at that time for any success in life; that was the time when man dealt immediately with man. The mind must always be alive and on the alert. Here was Ralegh, coming to report a successful and daring exploit, suddenly obliged to defend himself against a trumped-up charge. If he failed to take in the whole situation in a moment, and to stand his own ground, death would result from the failure. Nor could he simply rely upon justice; he must know the man with whom he was dealing, and the men who were poisoning the General's mind. Ralegh's self-control is as amazing as his address. He had need of both.
The General was an arrogant, spoiled youth, angry at the knowledge that his subordinate was a better man, angry at his renewed success. A rash word on Ralegh's part would have been his last. And Ralegh had much cause to hate the young man. They were rivals for the love of a magnificent woman whom they served; their rivalry would accentuate the elder man's dislike of the younger's youth. But there is a dignity about Ralegh's conduct and defence which shows no cringing before the reigning favourite, but a superiority to all pettiness, a kind of freedom from what may quickly become the fetters of personality.
Such was Ralegh's last great enterprise against Spanish power. Hereafter the policy of England was to undergo a change, and in the new scheme of things a man like Ralegh could find no place. He was too great to be used by a small mind; pettiness is always full of fear and distrust and envy of powers which are not within its little scope of understanding.
CHAPTER XIII
THE UNDERMINING
Robert Cecil in power—Downfall of Essex—Ralegh's opinion of Essex—Governor of Jersey—Peril imminent.
With the fall of Fayal the naval war with Spain came to an end, for Philip II. died in the early autumn of the following year, 1598, which was the year of the great Lord Treasurer Burghley's death. His son, Sir Robert Cecil, became the chief man in England.
Time and experience did not soften the arrogance of Essex. On his return he set himself more than ever to the task of becoming supreme in the kingdom. Always there has been a certain rivalry between the statesman who manages affairs at home, and the successful soldier. Each is inclined to underrate the value of the other's service. Essex naturally thought the highest place in the government should be occupied by a dashing soldier like himself. He had whatever prestige popularity gives, and he had influence with the Queen, but not so much as he thought. Robert Cecil knew his man, and quietly determined his downfall. Through his mediation Lord Howard of Effingham was raised to the earldom of Nottingham, which, combined with his position of Lord High Admiral, gave him precedence of Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex. This Essex, in his arrogance, could not tolerate. He absented himself from Court, and all Howard's efforts to pacify his anger were futile. But the Queen began to weary at his absence. She asked Ralegh to try and make Howard waive his right of precedence, but this Howard refused to do. Accordingly, again at Ralegh's suggestion, who valued the Queen's happiness more highly than his personal likes and dislikes, Essex was created Earl Marshal of England, and Howard retired in his turn from Court.
On the return of Essex, Cecil began to play a game at which he was an adept. He wanted Essex to feel that his importance was properly recognized without admitting him into any State matters. So he arranged long conferences with Essex, and with Ralegh, about projects which he never had the least intention of bringing to any issue; and these conferences about nothing were carefully attended by all the pomp of formality. Essex would thereby be flattered, would grow in pride to his own undoing, and would be likely to reveal the trend of his own scheme. Essex, in spite of his almost childish arrogance, was a man to be reckoned with. He had many friends of importance, the most distinguished of whom was Francis Bacon. By means of his own spies he kept in touch with foreign affairs that he might criticize the Queen's advisers; he became friendly with King James of Scotland; he could rely on the help of every one who was disappointed of office or reward by Burghley or his son.
But he was no match for the astute Sir Robert Cecil. And the very year of Burghley's death, at one of the heated Council meetings, Essex had weakened by his uncontrolled conduct his influence with the Queen. The Queen had interfered on Burghley's behalf against Essex; and Essex in a rage "turned his back on the Queen with a gesture of contempt, muttering an unpardonable insult," as Mr. Sidney Lee has it.
He was not a safe person to leave idle. The office of Lord Deputy of Ireland was vacant; it was offered him, and after some dissent on his part was accepted. His ruin was now imminent. He felt his power grow less; and on Ralegh in particular he looked with hatred as upon the chief cause of his downfall. And small wonder if Ralegh hated the man who had offered gross insult to the old Queen in public. "Why do I talk of victory or success?" writes Essex from Ireland to the Queen. "Is it not known that from England I receive nothing but discomforts and soul's wounds.... Is it not lamented both there and here that a Cobham and Ralegh ... should have such credit and favour with your Majesty...." But without Ralegh, who, as his subordinate, had won him fame at Cadiz and at Fayal, and warded off disaster, the enterprise of Essex in Ireland was a failure. He wasted time and money, and achieved nothing. Then Essex resolved upon an impetuous step characteristic of him. He determined to return home, and to drive away by force the men who were keeping him from his proper place of supremacy; he even enlisted the support of James of Scotland, who was favourable to his scheme, but temporized, saying that he would send messengers to the Queen to beg her to restore Essex to her favour. What Essex needed for his mad project, however, was an army, not messages. Essex returned from Ireland, but Cecil was perfectly ready for him, and the people of London did not rise at his protest against the Queen's ministers; they gaped and wondered, as they would gape and wonder at a madman. Essex was arrested, was impeached for high treason, and beheaded.
The impetuousness of Essex approached very near to madness, and a dangerous form of madness. If any one has ever deserved death for treason, Essex deserved it. Ralegh wrote his opinion quite frankly to Sir Robert about him. The letter has raised much feeling against Ralegh. But he had good reason to know the peril a nature like that of Essex could bring to a nation or to anything with which he was connected, and he was perfectly just and honest in the opinion he gave that Essex's wings should be clipped. The letter runs as follows:—
"Sir,
"I am not wize enough to geve yow advise; but if you take it for a good councell to relent towards this tirant, yow will repent it when it shalbe too late. His mallice is fixt, and will not evaporate by any your mild courses. For he will ascribe the alteration to her Majesties pusillanimitye and not to your good nature; knowing that yow worke but uppon her humor and not out of any love towards hyme. The less yow make hyme, the less he shalbe able to harme yow and your's. And if her Majesties favor faile hyme, hee will agayne decline to a common parson. For after-revenges, feare them not; for your own father that was estemed to be the contriver of Norfolk's ruin, yet his son followeth your father's son and loveth him. Humours of men succeed not; butt grow by occasions and accidents of tyme and poure.... I could name you a thowsand of thos; and therefore after fears are but profesies—or rather conjectures—from causes remote. Looke to the present, and yow do wisely. His sonne shalbe the youngest Earle of Ingland butt on, and, if his father be now keipt down Will Cecill shalbe abell to keip as many men att his heeles as hee, and more too. Hee may also mache in a better howse then his; and so that feare is not worth the fearinge. Butt if the father continew, he wilbe able to break the branches and pull up the tree; root and all. Lose not your advantage; if you do, I rede your destiney.
"Let the Q. hold Bothwell while she hath hyme. Hee will ever be the canker of her estate and sauftye. Princes are lost by securetye; and preserved by prevention. I have seen the last of her good dayes, and all ours, after his libertye."
It is strange and it is memorable how the sentiment of the last sentence but one, "Princes are lost by securetye," ran through the minds of men at this time: again and again it occurs. The witches in Macbeth chant—
"Security
Is mortals' chiefest enemy."
Spenser writes—
"Little wist he his fatall future woe
But was secure: the liker he to fall."
It is more than the turn of phrase (though great expressions were common enough then—as for example, "millions of mischief" which Ralegh uses in a letter and which arrests you in Julius Cæsar—
"Men that smile have in their hearts I fear
Millions of mischiefs.")
It is the trend of thought. It illustrates a feature of Elizabethan life that was common to every rank, but most common in the highest. Men were tremendously vital, but life was not valued for its own sake: life was not looked upon as sacred; rather life was regarded as a possession to hold which it was worth while fighting to the death.
During the rebellion—the word can hardly be applied to such a ridiculous outburst—Ralegh sent for Sir Ferdinando Gorges at Durham House. He wanted to warn Gorges, who had served under him, that his arrest had been ordered. Gorges feared treachery, that their conversation might be overheard or that he might be suddenly seized, and consulting Essex, with whom he was staying, at length decided to meet Ralegh in the one safe place—namely, on the river. They rowed out into mid-stream, met, and conferred. In mid-stream their words were safe; their bodies were not. Sir Christopher Blount, who was a partisan of Essex, heard of the prospective meeting, and urged Gorges to kill Ralegh and thus to rid the Earl of his chief enemy at a blow. Gorges was a man of honour and refused. But Blount was strongly in favour of Ralegh's death. As Ralegh was pulled to the place of conference, Blount fired with a musket at him four times. Essex, Gorges, Blount, and other brave men were beheaded, and Ralegh, as Captain of the Guard, was present at their executions. On the scaffold Blount asked, "Is Sir Walter Ralegh here?" Ralegh came forward. "Sir Walter Ralegh," said Blount, "I thank God that you are present. I had an infinite desire to speak with you, to ask your forgiveness ere I died. Both for the wrong done you and for my particular ill-intent towards you, I beseech you forgive me."
"I most willingly," Ralegh replied, "and I beseech God to forgive you, and to give you His divine comfort." He turned to those standing round: "I protest before God that whatever Sir Christopher Blount meant towards me, I, for my part, never bore him any ill-intent."
After the death of Essex, the boy who had recklessly thrown himself against the astute Cecil to gain political power, men watched the demeanour of Ralegh closely; he too was the favourite of his Queen; they watched him and saw that sadness brooded on his face. There were many things to create sadness.
The great Queen was growing old, and in her age had been forced to sign the death-warrant of the young man who was dear to her and who had presumed on her affection. The old Lord Treasurer was dead; Burghley, whom the Queen tended with her own hand in his last illness, knowing the worth of the man who had served his country well for forty years; his son, the astute Cecil, had taken his place; but Robert Cecil played his own game: he was too astute. He desired advantage for his country, but that advantage must come through himself.
The great days were passing. Ralegh had seen the Queen ruling the nation as only a woman and a woman of genius and of beauty could rule it; he saw her when the power of her womanhood was declining and its weakness was in evidence. Who could take her place? What man or what woman? And must not the place itself be changed and its absolute authority be modified? Time was converting the Queen into her country's encumbrance. And who would succeed his Queen Elizabeth? Where were the men to carry on the great traditions of Elizabeth? Robert Cecil was too astute....
Meanwhile Ralegh continued the duties of his own life, at Sherborne and at Durham House. Lord Cobham's name is often found at this time in association with Ralegh. Cobham was Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, and often on his way to the coast he managed to make a short visit to the Raleghs at Sherborne. He was a weak man, as the event proved. And Ralegh liked him; a strong man is often led into liking a weak man, whom he is able to render pliant to his will.
About this time, too, Ralegh was made Governor of Jersey, and immediately he set about his new duties, which were many and various, with his own energy. There is an interesting letter from Lady Ralegh to Cecil; it tells not only of her husband's first journey to Jersey but also of a fire at Durham House, and in the telling shows something of Lady Ralegh's character.
"Sur,
"Hit tis trew that your packet brought me the newes of the mischans of feeiar at Durram Houes, wher, I thanke God hit went noo fardar. Other wies, hit had rid ous of all our poour substans of plat and other thinges. Unly now the loos is of your cumpani and my Lord Cobham's wich I thinke by this menes wee cannot injoy this winter....
"I ded heer from Sur Walter within too dayes after he landed at Jarsi: wher he was safly landed and rioly intertained with joye. But he was too dayes and too nites on the sea, with contrari windes, not withstanding hee went from Wamouthe in so fayer a wind and weether, as littell Wat and myselfe brought him abord the shipt. Hee writeth to me hee never saw a plesanttar iland; but protesteth unfannedly hit tis not, in valew, the veri third part that was reported, or inded hee beliffed. My cossin Will is heer, very will and louketh will and fat with his batheinge. This, wishing you all honnar and the full contentements of your hart, I ever rest
"Your asured poour frind
"E. Ralegh
"I am glad this mischans of feeiar cam not by ani neckelegans of ani sarvant of mine, but by me cossin Darci's sarvant,—a woman that delleth just under our logging, and anoyeth ous infenitly. I hope hee will now remoueve heer. I humbelly besuch you let this lettar heer inclosed be sent."
The little Will Cecil, who was well, and looked well and fat from his bathing, grew up into the second Earl of Salisbury. We can only hope that Darcy's servant, who was evidently a constant thorn in the flesh of the orderly Lady Ralegh, was removed; no positive facts are known.
The letter discovers a side of Ralegh's life about which little has been written, but which is none the less interesting and valuable. Little Wat and little Will were bathing and getting fat by the sea-side, while Essex was under sentence of death, while the great Queen was growing old, and while huge disorders were pending in the kingdom on the event of the Queen's death. Little things and big are jostled strangely together in the course of a man's life.
Meanwhile Ralegh's new duties as Governor of Jersey were occupying his attention. Always he entered a position untrammelled by what had been done there before his coming, and determined to do the best possible. It was so in his Governorship of Jersey. His changes were entirely for the good. He found a compulsory system of defence which pressed heavily on the inhabitants in what was called the Corps-de-Garde. He did away with the Corps-de-Garde. While he pondered on the great issues which were pending in England, he settled the small disputes of the islanders under his rule; for he was supreme judge in civil and Crown causes. He was at the pains to see to the proper fortification of the island, and to all the many businesses that his office entailed.
During these years he travelled often backwards and forwards between Durham House and Sherborne and the island of Jersey. He found on one occasion that by some curious oversight the Duc de Biron, who had come on an embassy from Henry of France, was at Crosby Hall, with not one nobleman or gentleman to accompany or guide him. "I never saw so great a person neglected," he writes to Sir Robert Cecil. "Wee have caried them to Westminster to see the monuments; and this Monnday we entertayned them at the Bear Garden, which they had great pleasure to see.... I sent to and fro and have labored like a moyle to fashion things so as on Wensday night they wilbe att Bagshoot and Thursday at the Vine." The Queen was at this time staying with the Marquis of Winchester at Basing, and to her the Duc de Biron rode, escorted by Ralegh. From Basing Ralegh wrote to Lord Cobham telling him of the Queen's wish for his attendance. He says that the French were only stopping three days, and were all wearing black. "So as I have only made mee a black taffeta sute to be in; and leave all my other sutes:" and he adds to the letter a postscript, which shows how punctilious he was in matters of dress: "I am yeven now going att night to London to provide me a playne taffeta sute and a playne black saddell, and wil be here agayne by Twesday night." He wrote late on Saturday night.
Little resulted from the Due de Biron's embassy. But he had the audacity to question Elizabeth about the fate of Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, and to express sympathy for him. Sully, the famous memoirist, reports their conversation, and points out the singular resemblance between the characters of Essex and of the Duc de Biron, and between the end each met. The Duc de Biron was beheaded ten months later for treason. This is the irony of things. Sully credits Elizabeth with the insight of knowing how like Biron was to Robert Devereux, that she almost augured his downfall, and warned him against his rash courses. The parallel between the two men is remarkable.
So Ralegh went about his various business as Governor of Jersey, as Captain of the Guard, transacted, too, the affairs of his own estates in Munster, Sherborne, and Durham House, while he and every man of influence in England kept pondering on the great question, vital to the welfare of the country, vital to the welfare of each man, who should succeed to the Queen Elizabeth? And Elizabeth was growing old.
CHAPTER XIV
SUCCESSION PLOTS
Possible successors to Elizabeth—Lord Henry Howard—Spies—Ralegh's position—The net is drawn round him—Letter of Cecil—Last illness and death of Elizabeth—Carey's ride to the North.
The position was one of acute interest. For Elizabeth had maintained her father's tradition that the sovereign reigned by divine right, and by her genius made the tradition credible. The responsibility of vesting any man or any woman with such power was immense. The choice might bring disaster to the nation, and it might bring disaster upon the men who opposed the final choice, even upon the men who supported it. And Elizabeth would not tolerate a mention even of her death, still less would she help to appoint a successor. Peter Wentworth had proposed to the House of Lords that a joint petition should be addressed to her, requesting her humbly to consider the question. Peter Wentworth was forthwith sent to the Tower, where he died after three years' imprisonment. All the hints of her higher ministers she treated with disdain. That she, Elizabeth, must die, it was impossible! But death was slowly approaching.
Sir Robert Cecil watched the approach of death, and made his secret preparations; for the greatest disaster of all would be that death should find the country unprepared. Mystery, carefully planned against the unravelling of chance or surprise, shrouds all the correspondence of the time. No one can properly tell what letters are authentic, what are written purposely to be discovered and to deceive. It was dangerous for any man to trust any man with his solution to the great problem. But Cecil was the political leader; in the Council he was informed of the undercurrents of opinion at home and abroad. He kept his hold upon that most important item—news, so difficult to acquire, so hard to test, that that alone made his position strong; and he determined that King James VI. of Scotland must succeed to the Crown. The accession of James would ensure his own prosperity, and James, being manageable, would ensure the prosperity of the country, for Cecil himself would continue to govern. He secretly corresponded with James; he explained his authority, and asserted his zeal on James's behalf.
Arabella Stuart and William Seymour, both of royal blood, were married in 1603, and their claim to the throne was strong and supported by those who desired the reintroduction of the Catholic religion. At one time Philip of Spain was anxious that the Infanta should become Queen of England. He thought that the Catholic party in England would welcome her. But he had neither the money nor the power to enforce such a claim, and the project was abandoned in favour of Arabella Stuart and William Seymour, as James VI. of Scotland, though his mother was a Catholic and he kept hinting that he was himself open to conversion, could not be trusted. Cecil, however, succeeded in proving to James that only through his own agency could he hope to wear the crown of England. Cecil's chief helper in this was Lord Henry Howard. They corresponded at length with James. Lord Henry Howard was an absolutely unscrupulous man, and he hated Ralegh. Whether or not he influenced Cecil against Ralegh is not known. Probably Cecil did not need much influence to see that Ralegh was too powerful a man to be kept in a properly subordinate place, and to work his undoing.
Lord Henry Howard stopped at nothing to poison James's mind against Ralegh. He always referred to him as the arch-enemy, the most dangerous man in England. James was ready to believe all that he was told. The Earl of Essex he had at one time regarded as his chief supporter in England; after his death James used to refer to him as "my martyr." Therefore the rival of Essex, whom many men said had brought Essex to the scaffold, was not one likely to be looked upon with favour by James.
Cecil saw that Essex and Ralegh were the only men considerable enough to thwart his own project of supremacy. He had disposed of Essex; he had urged him on to his ruin by appearing to favour his ambitions. Ralegh remained. And Ralegh's overthrow was deliberately schemed, and quietly carried into execution.
In Cecil's scheme the most unpleasant aspect of the time is apparent. The acquisition of home and foreign knowledge was necessarily accompanied by an intricate system of espionage. It was incumbent upon a man in Cecil's position to use spies and agents at home and abroad, to check and recheck all information that came to him. He must keep himself in touch with the under-current of feeling, in order that he might be prepared for emergency; and to a large extent upon this knowledge, which he was bound to acquire, was based his own power, and on his power he was perfectly justified in thinking that the safety of the country rested. It is for the moralist to decide between what is under-hand and what is politic. It would seem that the two were inextricably mingled, not because of the depravity of the men living at that time, but simply because of the extreme difficulty of acquiring exact information. Morality has perhaps changed less than appears on the surface. Morality, however, has been modified by the application of the powers of steam and of electricity more perceptibly than by the spread of religion. The character of life has changed rather than the character of men. Deceit is a confession of weakness, either in the deceiver or in the deceived; and the range of man's power was then limited by barriers which no longer exist.
There was a demand for spies, and therefore, according to an unwritten law, there was an ample supply. An undesirable class of man was developed because the weakness of man in grappling with the problems of time and space made that class a necessity. Continual contact with such men infected the character of Cecil, as it influenced in a less degree the character of all the greatest men of the time. Lord Henry Howard, Cecil's right hand in his secret dealings with James, was the most complete example of the species. Lord Henry Howard is the type of man on whom it is pleasant to heap abuse. Abuse is a luxury. It relieves the feelings. There is no term of abuse which is not applicable to him and to his methods. But it is well to remember that, without Cecil, this tool (however sharp) would have been powerless to do mischief. Mischief—was what these two men accomplished mischievous to the country? They were scheming primarily to bring in James VI. of Scotland to the throne of England, and to do so without involving the country in civil war. And they succeeded. James came to the throne, and civil war did not break out until some years after their death. It is interesting to know that the men who, as some think, freed England from tyranny were deeply influenced by Ralegh's writings, and it is almost certain that Ralegh was so far ahead of the thought of the time that he foresaw the disaster that must come to the country if it were hampered by a sovereign possessed with the prestige of divine right. His idea of government was far more modern in conception. Rumour, which is apt to be an exaggeration of the truth, relates that he was in favour of a republic. Probably he wanted a form of government far nearer to that which exists at the present day. He wanted a sovereign who was legally bound to be guided by his Council of State and by the wishes of the people. The days of Elizabeth's greatness showed the best features of tyranny, the days of her decline its worst features. And the worst feature is that undue power was placed in the hands of incompetent favourites.
After Elizabeth's death would have been the time to work the change without bloodshed. But that would have meant for Cecil that he must have shared his power with others. That was sufficient for Cecil. Always with Cecil his own prestige came first and blinded him to the ultimate benefit, which he sincerely wished might come to his country as it came to him.
But the warnings of Elizabeth's decline were not taken, and the prestige of her greatness was sufficient to carry on its tide the weight of her declining years and the reigns of two incompetent kings. Then matters came to such a point that only a bloody war could set them right, and the Puritan element, grown strong by abuses, triumphed, and its triumph swept away much that was valuable, and much that could ill be spared.
Sir Robert Cecil, however, and his tool, the Lord Henry Howard, determined to carry on the old tradition, and to make James VI. of Scotland King of England; and their scheme, as has been said, entailed the overthrow of Ralegh. They considered his overthrow necessary to the safety of their own position, and the safety of their own position was necessary to the welfare of the country. As a man who sees a little farther than the majority in matters of religion is apt to be called an atheist—Ralegh was called an atheist—so a man who sees a little farther in politics than the majority is apt to be called a traitor—Ralegh was called a traitor.
In November, 1601, the Duke of Lennox came into contact with Ralegh and Cobham. He had been sent by James to Henry IV. of France to win his support for James's claim to the English throne. Howard was furious that the Duke should be on terms of friendship with Ralegh; he wrote to the Earl of Mar suspicions of the Duke's fidelity, and to James that Ralegh and Cobham were his inveterate enemies. "Hell did never vomit up such a couple." That was not all. Howard knew that Cobham was weak and vacillating, he knew that many of Cobham's family were disposed to favour the Catholic cause. It would be easy to magnify any move of Cobham's in the Catholic direction into an absolute espousal of the Catholic claim. And what would be more likely than that the weak Cobham should be moved by the influence of his strong friend, Ralegh? In that way Ralegh could easily be caught in the toils of a conspiracy. The scheme was very subtle. To work its gradual fulfilment the Queen's mind must be turned against them. So Howard wrote to Cecil: "Hir Majesty must knowe the rage of their discontent for want of being called to that height which they affect; and be made to taste the perill that grows out of discontented minds.... So that roundly Hir Majestie must daily and by divers meanes be let to know the world's apprehendinge hir deepe wisdome in discerning the secret flawes of their affections. She must see some advertisements from forrain parts of the grief which the Queene's enemies doo take at their (i.e. Ralegh and Cobham) sittinge out, hoping that their placinge in authority would so far alienate the people's reverent affection as some mischief would succeed of it.... Rawlie that in pride exceedeth all men alive finds no vent for paradoxis out of a Council board ... and inspireth Cobham with his own passions. His wife as furious as Proserpina with failing of that restitution at Court which flatterie had moved her to expect." Cecil was instructed to inform the Queen of these things "that she may be more apt to receive impressions of more important reasons when time serves with opportunity." And then the crucial point of the deep plot to entrap Ralegh is clearly stated: "You must embark this gallant Cobham by your witt and interest, in some course the Spanish way as either may reveale his weaknesse or snare his ambition.... For my own part I account it impossible for him to escape the snares which wit may sett and weaknesse is apt to fall into."[C]
It is evident that Ralegh had some suspicion of what was being wrought against him; in sending a paper to the Queen against the proposals to declare a successor—the paper has unfortunately been lost—he writes a letter containing the following sentence:
"Your Majestye may, perchance, speake herof to thos seeminge my great frinds, but I finde poore effects of that or any other supposed ametye. For, your Majesty havinge left mee I am left all alone in the worlde, and am sorry that ever I was att all. What I have donn is oat of zeale and love, and not by any incorngement: for I am only forgotten in all rights and in all affaires; and myne enemis have their wills and desires over mee. Ther ar many other things concerninge your Majesty's present service, which, meethinks are not, as they ought, remembered, and the tymes pass away, unmesured, of which more profitt might be taken."
He may have known that Lord Henry Howard was mischievously inclined towards him; Howard had always been his enemy. But it is unlikely that he could have suspected Cecil, for Cecil was at the pains to show all the appearance of friendship both to him and to Lady Ralegh.
Yet Cecil was, from the beginning of his own correspondence, working against his friend. "Your Majestie," he writes to King James, "will fynde it, in your case that a choyce election of a feaw in the present wilbe of more use than any general acclamation of many." And in his third letter he praises Howard for his fidelity, and refers bitterly to Ralegh.
"I do profess in the presence of Hym that knoweth and searcheth all men's harts, that if I dyd not sometyme cast a stone into the mouth of these gaping crabbs (i.e. Ralegh and Cobham) when they are in their prodigall humour of discourses, they wold not stick to confess dayly how contrary it is to their nature to resolve to be under your soverainty; though they confess—Ralegh especially—that (rebus sic stantibus) naturall pollicy forceth them to keep on foot such a trade against the great day of mart. In all which light and soddain humours of his, though I do no way chock him, because he shall not think I reject his freedome or his affection, but alwaies ... use contestation with him that I neyther had nor ever wold in individus contemplate future idea, nor ever hoped for more than justice in time of change; yet under pretext of extraordinary care of his well-doing, I have seemed to disswade him from ingaging himself to farr, even for himself; much more therefore to forbeare to assume for me or my present intentions. Let me, therefore, presume thus farr upon your Majesties favour that whatsoever he (i.e. Ralegh) shall take uppon him to say for me, uppon any new humor of kyndnes,—wherof sometime he wilbe replete, uppon the recept of privat benefite,—you will no more believe it, if it come in other shape, be it never so much in my commendation—then that his own conscience thoght it needfull for him to undertake to keep me from any humor of inanity; when, I, thank God, my greatest adversaries and my owne sowle have ever acquited me from that, of all other vices. Wold God I were as free from ofense towards God in seeking for private affection to support a person whom most religious men do hold anathema."
This is probably one of the most crafty letters that even the astute Cecil ever wrote. He wants James to think badly of Ralegh, and he has no reason which he can urge for this. He is afraid that James may suspect his motives. He is afraid that James may hear from others of the friendship between him and Ralegh, that Ralegh may speak well of him. So he warns James against this: he hints that Ralegh will speak well of him only to gain some private benefit, fearing Cecil's inanity or animosity. Then, lest James should suspect him of such a defect, he hastens to explain that animosity is quite foreign to his nature. Only men like Ralegh would suspect him of it. Indeed, his heart is so kind that he must needs have affection for Ralegh in spite of all, in spite even (and this is a touch which would go far with the religious James) of the fact that many godly men consider Ralegh anathema, indeed, little better than an atheist.
On the surface nothing was changed. Ralegh continued to make efforts to rouse fresh interest in his colonization schemes, both in Virginia and in Guiana, but without success. He joined with Cecil in organizing privateering enterprises. He wrote to Cecil about the threatened invasion of Ireland by Spain, and warned him on no account to put trust in the friendly protestations of Florence McCarthy, whom he well knew to be a rebel. He continued to devote much energy to the duties which his Governorship of Jersey entailed. And all the while Howard and Cecil were watching him and planning his destruction. They were waiting for him to fall into one of the snares which were set for him; it mattered not whether the decoy was Arabella Stuart or the Infanta and her husband, the Count Arembergh. Cobham about this time was in communication with the Count, who was Archduke of the Netherlands, and who desired to make a peace between England and Spain. James and Cecil too desired peace with Spain, but did not wish it to come through any other channel but their own. So they watched Cobham that they might surprise him in an indiscretion, as they had watched him in his dealings with Arabella Stuart. And once they held him they could easily lay hands on the friend who had influenced the poor impressionable fellow to take a traitorous step. It would be incredible to all that such a man as Cobham was known to be could have taken such a step on his own initiative.
Failure is the cause of many crimes. While a great financier is successful, everything is forgotten in the rush to make his acquaintance and to make money. No one is indiscreet enough to inquire into his methods. If he should fail to be successful, it fares ill with him. The rush to leave him is as swift as the previous rush to be near him. His methods are exposed relentlessly, and men blush with shame to think that such a scoundrel could have been in their midst. The blush is the token of innocence (easily paid) to morality. That was recognized to be the position in all the various projects about the Succession. Whoever failed became a traitor. Exactly what Ralegh did or did not do, is not known. It is enough that he eventually got into the power of Cecil. He failed, that is to say, he was not sufficiently alert to suspect the intrigues of his friends against him.
The last years of the Queen's reign are as tragic as the last years of the woman's life. The strength of the country was in a strange way bound up with the strength of Elizabeth, and as her strength declined so did the greatness of the country. Never has a woman used her power with such magnificent results. England was the husband, for whom her life was lived, and all the greatest men in England lived fiercely to win glory and her smile of approval; and they strove the harder because within them was the knowledge (such knowledge was an inspiration) that their great Queen could also be a beautiful woman to the man who found favour in her eyes. She lived greatly, and created almost an age of great men with such puissance did she employ one side of a woman's creative power. A child is not the only new life which a woman may produce, if she has once outgrown the little limits of what is miscalled purity. Coarse, as in many ways the Elizabethan age undoubtedly was, men did not fall into the fantastic error of confusing celibacy with chastity. The body had full scope, and in consequence the spirit throve untrammelled.
But Elizabeth was growing old. To the end she kept her grip on life; but effort was necessary. In that effort alone weakness became apparent. Strength was used not to plunder life as she had plundered it hitherto, but to withstand its encroachments. She would not yield. There is something great and yet something infinitely pathetic, childish even, in her indomitable will to resist the slow inevitable power of Time.
At last illness, which she had always dreaded with superstitious horror, and against which she had always defended herself with every charm which superstition could devise, laid hold on her.
Sir Robert Carey, who was Lord Warden of the Border, came to the Court, which was then at Richmond, in March, 1603, to see his friends and to renew his acquaintance. He found the Queen ill-disposed. "I found her in one of her withdrawing rooms sitting low upon her cushions. She called me to her. I kissed her hand, and told her, It was my chiefest happiness to see her in safety and health, which I wished might long continue.
"She took me by the hand, and wrung it hard, and said, 'No, Robin, I am not well!' and then discoursed with me of her indisposition, and that her heart had been sad and heavy for ten or twelve days: and in her discourse, she fetched not so few as forty or fifty great sighs.
"I was grieved at the first to see her in this plight: for in all my lifetime before, I never knew her fetch a sigh, but when the Queen of Scots was beheaded.... I used the best words I could to persuade her from this melancholy humour; but I found by her, it was too deep rooted in her heart, and hardly to be removed. This was upon a Saturday night: and she gave command that the Great Closet should be prepared for her to go to Chapel the next morning."
But they waited in vain for her coming, she was not well enough to attend the service. From that day her body grew weaker and weaker. She felt that death was approaching, and grimly she welcomed the approach of death. With a kind of fierce disdain she refused all food, and she refused to leave the chair in which she sat waiting. Night and day in silence she sat staring in front of her, face to face with death. Music was played to her in the hope that it might dispel the black gloom which had settled upon her. She did not hear the music. She sat motionless in her chair staring in front of her, greater than Cleopatra, but without the solace of the asp's quick kiss. Her eyes had no expression in them now. Her waiting-women were terrified. Cecil came to her and told her "to content the people she must go to bed." Then she spoke, saying that "must was not a word fit to be used to princes;" she dismissed Cecil from her presence, and as he went away she spoke again. "Little man, little man," she said, "if your father had lived ye durst not have said so much, but ye know I must die, and that makes ye so presumptuous." Lord Admiral Howard, Earl of Nottingham, remained with her. At last she spoke to him. "My lord, I am tied with a chain of iron about my neck." He bade her have courage, but she answered in a low voice, "I am tied, I am tied, and the case is altered with me."
Her waiting women were terrified. The powers of darkness seemed at play in the Palace at Richmond. Lady Southwell affirms that the queen of hearts was nailed under the Queen's chair, the nail through the forehead; "they durst not pull it out remembering that the like thing was used to the old Countess of Sussex and afterwards proved a witchcraft for which certain persons were hanged as instruments of the same." Lady Guildford left the Queen, as she thought, sleeping, but saw her walking from one room to another; she hurried back, and there she found the Queen still, as she thought, sleeping. Lady Guildford swore that it must have been the Queen's ghost which she had seen, while the Queen was yet living.
At length, after this long vigil of four days and four nights staring in the face of death, she was constrained to lie down in her bed. But the tired old woman might not die in peace; while she breathed she was Queen of England.
"By signs she called for her Council: and by putting her hand to her head," writes Sir Robert Carey, "when the King of Scots was named to succeed her, they all knew he was the man she desired should reign after her." It is easy to see how the astute Cecil would construe the dying Queen's movements into the right meaning for his own schemes. There is something fantastic in this solemn farce played round the great Queen's death-bed, made more fantastic and more terrible by the fact that it sprang from her own strange detestation of naming a successor. "Being given over by all and at the last gasp keeping still her sense in everything and giving apt answers, though she spake but seldom, having then a sore throat, the council required admittance, and she wished to wash her throat that she might answer freely to what they demanded which was to know whom she would have for king. Her throat troubling her much they desired her to hold up her finger when they named who she liked; whereupon they named the King of France (this was to try her intellect), she never stirred; the King of Scotland, she made no sign; then they named Lord Beauchamp—this was the heir of Seymour ... and words came to the dying lips, 'I will have—no rascal's son—in my seat—but one—worthy—to be a king,'" The effort of speech convulsed her: she put her hands to her head: her head was in pain: and Cecil pointed out how evident it was that she meant, a crowned king should rule in her stead. That is the irony of things: the State left: the Church entered.
"About six at night she made signs for the Archbishop, and her Chaplains to come to her, at which time I went in with them; and sat upon my knees full of tears to see that heavy sight.
"Her Majesty lay upon her back; with one hand in the bed, and the other without.
"The Archbishop kneeled down by her, and examined her first of her faith: and she so punctually answered all his several questions by lifting up her eyes and holding up her hand, as it was a comfort to all beholders.
"Then the good man told her plainly, What she was; and what she was come to: and though she had been long a great Queen here upon earth, yet shortly she was to yield an account of her stewardship to the King of Kings.
"After this he began to pray: and all that were by did answer him. After he had continued long in prayer, till the old man's knees were weary, he blessed her, and meant to rise and leave her.
"The Queen made a sign with her hand.
"My sister Scroope, knowing her meaning, told the Bishop, the Queen desired he would pray still.
"He did so for a long half-hour after, and then thought to have left her. The second time she made sign to have him continue in prayer. He did so for half an hour more, with earnest cries to God for her soul's health, which he uttered with that fervency of spirit as the Queen, to all our sight, much rejoiced thereat: and gave testimony to us all of her Christian and comfortable end. By this time it grew late; and every one departed: all but her women that attended her."
That evening Queen Elizabeth died.
Every precaution had been taken that the news of her death might not precede the Council's power of action. Every gate was locked; every approach was guarded. But Sir Robert Carey, the dead Queen's kinsman, realized, like many another, that all his means of life were now at the disposal of the new king, whoever he might be, and so he determined to be the bearer of the tidings to James of Scotland. He had quietly made his preparations for the emergency, and his sister, Philadelphia Lady Scroope, had in her possession a ring which would prove to James that the news of the Queen's death was authentic. It was necessary to take every precaution against treachery in such a crisis. How far Cecil knew of Carey's complicity with James is not certain. Probably James had kept it secret: he was not apt to trust any man wholly.
Carey found some difficulty in getting away, but he gave money to the right men and succeeded. Lady Scroope had been unable to give him the sapphire ring, "but waiting at the window till she saw him at the outside of the gate she threw it out to him; and he well knew to what purpose he received it." Efforts were made to detain him, but he managed to evade them, and next night at ten o'clock he started his great ride to the north, to bear the tidings to James at Edinburgh. That Thursday night he rode to Doncaster, which is one hundred and sixty-two miles from London.
"The Friday night I came to my own house at Widdrington (298 miles), and presently took order with my Deputies to see the Borders kept in quiet; which they had much to do; and gave order, the next morning, the King of Scotland should be proclaimed King of England and at Morpeth and at Alnwick. Very early on Saturday I took horse for Edinburgh and came to Norham (331 miles) about twelve at noon. So that I might well have been with the King at supper time: but I got a great fall by the way, and my horse, with one of his heels, gave me a great blow on the head that made me shed much blood. It made me so weak, that I was forced to ride a soft pace after: so that the King was newly gone to bed by the time I knocked at the gate."
The King received him immediately and at once asked him, on hearing of the Queen's death, what message he brought from the Council. Sir Robert Carey bore no message, but he gave the King the blue ring; and the King said, "It is enough. I know by this that you are a true messenger."
Every attention was paid to the messenger, worn out by his great ride and his fall. In four days he recovered and he was sworn one of the gentlemen of the bedchamber; "and presently I helped to take off his clothes and stayed till he was in bed.
"After this, there came, daily, Gentlemen and Noblemen from our Court; and the King set down a fixed day for his departure towards London."
The day fixed was April 5th, 1603.