Ignoring the respect that was due to the Queen, he determinedly defended his sister. The Queen was not used to such behaviour from her favourites, and neither did she take kindly to it. A fierce confrontation between the pair ensued, during the course of which Essex remembered that ‘she came to speak bitterly against my mother, which, because I could not endure to see me and my house disgraced, I told her, for my sister she should not any longer disquiet her’.13 Though it was almost midnight, Essex ‘had no joy to be in any place’, and after sending ‘my men away with my sister’, he too fled from Northaw in a furious rage.14 The Queen’s venom for Lettice was still as poisonous as ever, and the latter certainly came to hear of the episode; Essex ended his account of the fraught exchange by urging its recipient that if he were to show anybody, ‘let it be to my mother’.15 Although Lettice would have supported her son in his defence of his sister, she was astute enough to realize that such outbursts were dangerous. Essex would have to watch his step.
On this occasion he was fortunate. He was determined to re-join his stepfather in the Netherlands, and having fled Northaw he began to make his way towards the coast. However, the Queen sent Lettice’s cousin, Robert Carey, to prevent him from leaving the country and to persuade him to return to court. He did so, and within a few days he and the Queen had patched up their differences, and he once more basked in her favour. All signs of any animosity between them had disappeared; be that as it may, the rivalry between Essex and Ralegh had not.
AS THE SUMMER and autumn drew to a close, Lettice was delighted to learn that her husband would soon be home once again. Aside from Zutphen, his military mission had achieved very little, and his return to the Netherlands had been plagued with problems. The Dutch captains refused to cooperate with him, and as such he and his allies had lost the opportunity to relieve the town of Sluys that was besieged by Parma, much to Leicester’s frustration. Matters between him and his Dutch allies deteriorated so much that Leicester informed the Queen that he felt he could progress no further in her service there. On 10 November, Elizabeth recalled him, and this time his return home would be permanent. Before he left, he had a silver medal struck to commemorate his time there. On the reverse is an image of a sheepdog leaving his flock, inscribed with the words ‘Unwillingly I forsake … not the flock, but the unthankful.’16 For Lettice’s brothers, though, in personal terms the campaign had been a success. William had been knighted at Zutphen, and in 1586 Thomas had distinguished himself so far that he was made Governor of Ostend. It was while he was abroad that, in 1588, he met and fell in love with Odelia, the daughter of the Duke of Bergen. The couple were married, and together had a daughter, Penelope.
On 4 December, it was reported from Flushing that ‘The Earl of Leicester is leaving for England, his baggage being already shipped. He is on bad terms with the rebels.’17 Three days later, before embarking for home Leicester took the time to knight his brother-in-law, Francis, who joined him on his return journey. For some months the Earl had been suffering from bouts of ill health, which was a cause of concern to Lettice. When he returned home later that month, she was shocked to discover just how much his health had deteriorated. He was worn down from the constant anxiety he had suffered during his mission, and suffered from gout, for the relief of which he had travelled to Buxton on several occasions. While abroad he had also complained of ‘the stone’, which could indicate any manner of stomach problems, or even kidney stones.
Although Leicester’s time in the Netherlands had achieved little, he had now done his duty for Queen and country. He was exhausted, and at fifty-five years old it was time for him to content himself with his domestic duties. The recovery of his health was now a primary concern. However, as 1587 came to a close and the new year set in, neither he nor Lettice can have had any idea that matters in England were about to take a drastic turn.
IT HAD BEEN nearly a year since the execution of Mary, Queen of Scots, but the former queen’s death had not been forgotten, least of all by Catholic Europe. Queen Elizabeth’s support of the Dutch against Spain had also served to further fuel Philip II’s hostility towards England. Most people in England, Lettice included, were aware of the increasing threat posed by Spain; the time had now come for Philip to act.
Sure enough, Philip planned an invasion of England that aimed to depose Elizabeth and reinstate Catholicism throughout the land. The threat posed by Spain was of great concern to the Queen and her councillors, and even more worrying was the fact that Philip’s campaign had the blessing of Pope Sixtus V, who actively supported the King’s plans. Philip began to assemble a mighty fleet of ships, which totalled 130 and carried a huge crew and mass of weaponry. On 28 May, Philip’s Spanish Armada set sail from Lisbon and began its journey to England – and invasion.
When word of the Armada reached the Queen, she and her Council deliberated over the best course of action. Leicester was no longer a young man, and coupled with his illness, he did not possess the same enthusiastic energy that he had once had. Even so, he had been by the Queen’s side for the entirety of her reign, and he was not prepared to abandon her now. In spite of his own personal circumstances, he was actively involved in the military preparations that were underway, and threw himself into the creation of a military camp at Tilbury across the Thames. This was as far as his contribution went, and on this occasion others would be at the forefront. Nevertheless, he knew that his advice was still of great importance to Elizabeth, and on 27 July he wrote to her from Gravesend. The priority, he believed, was for the Queen to ‘gather her army about her in the strongest manner possible, some special nobleman to be placed at the head of it, and to be officered with the oldest and best assured captains’.18 Following this, the Queen, ‘the most dainty and sacred thing we have in this world to care for’, ought to retire to Havering in order to secure her safety.19 He ended by professing that he would ‘offer his body, life, and all to do her service’.20 They were heartfelt sentiments, but ones that would not be necessary.
Although the fleet was delayed by bad weather, on 19 July the Armada was sighted off the coast of Cornwall. The news was hurriedly conveyed to London, and as Robert Carey noted apprehensively in his memoirs, ‘the King of Spain’s great Armada came upon our coast, thinking to devour us all’.21 Two days later, under the command of Lord Howard of Effingham and the Vice Admiral Sir Francis Drake, the English fleet engaged the Armada off the coast of Plymouth. Though the Spanish ships soon retreated to Calais where they dropped anchor, the English moved quickly and engaged them in battle at Gravelines on 29 July. By this time the Spanish had lost many of their ships, due largely to adverse weather conditions. But this did not lessen their determination to fight. Even so, it was the English who now had the upper hand, for it was they who had the larger force. In the course of the fighting, fifty Englishmen were killed, as opposed to two thousand Spanish. It was the weather, though, that eventually determined the outcome. Shortly after the battle at Gravelines, the wind changed, forcing the Spanish fleet off course and scattering the remaining Spanish ships. While Lord Howard initially pursued the broken fleet as they retreated, there was no need for him to do anything more: the result was conclusive. As Robert Carey joyfully noted, much to everyone’s great relief and against all odds, after much indecisive action ‘Thus did God bless us, and gave victory over this invincible navy.’22 Many viewed the winds that had scattered the Spanish ships as a sign from God, who had intervened to prevent England’s ruin. The Armada had been defeated, and the crippled fleet attempted to return to their native land. Both the ships and the men were in a poor condition, and only sixty-seven of Philip’s original imposing fleet survived; some of the ships were driven on to the rocks on the coast of Ireland, where many of the men drowned or were killed as they made their way on to the shore. Others were subjected to strong North Atlantic storms and ran out of food and water, resulting in many of the crewmen dying of cold, starvation or disease thanks to the cramped conditions. The Spanish Armada posed one of the m
ost serious threats of Elizabeth’s reign, and the danger had not entirely passed: when Philip learned that his fleet had been defeated, despite his humiliation he made it clear that this was not the end. He was true to his word, but two further armadas in 1596 and 1597 both failed due to perilous weather.
THROUGHOUT THE DAYS of danger and uncertainty, Lettice had remained in London. Leicester, meanwhile, had been by the Queen’s side, facilitating a trip to Tilbury for her on 8 and 9 August. It was here that, on 9 August, Elizabeth delivered a memorable speech to the land troops who had assembled in preparation to fight the Armada. Sat on her horse with Leicester to her right and Essex on her left, the Queen bravely told her men that although ‘I have the body of a weak, feeble woman; but I have the heart and stomach of a king, and of a king of England too, and think foul scorn that Parma or Spain, or any prince of Europe, should dare to invade the borders of my realm.’23 At this most critical of points in her reign, though she was estranged from Lettice, it is at least significant that the two men who were by Elizabeth’s side – the most important in her life – were also beloved by Lettice. Whether the two women liked it or not, blood ties aside, their relationships with Leicester and Essex would ensure that they were always closely bound.
By now Leicester was thoroughly exhausted, but he returned to London with the Queen where a host of celebrations were staged to mark the defeat of the Armada. He was determined to be by her side in order to share in this most triumphant of moments with her, and she was happy to have him there. He was there when a joust was staged at which his stepson, Essex, ran ‘two tilts’ against the Earl of Cumberland. Here it was observed that ‘As they are two of the best horsemen in the country the spectators were much pleased at this.’24 Leicester’s stay at court was brief, and, in need of a break, on 27 August he left London and the Queen behind. He intended to spend the remainder of the summer and the autumn regaining his health, and enjoying some much needed quality time with Lettice. As he had bade the Queen farewell in his usual fond terms, though he was exhausted his health gave Elizabeth no cause for alarm; she fully expected him to return to her side again soon, in the same way that he always had done. Neither she nor Leicester had any idea that they would never see one another again.
In the hope of finding the ‘perfect cure’ for his illness, Leicester and Lettice planned to travel to Buxton in order that the Earl might take the restorative waters. They intended to break their journey at Kenilworth, where three years previously their summer holiday had been brought to a sudden end. Two days after leaving London, the couple had made it as far as Rycote, the beautiful Oxfordshire home of Sir Henry Norris. Norris had a close connection with Lettice’s family, for his father had been one of those who had been executed for his alleged adultery with Anne Boleyn, Lettice’s great-aunt.25 He was a good friend of Leicester’s, and his wife Marjory was close to the Queen.26 While Leicester and Lettice enjoyed the Norris’s hospitality, Leicester’s health remained troublesome to him. The Queen had sent him some medicine, and he wrote to her assuring her of its benefits: ‘For my own poor case, I continue still your medicine and find that [it] amends much better than any other thing that hath been given me. Thus hoping to find perfect cure at the bath, with the continuance of my wonted prayer for your Majesty’s most happy preservation, I humbly kiss your foot.’27 His adoration for her was still strong, but it would be the last occasion on which he would ever write to her. The Queen would later endorse it sadly as ‘his last letter’.28
At the time he wrote, Leicester’s illness drew no further cause for alarm, and he felt well enough to continue travelling. Both he and Lettice were gratified when Essex wrote to his stepfather from the court, informing him of his great favour with the Queen: ‘Since your lordship’s departure her Majesty hath been earnest with me to lie in the court, and this morning she sent to me that I might lie in your lordship’s lodging.’29 Given that Leicester’s lodgings lay close to the Queen’s own, this was a sign of the utmost favour, although Essex hurried to assure his stepfather that he had forborne to accept until he received his permission.
From Rycote, the Leicesters travelled the twenty-five miles to the former royal hunting lodge of Cornbury Park, when it became clear that the Earl’s illness was of a serious nature. Cornbury was located just a short distance from Wychwood Forest, and Leicester had occasionally used it for hunting parties. Now was no time for hunting, and instead Leicester took to his bed. It is evident that those around him – including Lettice – expected him to recover. Word of his illness reached court, and it was from here that on 2 September, Lettice’s father wrote to him. He was clearly not unduly concerned by his son-in-law’s fragile health, for the main topic of Sir Francis’s letter was business. Nevertheless, ‘I have heard since that your lordship hath been troubled and stayed with an ague at Cornbury Park whereof I am very sorry,’ he wrote.30 Taking the opportunity to advise Leicester as to the best course to take in order to restore his health, Knollys continued, ‘I trust in God that through your lordship’s foresight and good order of diet, that you will easily and soon dispatch yourself thereof with good recovery of your health again in short time.’31 Tragically it was not to be.
On 4 September, Lettice was by her husband’s side when Leicester passed away at Cornbury.32 Commissioned on her orders, his epitaph describes her as his ‘most sorrowful wife’, and his death came as a devastating blow to her. They had only been married for ten years, and theirs had been a marriage that was based on friendship, love and mutual respect. With Leicester now gone, Lettice had not only lost her husband but also her protector.
According to Camden, the fifty-six-year-old Leicester had died ‘of a continual fever’, which is likely to have been malaria.33 A Spanish report, though, recorded that on his way to Buxton, ‘in the house of a gentleman near Oxford, it is said he supped heavily, and being troubled with distress in the stomach during the night he forced himself to vomit. This brought on a tertian fever, which increased to such an extent on the third day that on Wednesday, fourth instant, at ten o’clock in the morning, he expired.’34 The same observer continued to report on his memories of the Earl, as well as the reaction at his death:
The last time I saw him was at the Earl of Essex’s review, at the window with the Queen. On the previous week I had seen him go all through the city, accompanied by as many gentlemen as if he were a king, and followed by his household and a troop of light horse. He was going from a country house of his (Wanstead) to St James’s, and was quite alone in his coach. He had gone through a few days before on horseback, even more splendidly accompanied, and showed every appearance of perfect health, as if he would have lived for years. For the last few months he has usually dined with the Queen, a thing, they say, such as has never been seen in this country before. He was a man of great authority and following, and his death will be much felt; but, on the other hand, the general opinion is that the conclusion of peace will be much easier than before, as he was usually in favour of war. God decree all for His greater glory!35
The reporter was right in thinking that the Earl’s death would be much felt, for it was not only Lettice and her family who were left heartbroken by Leicester’s loss. His death shocked the court, even more so because it came so unexpectedly. The other woman in Leicester’s life, Elizabeth, was completely grief-stricken when the news of her favourite’s death was broken to her, causing the celebrations that had been staged for the defeat of the Armada to come grinding to a halt. Her sorrow was all genuine, for in Leicester she had lost not only her closest companion, but also the man who she had truly loved. In the blink of an eye the happiness that she had been experiencing after her recent victory had been taken from her. No other man had ever come close to supplanting him in her affections: it had always been Leicester. Elizabeth was so heartbroken that on 17 September, nearly two weeks after his death, a Spanish report recorded the extent of her grief:
The Queen is sorry for his death, but no other person in the country. She was so
grieved that for some days she shut herself in her chamber alone, and refused to speak to anyone until the Treasurer and other Councillors had the doors broken open and entered to see her.36
Leicester had been a constant figure for much of Elizabeth’s life, and for the entirety of her reign he had been by her side to offer her advice, friendship, support and love. Although a marriage between them had never transpired, their love for one another had remained mutual – despite the form that this took changing over time – and he had been wholeheartedly loyal to her. For the past decade she had been forced to share his heart and his affections with a member of her own family, but had ultimately – in her eyes at least – remained his first priority. But perhaps Leicester’s marriage to Lettice had left Elizabeth wondering what might have been – the very nature of her role as sovereign ensured that the dynamics of their relationship were different from that shared by Leicester and Lettice, but Elizabeth may have been left thinking that they could still have found happiness. In an attempt to treasure his memory, Elizabeth kept Leicester’s last letter in a locked casket for the rest of her life. She was left utterly bereft by his loss, but even now she could not bring herself to reconcile with Leicester’s widow. As is so often the case in times of grief, the feelings that Elizabeth experienced towards Lettice could have involved fresh anger, jealousy and blame at all that had passed between them. In her Sweet Robin’s final moments, it had been Lettice, rather than Elizabeth, who had been by his side, and never again would Elizabeth be able to look upon him, or to talk with him and share one of their private jokes. Elizabeth had no thought for Lettice’s feelings, and Leicester’s wife remained banished with no word of condolence; the Queen felt that the loss was all hers. It was as if Lettice simply did not exist.
Elizabeth's Rival Page 28