by Alison Weir
Two weeks later, another Portuguese connected with Dr Lopez, Gomez d'Avila, was arrested as a suspected spy at Sandwich. Ferreira warned Lopez that, if arrested, Gomez might incriminate them, and Lopez replied that he had thrice tried to prevent Gomez from coming to England. These letters were intercepted by Essex's spies.
Informed that Lopez had betrayed him, Ferreira swore that Lopez had been in the pay of Spain for years. Gomez, threatened with the rack, confessed that they had all been involved in a plot against Don Antonio. Another Portuguese, Tinoco, revealed to Essex under interrogation that the Jesuits in Spain had sent him to England to help Ferreira persuade Lopez to work for King Philip. Essex, almost paranoid where Spain was concerned, suspected that the subtext to these confessions was a plot against the Queen's life.
This led to Lopez's arrest on 1 January. He was confined in Essex House (formerly Leicester House), while his own house was searched. Nothing incriminating was found, and when he was examined by Burghley, Cecil and Essex, he gave convincing answers. Burghley and Cecil went to Hampton Court to tell the Queen they were certain that the man who had served her devotedly for years was innocent, and that the whole episode had been blown up out of proportion by Essex in an attempt to whip up popular support for a new offensive against Spain.
Essex was convinced otherwise, but when he went to the Queen, she accused him of acting out of malice, calling him 'a rash and temerarious youth to enter into the matter against the poor man, which he could not prove, but whose innocence she knew well enough'. Silencing him with a gesture, she dismissed him. He spent the next two days prostrate with fury and humiliation, then rallied, determined for honour's sake to prove that he was right and score a point against the Cecils. He had Lopez moved to the Tower and, hardly pausing to eat or sleep, interrogated the other suspects a second time. Under torture, or the threat of it, they insisted that the doctor was involved in the plot, and had agreed to poison the Queen for 50,000 crowns. This was the evidence which Essex was looking for, and on 28 January he wrote to Anthony Bacon: 'I have discovered a most dangerous and desperate treason. The point of conspiracy was Her Majesty's death. The executioner should have been Dr Lopez; the manner poison.'
His claim was lent credence by Tinoco's statement that, three years before, King Philip had sent Lopez a diamond and ruby ring. The Queen recalled that the doctor had offered her such a ring at that time, which she had refused. Lopez had firmly denied everything, but when faced with the Queen's testimony about the ring, admitted that in 1587, at Walsingham's behest, he had agreed to his name being used in a plot orchestrated by former ambassador Mendoza against Don Antonio, but only to deceive King Philip. Walsingham was of course dead, and could not corroborate this lame-sounding explanation, and it cost Lopez the support of the Cecils. There is, though, no reason to doubt that during Walsingham's lifetime Lopez acted for him as a secret agent. Indeed, papers discovered more recently in the Spanish archives substantiate his story and suggest he was indeed innocent, although the truth will probably never be fully known.
Worn down and terrified, the old man gave in, confessing to all kinds of improbable plots and sealing his fate. In February, he, Ferreira and Tinoco were arraigned for treason and sentenced to death. The people, outraged at this latest evidence of Spanish treachery, were in no doubt as to the guilt of the Jew and his accomplices, but the Queen was much troubled, fearing that her judges had convicted an innocent man simply to preserve Essex's honour: it would be four months before she could steel herself to sign Lopez's death warrant.
At Hampton Court, Elizabeth grew restless, wondering whether she might not be better off at Windsor. Several times she gave orders to pack in readiness for a move, and as many times changed her mind. After being summoned for the third time, the carter hired to transport Her Majesty's belongings was disgruntled to be sent away yet again.
'Now I see that the Queen is a woman as well as my wife,' he sighed, but Elizabeth had heard him through her window and put her head out, laughing.
'What a villain is this!' she cried, then sent him three gold coins to 'stop his mouth'. Soon afterwards, she decided to move to Nonsuch, where, on 26 March, she finally appointed Coke Attorney-General, much to the dismay of Essex, who interpreted this as a victory for the Cecils. However, he immediately suggested that Francis Bacon be given the vacated post of Solicitor-General. Elizabeth told him that she could not promote a man she disapproved of just because he, Essex, asked her to, whereupon he stalked off'in passion, saying I would retire till I might be more graciously heard'. In fact, the Queen did not appoint a new Solicitor-General for eighteen months, during which time Essex relentlessly pursued his suit, precipitating endless quarrels and reconciliations. Bacon's mother felt that 'the Earl marred all by violent courses', but there were times when the Queen appeared to be wavering, as when she opined to Fulke Greville that 'Bacon begins to frame very well'. For both her and Essex, however, this was a test of whose will was the strongest, and neither were prepared to give in.
On 7 June, before a howling, jeering mob, Lopez and his alleged accomplices were hanged, drawn and quartered at Tyburn, Lopez protesting to the last that he loved his mistress better than Jesus Christ. The Queen, concerned at what Essex's power had wrought and still not wholly convinced of Lopez's guilt, returned some of the dead man's forfeited property to his widow and daughter, retaining only King Philip's ring, which she wore on her finger until she died.
It was a terrible summer. Rain fell ceaselessly, ruining the harvest, which in Tudor times meant a dearth that would inexorably lead to famine and inflated prices.
In July, Elizabeth gave Essex , 4000 to defray his debts, saying, 'Look to thyself, good Essex, and be wise to help thyself without giving thy enemies advantage, and my hand shall be readier to help thee than any other.' Yet when it came to favours for his friends, she would give him nothing. He had, however, grown in prestige as a statesman, and also increased his popularity with the people. James VI was now his friend, and English ambassadors abroad would send him separate reports of international affairs. He employed four secretaries to deal with his correspondence, while his spies kept him supplied with confidential and often useful information.
There was one moment of panic, however. In Antwerp, an inflammatory book entitled A Conference about the Next Succession to the Crown of England had been printed, and its author, the Jesuit Robert Parsons, had dedicated it to 'the Most Noble Earl of Essex, for that no man is in more high and eminent dignity at this day in our realm'. The book discussed the claims of all Elizabeth's possible successors, and called on Essex to play the part of kingmaker on her death. Knowing Elizabeth's views on any speculation about the succession, Essex was highly embarrassed to have his name associated with such a subversive work, and by the suggestion that he should determine a matter that was strictly a-question of royal prerogative, and was 'infinitely troubled'. When the Queen showed him the book, he greatly feared her reaction, but, much to his relief, she made little of it, realising that he had been the victim of a Catholic attempt to discredit him.
The following summer brought a return of the wet weather, and there was a second poor harvest, which resulted in a worse famine that winter. Many people died, and the buoyant mood that had marked the period after the Armada rapidly disintegrated.
In July 1595, four Spanish ships made a daring raid on Cornwall, burning Penzance and sacking the village of Mousehole. Alarmed by this, Queen and Council ordered that England's coastal defences be strengthened.
Elizabeth was still resisting intense pressure from Essex to appoint Francis Bacon Solicitor-General. Provoked beyond endurance, she screamed that she would 'seek all England for a solicitor' rather than accept the man, and in October, she slighted Bacon by appointing a little-known lawyer, Thomas Fleming, to the post. Essex was devastated, and unfairly blamed the Cecils who had in fact supported Bacon, but even he realised that there was no point in putting his friend forward for any other major offices, and by way of compensatio
n, he made over to Bacon some property, which Bacon sold for _ i 800.
Accession Day, 17 November, was marked by the usual splendid jousts and celebrations at Whitehall. The Queen entertained the Dutch ambassador in the gallery, and discussed with him a new offensive against Spain whilst smiling and nodding to the watching crowd and the knights jousting below.
As usual Essex took centre stage in the tiltyard, but this year, in the evening, he put on an allegorical entertainment devised by Francis Bacon, in which three actors representing a soldier (Raleigh), a hunchbacked secretary (Cecil) and an aged hermit (Burghley) asked him 'to leave his vain following of love' for a goddess and choose a life either of experience, fame or contemplation. Then an actor dressed as his squire declared 'that this knight would never forsake his mistress's love, whose virtues made all his thoughts divine, whose wisdom taught him true policy, whose beauty and worth were at all times able to make him fit to command armies'. Here was a heavy hint, if ever there was one, but Elizabeth chose to ignore it.
The entertainment ended with Essex forsaking the goddess to devote himself to Love by serving his Queen; in his final speech, he made several vicious thrusts at the Cecils. 'My Lord of Essex's device is much commended in these late triumphs,' observed a spectator, but Elizabeth herself commented that, 'if she had thought there had been so much said of her, she would not have been there that night'.
Drake was now back in favour, and had suggested a further raid on Panama, in the hope of diverting King Philip and, of course, seizing more Spanish treasure, and the Queen agreed to this. But England's hero never came home: when his fleet returned, having achieved nothing, in the spring of 1596, it brought with it news of his death from dysentery on 29 January at Panama, where he was buried at sea.
By 1596, Cecil had become 'the greatest councillor of England, the Queen passing most of the day in private and secret conference with him'. Essex, however, was becoming bored with state duties, and people noticed that 'His Lordship is wearied and scorneth the dissembling courses of this place.' He was yearning for adventure and martial achievement.
His longings were to be fulfilled, for that spring Elizabeth, anticipating that Philip would send his new Armada in the summer, was preparing for an English expedition to destroy Philip's new fleet. She, Essex and Effingham were the chief investors, helping to provide 150 ships and 10,000 men. Elizabeth herself contributed , 50,000.
The eager Essex was the obvious choice to command the expedition, but Elizabeth, as usual, was 'daily in a change of humour', even threatening to call off the whole thing. 'The Queen wrangles with our action for no cause but because it is in hand,' complained the Earl. 'I know I shall never do her service but against her will.' He had laboured hard to persuade her to agree to this enterprise, but if she continued to behave like this, he vowed he would 'become a monk upon an hour's warning'.
In March, the Queen, with poor grace, agreed to appoint Essex and Lord Howard of Effingham joint commanders, and Essex, in such a good mood that he had even set aside his enmity towards the Cecils, went happily off to Plymouth to take charge of the fleet and muster his men. Then, on 16 May, came a message: having heard the alarming news that a Spanish army had occupied Calais, the Queen required both Essex and Lord Howard to return to her presence, 'they being so dear unto her and such persons of note, as she could not allow of their going'. This caused an uproar, both at court and in Plymouth, but the Queen, who had worked herself into a frenzy of anxiety, ignored the protests. Essex had forced her to send this expedition against her will, she protested. Burghley tried to calm her, but matters were made worse when Raleigh, newly returned from a voyage to Guiana, suddenly appeared at court, begging forgiveness and asking to be appointed supreme commander above Essex and Howard.
When Elizabeth had recovered from these confrontations, she was persuaded that the expedition had the best chance of success if Essex and Howard were allowed to remain as joint commanders, and she reluctantly agreed to this, grudgingly appointing Raleigh Rear Admiral.
Essex was so relieved he made peace with Raleigh, telling him, 'This is the action and the time in which you and I shall both be taught to know and love one another.'
Soon, all was ready, and an anxious Elizabeth sent Fulke Greville to Plymouth with a farewell letter for Essex: 'I make this humble bill of request to Him that all makes and does, that with His benign hand He will shadow you so, as all harm may light beside you, and all that may be best hap to your share; that your return may make you better, and me gladder. Go you in God's blessed name.' There was also a humorous note from Cecil: 'The Queen says, because you are poor, she sends you five shillings.' Enclosed was a prayer composed by Elizabeth to be read aloud to her troops: 'May God speed the victory, with least loss of English blood.' This boosted morale tremendously, and Essex wrote, 'It would please Her Majesty well to see th'effect of her own words.'
Lord Hunsdon's death that spring had plunged his cousin the Queen into a melancholy mood. Around this time, she promoted Essex's friend, Sir Thomas Egerton, an excellent and experienced lawyer, to be Lord Keeper of the Great Seal, an office that was revived whenever there was no Lord Chancellor. His seals of office were handed to him by the Queen in a ceremony in the Privy Chamber. Elizabeth appeared in a gold satin gown edged with silver, and stood beneath her canopy of estate on a rich Turkey carpet. She observed to Egerton that she had begun with a Lord Keeper, Sir Nicholas Bacon - 'and he was a wise man, I tell you' - and would end with a Lord Keeper.
'God forbid, Madam,' cut in Burghley, who was present, seated in a chair because of his gout. 'I hope you shall bury four or five more.'
'No, this is the last,' said Elizabeth, and burst into tears at the prospect of encroaching mortality. The embarrassed Egerton hastily agreed that Bacon had indeed been a wise man, but Elizabeth only cried more loudly, 'clapping her hand to her heart'. Then, turning to go to her bedchamber, she paused, remembering that Burghley would have to be carried from the audience in his chair and said briskly, 'None of the Lord Treasurer's men will come to fetch him so long as I am here. Therefore I will be gone.'
When she reached the door, she remembered that Egerton had not taken the customary oath of allegiance required by his office, and, still weeping, cried, 'He will never be an honest man until he be sworn. Swear him! Swear him!'
On 3 June, Elizabeth formally appointed Cecil Secretary of State, a post he had filled in all but name since 1590. On the same day, the expedition sailed for Spain, where, the following month, Essex carried out a daring and highly successful raid on the rich port of Cadiz, 'the Pearl of Andalusia', where some of Philip's ships were being kept in readiness for the invasion of England. Taken unawares, Spanish forces in the area could do little, and for two weeks, English troops ransacked and burned the town, mostly ignoring Essex's orders to spare its churches and religious houses. 'If any man had a desire to see Hell itself, it was then most lively figured,' observed Raleigh, who particularly distinguished himself during the fighting, although he was severely wounded in the leg and had to walk with a stick for some time afterwards. It was, in fact, he who had made some of the critical decisions that had ensured success, but as his rival Essex was determined to take all the credit himself, Raleigh's praises remained unsung. Predictably, the reconciliation between the two did not long survive Cadiz.
When Elizabeth received the first reports of the victory, she wrote to Essex, 'You have made me famous, dreadful and renowned, not more for your victory than for your courage. Let the army know I care not so much for being Queen, as that I am sovereign of such subjects.'
Flushed with success, Essex botched the ransoming of a Spanish merchant fleet trapped in the harbour; its owners decided to burn their ships rather than lose the twenty million ducats on board to the English. Undaunted, Essex decided that, rather than go on to attack Lisbon where the bulk of Philip's Armada lay, his forces should try to intercept the Spanish treasure fleet as it left port, bound for the Indies, but his colleagues overruled him, thereb
y depriving the English of the chance to seize thousands of pounds worth of booty. To make matters worse, Essex gave most of the loot from Cadiz to his men, rather than reserving it for the Queen.
Essex had at last achieved his ambition and proved himself a hero, and when he returned to England, sporting a newly-grown spade-shaped beard, it was to the acclaim of a grateful, adoring nation, who saw in him a second Drake or Scipio: 'He took a charter of the people's hearts which was never cancelled.' Preachers praised him as a champion of Protestantism, and spoke of his honour, justice and wisdom. There was no doubt that he was the most popular and important man in the kingdom.
Chapter 24
'We Are Evil Served'
Elizabeth shared the public's jubilation over Cadiz, which further enhanced her reputation in Europe - the Venetians were now calling her 'the Queen of the Seas' - but she was more concerned about cost than glory, and when Essex returned she did not heap praises and thanks on him, as he expected, but sourly asked him to account for his expenditure, desiring to know what 'great profit and gain' she was to get on her investment. Essex was forced to admit what she already knew, that there was none; in fact, more money was needed to pay his men. Elizabeth snapped that she had known everyone but herself would make a profit, and reluctantly loaned Essex ,2000 for wages, demanding that he pay it all back.
It was not only money that caused her irritation. She was also jealous of Essex's success and his all-too-evident popularity with her subjects. It made her feel insecure, for, given his instability, he could, under the influence of her enemies, prove dangerous when he commanded such support. She would not allow him to publish a pamphlet describing his heroic exploits, and when someone suggested that services of thanksgiving be held all over the country, she insisted that they take place in London only. She could not bear to hear people praising him, and made derogatory remarks in Council about his military strategies.