"Let tyrants fear. I have always so behaved myself the under God I have placed my chiefest strength and safeguard in the loyal hearts and good will of my subjects. And therefore I am come among you...to lay down for God and for my kingdom and for my people my honour and my blood even in the dust." Elizabeth at Tilbury Field, August 9, 1588.

The last 15 years of Elizabeth's reign were darkened by political misfortunes while they were also backlit by the the artistic glories of the age of Sidney, Spenser, Marlowe and Shakespeare, the navigational achievements of Drake and Hawkins, the first colony in Virginia, named for her. It began with the invasion of the Spanish Armada and England's miraculous survival ; it ended with the melancholy of old age and the increasing cynicism of a Court that had grown stale. Yet Elizabeth contrived some of her greatest speeches in the autumn of her reign and continued to survive, as she had all her life, the continual challenges of those who thought themselves better equipped to rule.

INVASION IN GOD'S NAME

The inescapable consequences of Henry's break with the Church, Elizabeth's accession, Mary's flight to England, and a thousand other ironies were fulfilled in the dispatch of the Invincible Armada of Spain against England in 1588. Lengthy books have been written concerning an ailing Phillip II's obsessive conviction that he was the instrument of God to punish the heretic English and their queen for all the indignities he had suffered in 30 years of coexistence. The amazing saga of the creation of this fleet - largest known in Europe until the Invasion of Normandy in 1944 - and the many tragedies attending it, are better addressed elsewhere. The hostility of Catholic Europe against the usurping, unnatural English queen was turned back, in the end, by a small fleet of Elizabethan seadogs and winds which disrupted and helped destroy the great Armada. In hindsight, it seems a foregone conclusion. At the time, the Armada seemed irresistible, bound to annihilate its enemies. In her famous speech at Tilbury to rally her people before what was seen as a David-and-Goliath battle against the greatest power in Europe, Elizabeth finally, explicitly, said what she had shown for years: that she had the political guts of any king, even if she could not lead her own armies. The ecstatic destruction of the threat led to national rejoicing for an explicitly English, Protestant victory. It appeared the crowning glory to Elizabeth's long reign.

That, again, is in hindsight. At the time, there were many small and large clouds on England's horizon. And Elizabeth, not as young as she was, was also beginning to lose those remarkable ministers and friends who had been with her since the early days. Cecil, for 30 years and more her Secretary of State, was a slave to gout which had half crippled him, and would die in 1598. His son, Robert Cecil, continued to serve the Queen, but was a coldly ambitious younger man. Sir Francis Walsingham died in 1590, Sir Christopher Hatton - who had never married while serving the Queen - in 1592. Sir Walter Ralegh was middle-aged and had outraged her by secretly marrying a lady-in-waiting. Worst of all, after the Armada celebrations, Robert Dudley, portly and in ill health, died en route to a spa, taking the medicine she had procured him like any good wife. Elizabeth disappeared behind her locked door until Cecil beat it open. She kept Dudley's last letter in her jewel case where it was discovered upon her death.

A new generation which had never known life without Elizabeth was itching to take the reins and increasingly cynical about life at the most brilliant Court in English history, or in dancing attention upon an aging woman.

ESSEX AND THE YOUNGER GENERATION

After Leicester's death, Elizabeth increasingly spent time with his stepson-by-marriage, Robert Devereaux, the Earl of Essex. Leicester had stayed "faithful" to his royal mistress for nearly 20 years but eventually, desperate for an heir, had secretly married Lettice Knollys, widow of the Earl of Essex, in the spring of 1578. Storms blew hard when Elizabeth eventually found out but, in time, she forgave Dudley and advanced Lettice's son, Robert. Essex was, rather like Leicester had been, handsome, educated, witty, and athletic. He was also badly spoiled and emotionally unstable. Elizabeth's favoritism for Essex has, in modern times, been regarded askance. Ever since Lytton Strachey's Elizabeth and Essex: A Tragic History, Freudian interpretations of this mother-son relationship with sexual overtones have been irresistible to some of Elizabeth's biographers. It is far more persuasive, as Alison Plowden asserts, to view Elizabeth's calculated cultivation of Essex as a preemptive strike to retain the loyalties of the younger generation for whom he was the acknowledged leader, as well as affection for his stepfather and his own youthful charm. Elizabeth was in her '60's, Essex in his '20's. She never placed herself in a position where she could be ridiculous.

From the 1580's, when Elizabeth unwillingly became the arsenal for Protestants around Europe in political self-defense against Spain and France, the wars in the Netherlands had not gone well, particularly after the assassination of the competent Prince of Orange. In addition, there had been repeated rebellion in Ireland. In both, a succession of masculine generals were given clear instructions by their Queen, sent out to do battle, and immediately ignored her orders and did as they pleased, with mixed results. The constant drains of the wars, the payments to allies against the Catholic league, were beginning to erode the fiscal stability of which Elizabeth was so proud. Having for the first twenty years of her reign always lived within her expenses, the costs of war now meant constant concern and irritation and an increasing debt.

Perhaps most importantly, like all who age, the Queen was no longer the trendsetter in her own Court. Essex kept her in touch with the undercurrents of his generation, and she must have hoped to utilize him as she had used his stepfather, to bolster her throne in her final years. If so, she was to be disappointed.

MY LORD OF ESSEX

It is painful to read how the Queen tolerated Essex's increasingly childish behavior. One can sense the contempt of a strong young man for a stubborn, aging woman in the Earl's constant complaints that Elizabeth treated him like a youth or gave him no scope for his military talents. More importantly, Essex developed a passionate hatred of Robert Cecil, who now worked with Elizabeth in his father's old position. As Cecil was given more political power, Essex increasingly demanded military commands in competition without showing either military talent or self-control. He left his post at court against Elizabeth's express orders to ride with Drake's expedition to La Rochelle. When forcibly rebuked, he sulked and raged. Phillip II raised another Armada in 1593, but it was again destroyed by storms; Essex led troops to Cadiz to destroy the remainder. The campaign was prestigious but a costly failure, largely due to Essex's command. At a council meeting in 1598, with Ireland in new revolt, the Earl flew into a passion when the Queen refused him command of her troops. Amazingly, he shouted at her and laid his hand upon his sword as if to strike the Queen. When his appalled friends wrote, suggested he apologize to the Queen, he stormed back

Inevitably, Essex's resentment of the Queen's control of her own policy led to disaster in Ireland. Leading the expedition, Essex proved himself one of the worst commanders in recent history, full of chivalric braggadocio while his men starved and grew ill waiting for battle. Essex delayed, complained, and generally did nothing. Elizabeth's letters grew increasingly terse, ordering him to attack the rebel forces under Tyrone. Ignoring the Queen's express orders, Essex met with Tyrone privately and reached an agreement for a truce, in which Essex, against orders, guaranteed the Queen would pardon the Irish rebel. For this debacle, Elizabeth had paid the staggering sum of over a quarter of a million pounds, with the crown already badly in debt. Elizabeth was incandescent with anger.

'I AM RICHARD II'

Essex immediately, and against orders, took ship for England to explain himself to the Queen. Arriving at Nonsuch Palace on September 28, 1600, he is said to have burst through the Queen's guards and entered her inner chamber in early morning, finding the queen in her nightdress, without wig or makeup. Appearing calm, Elizabeth spoke soothingly to the overwrought Essex, but immediately thereafter dismissed him from all his offices and put him under guard at York House. Essex, who was apparently working himself up to a nervous breakdown, fell ill; Elizabeth sent her doctors. Ignoring her orders, he sent endless streams of messages and letters, begging for attention, until Elizabeth raged "By God's son, I am no Queen, that man is above me."

Essex had long been a superstar among the people of London, and had acquired a strong following among young courtiers who admired his rebellious panache. Now, in early 1601, his protégés openly criticized and jeered at the Queen's actions. To show the justice of her treatment, Elizabeth had Essex tried before a special commission, which neither condemned nor vindicated him for his actions in Ireland. However, his offices were not returned and, given his wildly extravagant lifestyle, his finances became precarious. In late 1601, the Queen refused to renew his valuable monopoly on the import of sweet wines. Desperate, Essex planned a coup d'etat in which James VI would be declared heir to the throne, and in which Robert Cecil and Essex's other enemies would be removed from Elizabeth's council, replaced by Essex and his allies. Perhaps, by this time, Essex was genuinely unbalanced. He plotted to raise London against the Queen and storm the Court itself. With the help of friends including the Earl of Southampton, armed men were secretly brought to Essex's London house to await the word to rise.

At this tense moment, art touched politics. A popular play about the deposition of King Richard II had earlier been played by Shakespeare's theatrical company, The Admiral's Men, already many times patronized by the Queen. In the play, a worthless king is deposed in favor of a stronger monarch. The company was paid to perform the old play before a select audience of conspirators the night before Essex planned his coup. On Saturday, February 7, 1601, he and his 200 followers raced through London, calling on the people to rise and taking hostages. The people did not rise, but watched silently as the increasingly desperate conspirators finally turned back to Essex House. Essex was arrested that night. He was promptly tried for treason before the Star Chamber, found guilty, and privately executed on February 25, together with co-conspirator Sir Christopher Blount. Southampton was pardoned.

The queen had survived the only non-religious uprising of her reign. But her melancholy increased. Later that year, aware of the play put on by her dead favorite, she snapped "I am Richard II, know ye not that?"

Photographic recreation of Elizabeth
by David Sugimoto at The Guggenheim Collection

I HAVE REIGNED WITH YOUR LOVES

The English economy was feeling the strain of 15 years of foreign war. In November, 1601, Elizabeth met a delegation from Parliament who represented members opposed to the old monarchic practice of rewarding good service with profitable monopolies. She was 68 years old and in excellent health, planning to harangue the members for their presumption. Instead, she launched into what came to be known as her "Golden Speech." Pondering her reign of over forty years, and her constant need to defend her realm against Spain, the Queen provided an eloquent justification for her actions. In her conclusion, she said

"I have ever used to set the Last Judgment Day before mine eyes and so to rule as I shall be judged to answer before a higher judge...I know the title of a King is a glorious title, but assure yourself that the shining glory of princely authority hath not so dazzled the eyes of our understanding, but that we will know and remember that we are to yield an account of our actions before the great judge. To be a king and wear a crown is a thing more glorious to them that see it than it is pleasant to them that bear it...There will never Queen sit in my seat with more zeal to my country, care to my subjects, and that will sooner with willingness venture her life for your good and safety than myself. For it is my desire to live nor reign no longer than my life and reign shall be for your good. and though you have had, and may have, many princes more mighty and wise sitting in this seat, yet you never had nor shall have, any that will be more careful and loving."

The members, moved to tears, left without a word.

CREEPING TIME

The Queen's health remained good until the fall of 1602, when a series of losses among her remaining friends appeared to throw her into a melancholy. In her depression, she was lethargic and silent, quite unlike her usual brisk manner. Her courtiers anxiously tried to cheer her, but as she admonished her stepson, John Harrington, "When thou dost feel creeping time at thy gate, these fooleries will please thee less." She withdrew to Richmond Palace and to her bedchamber, lying on cushions on the floor and taking no nourishment. To Robert Cecil, insisting she go to bed, she flared "Little man, little man, the word 'must' is not to be used to Princes."

Then she fell silent. Her behavior became eccentric. She stood upright, without relief, for two days, silent, with her finger held in her mouth like a tired child. It was as if she knew that, lying down, she would not rise again.

On March 21, 1603, the Lord Admiral finally persuaded the Queen to go to bed. They had to saw the Coronation Ring off her finger where it had grown into the flesh. She could no longer speak. Robert Cecil later alleged that she wordlessly signed to him that James VI of Scotland - son of Mary of Scotland - would be her heir. On March 24, with the Archbishop of Canterbury on his knees by her bed, praying with her women for her soul, she died, between 2 and 3 AM. A witness later said it was like watching the falling of "a ripe apple from the tree."

Elizabeth had ruled England for more than 44 years. A horseman was already traveling north to Scotland, and James VI, carrying her ring.

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Contemporary Effigy of Elizabeth I, Westminster Abbey

NEXT: SEMPER EADEM

Sources:

Hand-colored engraving of Queen Elizabeth before Parliament from Robert Glober's "Nobilitas Politica Vel Civilis," 1608. The "Ermine Portrait" of the Queen by Nicholas Hilliard, 1585.