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]
[C] Major Martin Hume gives an account of the scheme itself
with admirable clearness; his quotations from the letters
of the period I use.
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.
[Illustration: KING JAMES I.]