Traitors of the Tower (6 page)

By 1593, Essex had shown himself useful in setting up a spy service for the Queen, and at last, in reward, she gave him a seat on the council. ‘He is a new man,’ it was said, ‘and has given up his former tricks.’ But by 1596, Essex was bored with state duties and seeking action. Again, Elizabeth sent English ships to destroy Spain’s new fleet. Essex carried out a daring raid on the port of Cadiz, causing dreadful damage. When a thrilled Elizabeth heard of it, she wrote to Essex, ‘You have made me famous.’

It was Essex whose fame was sung far and wide. He had proved himself a hero, and was the man of the moment. When he got home, he was given a joyous welcome. No one was more loved by the people.

Elizabeth was jealous. When Essex came to her, she did not hail him as a victor, but asked what profit and gain he had brought from Cadiz. He had to admit there was none, and she snapped at him.

In truth, she feared he was a danger to her, being so loved by the people, and time would prove her right. She was now growing tired of him, and he of her. During one of their rows, he turned his back on her, she boxed his ears, and he even drew his sword and made to attack her. Anyone else would have been sent to the Tower, but Elizabeth did nothing. She feared how Essex might react.

In 1599, Essex was sent to Ireland to deal with the rebel Earl of Tyrone. His mission was a failure. He did not obey the Queen’s orders to take to the field, and instead made a shameful peace with Tyrone. Elizabeth had told him to stay where he was, but he deserted his army, and hurried home on horseback to explain himself to her.

When he arrived at Nonsuch Palace, he burst into the Queen’s rooms. Elizabeth was without her wig and make-up, and not yet dressed. Essex saw before him an ugly old woman. Elizabeth could not forgive that either. Essex was put under arrest, but no one thought the Queen would keep him locked up for long.

But Elizabeth had now heard how Essex had dined with the rebel Tyrone after making peace. That was the ruin of Essex. Kept under house arrest for a time, he fell ill. When he felt better, he began forming a party of young lords who felt they should have high office at court, and that England should fight Spain again. They began plotting against the council. In February 1601, they had the play Richard II staged in London. In this play, a king is toppled from his throne. That was a step too far.

The council knew what was going on, and feared what Essex might do. They put him under guard in his London house, but Essex got out and met up with his friends. With two hundred men, they tried to raise support for a revolt in London, but failed. Essex was again arrested, and taken to the Tower on the Queen’s orders. Elizabeth would not go to bed until her orders had been carried out. She now saw Essex for what he was, but for all her courage during the revolt, she was ‘much wasted’, would not change her clothes, and kept a sword by her for fear of attack.

On 19 February 1601, Essex and the other young men were tried in Westminster Hall. They were charged with plotting against the Queen’s crown and life, and with other crimes. Essex stood there smiling, but not for long. He pleaded not guilty, and said he had wanted to force the Queen to get rid of Robert Cecil.

‘Will any man be so simple to take this as less than treason?’ asked Sir Francis Bacon, acting for the Crown. No man was. Essex was condemned to a traitor’s death. He seemed unmoved, and said he would not fawn and beg for himself, but that he had meant no harm to the Queen.

Many thought that if Essex pleaded for mercy, Elizabeth would spare him, but his pride would not allow it. The Dean of Norwich was sent by the council to get him to admit his guilt, but to no effect. On the day after Essex’s trial, Elizabeth signed his death warrant in a firm hand.

On 21 February, Essex’s chaplain saw him in the Tower and painted a fearful picture of the hell that was waiting for him if he did not own up to his sins. Now Essex did break down, and said he would confess in full all his crimes. The council went to see him, and he told them he was the most vile traitor that England had ever known. He admitted that the Queen would never be safe while he lived. He went over all his misdeeds in detail.

Essex’s wife begged Cecil to ask the Queen to spare her husband’s life, but Elizabeth would not, as ‘he himself had shown he was not worthy of it’. She did grant that he could die in private, not on the public scaffold.

On 23 February, the death warrant was brought to the Tower. After it came a message from the Queen, saying Essex was not to suffer until the next day. That night, she sent two hangmen to carry out the sentence. ‘If one faint, the other may perform it for him.’ Then she shut herself in her rooms and stayed there until it was all over.

In the early hours of 25 February 1601, a small group of people arrived at the Tower to watch Essex die. They sat on seats around the scaffold, which was in front of the House of Ordnance, as Anne Boleyn’s scaffold had been. Aided by three churchmen, Essex was brought out at eight o’clock. He wore a black velvet gown and breeches and a black felt hat. He climbed the steps, took off his hat and bowed to those watching. Then he made his speech.

‘My sins are more in number than the hairs on my head,’ he said. ‘I have been puffed up with pride.’ He asked Christ to pardon him, and spoke of ‘my last sin, this great, this bloody, this crying sin’, which had brought him and his friends to ruin. ‘I beseech God to forgive us, and to forgive it me, most wretched of all.’ He ended by praying God to save the Queen, ‘whose death I never meant’.

Now he took off his gown and ruff, and knelt by the block, saying aloud the Lord’s Prayer and the Creed. The headsman knelt and asked Essex’s pardon, which he gave. Essex rose, then bowed to the block and laid himself down over it. He said he would be ready when he held out his arms.

‘Lord, into Thy hands I commend my spirit!’ he cried, twisting his head to the side. Then he cried, ‘Strike home!’ and flung out his arms, still praying. It took three chops to cut off his head, but he seems to have been killed by the first, as his body did not move after it. The headsman swung the head up by the hair and shouted, ‘God save the Queen!’

Essex’s death was mourned by many of the common people, who made up songs about him, such as ‘Sweet England’s Pride is Gone’. But Elizabeth never showed any regret for sending Essex to the block, for she felt she had been just in doing so, and that her realm was safer without him. Yet she would always think of him with sadness. Until her own death in March 1603, she would wear a ring he had given her.

Three hundred years later, the writer and statesman, Lord Macaulay, would visit the chapel of St Peter in the Tower of London and gaze upon the altar pavement. Beneath it had been buried the bodies of six of those ‘traitors’ who had lost their heads in the Tower. Macaulay was much moved, and wrote, ‘There is no sadder spot on Earth.’