At this period Elizabeth behaved with her characteristic selfishness. She was anxious for Mary's death, and felt no pity for the object of her fury; but she feared to appear before the world as the author of the revenge upon which she was bent, and sought to make parliament share the odium of her deed.
The Kings of France and Scotland interceded for Mary and increased Elizabeth's irresolution; but Leicester and Walsingham, well knowing what their fate would be should Elizabeth chance to die, and thus make way for Mary to the throne of England, kept urging their sovereign to sign the death-warrant. At last she yielded; but no sooner had she done so than she fell into a state of melancholy, and secretly urged one of the castellans of Fotheringay to murder his hapless charge. She was willing to resort to any means of getting Mary out of the way, providing she could preserve her own reputation by putting the blame on others. But she was not to be gratified, and on the 8th of February the execution took place in due form. Not one of the council had the courage to inform the queen that the bloody deed was accomplished. In the evening she asked "what meant the bonfires and the merry ringing of the bells?" The answer stunned her for a moment; then she burst into a passionate fit of weeping, sharply rebuked her council and bade them quit her sight at once, saying that she had never commanded nor intended the execution of Mary Stuart.
This may have been hypocrisy; but more likely it was remorse for a needless, outrageous, barbarous act.
Elizabeth wrote to James VI. of Scotland, professing her innocence of the "miserable accident," as she was pleased to term the murder of his mother, and assuring him of her affection for himself. To the French ambassador she said that the death of her kinswoman was the greatest misfortune of her life, and that although she had signed the death-warrant to gratify her subjects, she had never meant to carry it into effect. She added that her council had played her a trick which would have cost them their heads, did she not believe that they had acted for the welfare of herself and the state. After Mary Stuart's death there seemed to be an end to conspiracies for a while, and no very important event occupied the queen's mind until she began to make preparations to defend herself against the invasion of the grand Spanish army, called the Invincible Armada. She showed herself on this occasion worthy to be the queen and heroine of a nation that were eager to prove their devotion and loyalty.
A.D. 1588. The despised, disgraced Earl of Leicester, who had by this time regained his place in the royal favor, was appointed commander-in-chief of the army at Tilbury. Lord Hunsdon commanded the queen's body-guard for the defence of London, and Sir Francis Drake was appointed vice-admiral.
Elizabeth took up her abode at Havering Bower, a place selected for her by Leicester, situated between the rear and van of her army. There she appeared as warrior and queen. Mounted on a noble charger, with a general's truncheon in her hand, a polished steel corselet over her magnificent apparel, and a page in attendance bearing her white plumed helmet, she rode bareheaded from rank to rank, addressing her soldiers with words of encouragement and hope. She was greeted with loud shouts of applause by her admiring subjects, who felt it an honor to fight for such a noble, courageous sovereign.
The Spaniards had flattered themselves that with an army equipped as their's was it would require only one fight by sea and one on land to achieve the conquest of England; but they soon found their mistake, and not a single Spaniard set foot on English soil except as a prisoner.
The Spanish Armada was soon scattered, and victory was declared for England.
Immense crowds gathered to welcome the queen on her return to Westminster. She was then fifty-five years of age, at the height of her glory, and beloved by her subjects, whom she had ruled for thirty years, and who had united, one and all, Catholic and Protestant, to support her in vindicating the honor of England.
Her first act was to reward her brave commanders and provide for the wounded seamen. Upon Leicester she would have bestowed the highest office ever held by an English subject,—that of lord-lieutenant of England and Ireland; but, much to the satisfaction of the other statesmen, he died before the patent could be made out. A series of thanksgivings were observed in London to commemorate the victory, and the queen was presented with a number of rich and valuable gifts.