The Spaniards in Kinsale yielded the place on this defeat of their allies, on condition of being allowed to return home with their arms and ammunition. Tyrone was then pursued by Mountjoy with great vigour, and after a number of defeats retired still more northward. Munster was reduced, and Tyrone offered to submit on favourable terms; but Mountjoy could obtain no such terms from the queen; she insisted on unconditional surrender. Her ministers strongly advised her to concede and settle the state of Ireland, which was now costing her £300,000 a year to defend it against the natives. Sometimes she appeared disposed to comply, and then again was as obstinate as ever; and matters remained in this position till 1603, when Mountjoy, hearing that the queen was not likely to live long, agreed to receive Tyrone's submission, to grant him and his followers a full pardon, and restore the whole of his territories, with some few exceptions. Tyrone then accompanied Mountjoy to Dublin, where they heard of the death of Elizabeth; and Tyrone burst into tears and regretted his too hasty surrender. The deed, however, was done, and tranquillity ensured to Ireland for a short time.
The last warlike demonstration of the reign of Elizabeth was an expedition to the coast of Spain to prevent the passage of fresh fleets to Ireland. Admirals Levison and Monson proceeded thither with a fleet; but, tempted by a carrack of immense value in the harbour of Sesimbria, they seized it and returned home. This desertion of their duty to satisfy their greed of prize-money, would, in Elizabeth's days of vigour, have cost the commanders dearly. While they were guarding their treasure homewards the Spanish fleet might have made sail. Therefore no time was lost in sending back the fleet under Monson, who found six Spanish galleys out, and stealing along the French coast. Before he could pursue them they were met by a squadron of Dutch and English ships, and after some hard fighting three of them were sunk, and three escaped into Sluys.
The reign of Queen Elizabeth was now drawing to a close. She was approaching her seventieth year, and till lately had still listened to the voice of flattery as if she were yet in the glory of her youth. But nature had begun to give her stern warnings, and the failing of her strength brought deep melancholy. At one time she affected an unnatural gaiety; at another she withdrew into solitude, and was often found in tears. One of her household says in a letter—"She sleepeth not so much by day as she used, neither taketh rest by night. Her delight is to sit in the dark, and sometimes with shedding tears to bewail Essex."
Yet she still strove against the advancing infirmities of age. She would insist to the last on making her annual progress and on hunting. Only five months before her death Lord Henry Howard wrote to the Earl of Mar—"The queen our sovereign was never so gallant many years, nor so set upon jollity." A letter of April 7th, 1602, says—"The queen walks often on Richmond Green with greater show of ability than can well stand with her years. Mr. Secretary sways all of importance, albeit of late much absent from the Court and about London, but not omitting in his absence daily to present Her Majesty with some jewel or toy that may be acceptable. The other of the Council or nobility estrange themselves from Court by all occasions, so as, besides the master of the horse, vice-chamberlain, and comptroller, few of account appear there."
When Cecil was present it required all his art to conceal his correspondence with the King of Scotland. One day a packet was delivered to him from James in the queen's presence. She ordered him instantly to open it, and show its contents to her. It was a critical moment, and none but a long-practised diplomatist could have escaped the exposure which it would probably occasion; but recollecting her excessive dislike of bad smells and terror of contagion, he observed as he was cutting the string that "it had a strange and evil smell," and hinted that it might have been in contact with infected persons or goods. Elizabeth immediately ordered the cunning Minister to take it away and have it purified, and no doubt he did purify it of any dangerous contents before displaying them to Her Majesty.
Meanwhile, not only Cecil and Howard, but another clique, was busy paying court to James. These were Raleigh, Cobham, and the Earl of Northumberland. They met at Durham House, and kept up a warm correspondence with James; but they were as zealously counteracted by Cecil and Howard, who warned James of all things not to trust to them, Howard declaring that as for Raleigh and Cobham, "hell did never spew up such a couple when it cast up Cerberus and Phlegethon."
ELIZABETH'S PROMENADE ON RICHMOND GREEN. (See p. [339.])
While these self-seeking courtiers were thus anxiously labouring to stand first with the heir, Elizabeth was sinking fast into a most pitiable condition. She was weighed down by a complication of complaints, and her mind was affrighted by strange spectres. When the Lord Admiral urged her to go to bed, she said, "No, no; there were spirits there that troubled her;" and added that, "if he were in the habit of seeing such things in his bed as she did in hers, he would not try to persuade her to go there." Cecil hearing this, asked if Her Majesty had seen any spirits. At this she cast one of her old lightning flashes at him, and said, "I shall not answer you such a question." Cecil then said she must go to bed to content the people. "Must," she said, smiling scornfully; "must is a word not to be used to princes;" adding, "Little man! little man! if your father had lived you durst not have said so much, but you know I must die, and that makes you so presumptuous." She now saw Cecil's real character, and ordering him and all the rest except the Lord Admiral out of her chamber, she said, "My lord, I am tied with a chain of iron round my neck." He endeavoured to dissipate the idea, but she only said, "I am tied! I am tied! and the case is altered with me."