Time and experience did not soften the arrogance of Essex. On his return he set himself more than ever to the task of becoming supreme in the kingdom. Always there has been a certain rivalry between the statesman who manages affairs at home, and the successful soldier. Each is inclined to underrate the value of the other's service. Essex naturally thought the highest place in the government should be occupied by a dashing soldier like himself. He had whatever prestige popularity gives, and he had influence with the Queen, but not so much as he thought. Robert Cecil knew his man, and quietly determined his downfall. Through his mediation Lord Howard of Effingham was raised to the earldom of Nottingham, which, combined with his position of Lord High Admiral, gave him precedence of Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex. This Essex, in his arrogance, could not tolerate. He absented himself from Court, and all Howard's efforts to pacify his anger were futile. But the Queen began to weary at his absence. She asked Ralegh to try and make Howard waive his right of precedence, but this Howard refused to do. Accordingly, again at Ralegh's suggestion, who valued the Queen's happiness more highly than his personal likes and dislikes, Essex was created Earl Marshal of England, and Howard retired in his turn from Court.
On the return of Essex, Cecil began to play a game at which he was an adept. He wanted Essex to feel that his importance was properly recognized without admitting him into any State matters. So he arranged long conferences with Essex, and with Ralegh, about projects which he never had the least intention of bringing to any issue; and these conferences about nothing were carefully attended by all the pomp of formality. Essex would thereby be flattered, would grow in pride to his own undoing, and would be likely to reveal the trend of his own scheme. Essex, in spite of his almost childish arrogance, was a man to be reckoned with. He had many friends of importance, the most distinguished of whom was Francis Bacon. By means of his own spies he kept in touch with foreign affairs that he might criticize the Queen's advisers; he became friendly with King James of Scotland; he could rely on the help of every one who was disappointed of office or reward by Burghley or his son.
But he was no match for the astute Sir Robert Cecil. And the very year of Burghley's death, at one of the heated Council meetings, Essex had weakened by his uncontrolled conduct his influence with the Queen. The Queen had interfered on Burghley's behalf against Essex; and Essex in a rage "turned his back on the Queen with a gesture of contempt, muttering an unpardonable insult," as Mr. Sidney Lee has it.
He was not a safe person to leave idle. The office of Lord Deputy of Ireland was vacant; it was offered him, and after some dissent on his part was accepted. His ruin was now imminent. He felt his power grow less; and on Ralegh in particular he looked with hatred as upon the chief cause of his downfall. And small wonder if Ralegh hated the man who had offered gross insult to the old Queen in public. "Why do I talk of victory or success?" writes Essex from Ireland to the Queen. "Is it not known that from England I receive nothing but discomforts and soul's wounds.... Is it not lamented both there and here that a Cobham and Ralegh ... should have such credit and favour with your Majesty...." But without Ralegh, who, as his subordinate, had won him fame at Cadiz and at Fayal, and warded off disaster, the enterprise of Essex in Ireland was a failure. He wasted time and money, and achieved nothing. Then Essex resolved upon an impetuous step characteristic of him. He determined to return home, and to drive away by force the men who were keeping him from his proper place of supremacy; he even enlisted the support of James of Scotland, who was favourable to his scheme, but temporized, saying that he would send messengers to the Queen to beg her to restore Essex to her favour. What Essex needed for his mad project, however, was an army, not messages. Essex returned from Ireland, but Cecil was perfectly ready for him, and the people of London did not rise at his protest against the Queen's ministers; they gaped and wondered, as they would gape and wonder at a madman. Essex was arrested, was impeached for high treason, and beheaded.
The impetuousness of Essex approached very near to madness, and a dangerous form of madness. If any one has ever deserved death for treason, Essex deserved it. Ralegh wrote his opinion quite frankly to Sir Robert about him. The letter has raised much feeling against Ralegh. But he had good reason to know the peril a nature like that of Essex could bring to a nation or to anything with which he was connected, and he was perfectly just and honest in the opinion he gave that Essex's wings should be clipped. The letter runs as follows:—
"Sir,
"I am not wize enough to geve yow advise; but if you take it for a good councell to relent towards this tirant, yow will repent it when it shalbe too late. His mallice is fixt, and will not evaporate by any your mild courses. For he will ascribe the alteration to her Majesties pusillanimitye and not to your good nature; knowing that yow worke but uppon her humor and not out of any love towards hyme. The less yow make hyme, the less he shalbe able to harme yow and your's. And if her Majesties favor faile hyme, hee will agayne decline to a common parson. For after-revenges, feare them not; for your own father that was estemed to be the contriver of Norfolk's ruin, yet his son followeth your father's son and loveth him. Humours of men succeed not; butt grow by occasions and accidents of tyme and poure.... I could name you a thowsand of thos; and therefore after fears are but profesies—or rather conjectures—from causes remote. Looke to the present, and yow do wisely. His sonne shalbe the youngest Earle of Ingland butt on, and, if his father be now keipt down Will Cecill shalbe abell to keip as many men att his heeles as hee, and more too. Hee may also mache in a better howse then his; and so that feare is not worth the fearinge. Butt if the father continew, he wilbe able to break the branches and pull up the tree; root and all. Lose not your advantage; if you do, I rede your destiney.
"Let the Q. hold Bothwell while she hath hyme. Hee will ever be the canker of her estate and sauftye. Princes are lost by securetye; and preserved by prevention. I have seen the last of her good dayes, and all ours, after his libertye."
It is strange and it is memorable how the sentiment of the last sentence but one, "Princes are lost by securetye," ran through the minds of men at this time: again and again it occurs. The witches in Macbeth chant—
"Security
Is mortals' chiefest enemy."
Spenser writes—
"Little wist he his fatall future woe
But was secure: the liker he to fall."