Few ladies of that age chose long to continue in the unprotected state of widowhood; and the duchess had already re-entered the matrimonial state with Richard Bertie, a person of obscure birth but liberal education, when the accession of Mary exposed her to all the cruelties and oppressions exercised without remorse by the popish persecutors of that reign upon such of their private enemies as they could accuse of being also the enemies of the catholic church. The duchess, during the former reign, had drawn upon herself the bitter enmity of Gardiner by some imprudent and insulting manifestations of her abhorrence of his character and contempt for his religion; and she now learned with dismay that it was his intention to subject her to a strict interrogatory on the subject of her faith.
Except apostasy, there was no other resource than the hazardous and painful one of voluntary banishment, and this she without hesitation adopted. Bertie first obtained license for quitting the country on some pretended business; and soon after, the duchess, attended only by two or three domestics, escaped by night with her infant daughter from her house in Barbican, and taking boat on the Thames arrived at a port in Kent. Here she embarked; and through many perils,—for stress of weather compelled her to put back into an English port, and the search was every where very strict,—she reached at length a more hospitable shore, and rejoined her husband at Santon in the duchy of Cleves. From this town, however, they were soon chased by the imminent apprehension of molestation from the bishop of Arras. It was on an October evening that, followed only by two maid-servants, on foot, through rain and mire and darkness, Bertie carrying a bundle and the duchess her child, the forlorn wanderers began their march for Wesel one of the Hanse-towns, about four miles distant. On their arrival, their wild and wretched appearance, with the sword which Bertie carried, gave them in the eyes of the inhabitants so suspicious an appearance, that no one would harbour them; and while her husband ran from inn to inn vainly imploring admittance, the afflicted duchess was compelled to betake herself to the shelter of a church porch; and there, in that misery and desolation and want of every thing, was delivered of a child, to whom, in memory of the circumstance, she gave the name of Peregrine. Bertie meantime, addressing himself in Latin to two young scholars whom he overheard speaking together in that language, obtained a direction to a Walloon minister, to whom the duchess had formerly shown kindness in England. By his means such prompt and affectionate succour was administered as served to restore her to health; and here for some time they found rest for the sole of their foot. A fresh alarm then obliged them to remove into the dominions of the Palsgrave, where they had remained till the supplies which they had brought with them in money and jewels were nearly exhausted; when a friend of the duchess's having interested the king of Poland in their behalf, they fortunately received an invitation from this sovereign. Arriving in his country, after great hardships and imminent danger of their lives from the brutality of some soldiers on their way, a large demesne was assigned them by their princely protector, on which they lived in great honor and tranquillity till the happy accession of Elizabeth recalled them to their native land.
Peregrine lord Willoughby found many occasions of distinguishing himself in the wars of Flanders, where he rose to the rank of lieutenant-general. He was not less magnanimous than brave; and disdaining the servility of a court life, is thought to have enjoyed on this account less of the queen's favor than her admiration of military merit would otherwise have prompted her to bestow upon him. He died governor of Berwick in 1601; his son was afterwards created earl of Lindsey, and the title of duke of Ancaster is now borne by his descendants.
The king of Sweden, conducted to the brink of ruin by an unequal contest with the arms of Russia, sent in 1583 a solemn embassy to the queen of England to entreat her to mediate a peace for him. This good work, in which she cheerfully engaged, was speedily brought to a happy issue; and the Czar seized the opportunity of the negotiations to press for the conclusion of that league offensive and defensive with England, which he had formerly proposed in vain. The objection that such an alliance was inconsistent with the laws of nations, since it might engage the queen to commit hostilities on princes against whom she had never declared war, made, as might be expected, little impression on this barbarian; and Elizabeth had considerable difficulty in escaping from the intimate embrace of his proffered friendship, to the cool civilities of a commercial treaty. Another perplexing circumstance occurred. The Czar had set his heart upon an English wife; some say he ventured to address the queen herself; but however this might be, she was about to gratify his wish by sending him for a bride a lady of royal blood, sister of the earl of Huntingdon, when the information which she received of the unlimited privilege of divorce exercised by his Muscovite majesty, deterred her from completing her project. She was in consequence obliged to excuse the failure on the ground of the delicate health of the young lady, the reluctance of her brother to part with her, and, what must have filled the despot with astonishment, her own inability to dispose of her female subjects in marriage against the consent of their own relations.
About this time died the earl of Sussex. In him the queen was deprived of a faithful and honorable counsellor and an affectionate kinsman; Leicester lost the antagonist whom he most dreaded, and the nobility one of its principal ornaments. Dying childless, his next brother succeeded him, in whom the race ended; for Egremond Ratcliffe, his youngest brother, had already completed his disastrous destiny. This unfortunate gentleman, it will be remembered, was rendered a fugitive and an outlaw by the part which he had taken, at a very early age, in the Northern rebellion. For several years he led a forlorn and rambling life, sometimes in Flanders, sometimes in Spain, deriving his sole support from an ill paid pension and occasional donations of Philip II., and often enduring extremities of poverty and hardship.
Wearied with so many sufferings in a desperate cause, he then employed all his endeavours to make his peace at home; and impatient at length of the suspense which he endured, he took the step of returning to England at all hazards and throwing himself on the compassion of lord Burleigh. The treasurer, touched with his misery and his expressions of penitence, interceded with the queen for his pardon; but she, on some fresh occasion of suspicion, caused him to be advised to steal out of the kingdom again; and neglecting this intimation, he was committed to the Tower. After some months he was released, possibly under a promise of attempting some extraordinary piece of service to his country, and was sent back to Flanders, where he was soon after apprehended on a charge of conspiring against the life of don John of Austria: some say, and some deny, that he confessed his guilt, and accused the English ministry of a participation in the design: however this might be, he perished by the hand of public justice, a lamentable victim to the guilty violence of the popish faction which first beguiled his inexperience; to the relentless policy of Elizabeth, which forbade the return of offenders perhaps not incorrigible; and to the desperation which gaining dominion over his mind had subverted all its moral principles.
Ireland had been as usual the scene of much danger and disturbance. In 1582 an attempt was made by the king of Spain to incite the catholic inhabitants to a general rebellion, by throwing on the coast a small body of troops seconded by a very considerable sum of money, and attended by a number of priests prepared to preach up his title to the sovereignty of the island in virtue of the papal donation. But the vigorous measures of Arthur lord Grey the deputy, by holding the Irish in check, rendered this effort abortive. The Spaniards, unable to penetrate into the country, raised a fort near the place of their landing, which they hoped to be able to hold out till the arrival of reinforcements. They obstinately refused the terms of surrender first offered them by the deputy; and the fort being afterwards taken by assault, the whole garrison, with the exception of the officers, was put to the sword: an act of cruelty which the deputy is said to have commanded with tears, in obedience to the decision of a court-martial from which he could not venture to depart; and which Elizabeth publicly reprobated, perhaps without internally condemning.
The earl of Desmond, who on the arrival of the Spanish troops had risen in arms against the government with all the power he could muster, was excepted from the general pardon granted to other Irish insurgents, and thus remaining by necessity in a state of rebellion, gave for some time considerable disquiet, if not alarm, to the English government. But his resources of every kind gradually falling off, he was hunted about through bogs and forests, from one fastness or lurking-place to another, enduring every kind of privation and hardship, and often foiling his pursuers by hair-breadth scapes. It is even related that he and his countess on one occasion being roused from their bed in the middle of the night, found no other mode of concealment than that of wading up to their necks in the river which bathed the walls of their retreat. At length, a small party of soldiers having entered by surprise a solitary cabin, they there found one old man sitting alone, to whom their brutal leader gave a blow with his sword, which nearly cut off his arm, and another on the side of his head; on which he cried out, "I am the earl of Desmond." The name was no protection; for perceiving that he bled fast and was unable to march, the ruthless soldier, bidding him prepare for instant death, struck off his head and brought it away as a trophy; leaving the mangled trunk to the chance of interment by any faithful follower of the house of Fitzgerald who might venture from his hiding-place to explore the fate of his chief. The head was sent to England as a present to the queen, and placed by her command on London Bridge.
From this time, the beginning of 1583, Ireland enjoyed a short respite from scenes of violence and blood under the vigorous yet humane administration of sir John Perrot, the new deputy.
The petty warfare of this turbulent province, amid the many and great evils of various kinds which it brought forth, was productive however of some contingent advantage to the queen's affairs, by serving as a school of military discipline to many an officer of merit whose abilities she afterwards found occasion to employ in more important enterprises to check the power of Spain. Ireland was, in particular, the scene of several of the early exploits of that brilliant and extraordinary genius Walter Raleigh; and it was out of his service in this country that an occasion arose for his appearing before her majesty, which he had the talent and dexterity so to improve as to make it the origin of all his favor and advancement. Raleigh was the poor younger brother of a decayed but ancient family in Devonshire. His education at Oxford was yet incomplete, when the ardor of his disposition impelled him to join a gallant band of one hundred volunteers led by his relation Henry Champernon, in 1569, to the aid of the French protestants. Here he served a six-years apprenticeship to the art of war, after which, returning to his own country, he gave himself for a while to the more tranquil pursuits of literature; for "both Minervas" claimed him as their own. In 1578 he resumed his arms under general Norris, commander of the English forces in the Netherlands; the next year, ambitious of a new kind of glory, he accompanied that gallant navigator sir Humphrey Gilbert, his half brother, in a voyage to Newfoundland. This expedition proving unfortunate, he obtained in 1580 a captain's commission in the Irish service; and recommended by his vigor and capacity, rose to be governor of Cork. He was the officer appointed to carry into effect the bloody sentence passed upon the Spanish garrison; a cruel service, but one which the military duty of obedience rendered matter of indispensable obligation. A quarrel with lord Grey put a stop to his promotion in Ireland; and on his following this nobleman to England, their difference was brought to a hearing before the privy-council, when the great talents and uncommon flow of eloquence exhibited by Raleigh in pleading his own cause, by raising the admiration of all present, proved the means of introducing him to the presence of the queen. His comely person, fine address, and prompt proficiency in the arts of a courtier, did all the rest; and he rapidly rose to such a height of royal favor as to inspire with jealousy even him who had long stood foremost in the good graces of his sovereign.