In 1591 he commanded troops sent to the assistance of Henry IV. of France, and on his return was made a Privy Councillor; but jealousy was rife, plots were hatching against him, and the train was laid which was to be fired some years later.
He was appointed to the joint command of the fleet in the expedition against Spain, with Admiral Howard, and on their return, the marked difference between the manner in which the Ministers received Essex and his coadjutor was most distasteful to the former. Howard was treated with honour and consideration, while Essex was exposed to blame and mortification. He now retired to the country in disgust, and would not even attend Parliament till the question arose of a proposed treaty with Spain, when he hastened up to London to be present at a Council, and to advocate war, which he did in such vehement and passionate terms that his quondam guardian, Lord Burghley, rose from the table, and drawing a prayer-book from his pocket, pointed to a passage in the Psalms which proved too prophetic—
‘The bloodthirsty and deceitful man shall not live out half his days.’
Burghley, who died soon after, was indeed a tried and trusty friend, ever ready to defend him against all his enemies, even the worst of all, Essex’s own self. Peace was concluded, however, and Robert Devereux added to his general unpopularity, while he angered the Queen, by rushing into print on the occasion, and that in most unmeasured terms. Not long afterwards, occurred the well-known scene at the Council, where was a hot discussion relative to the choice of a Governor for Ireland, and Lord Essex’s language was so intemperate that Elizabeth in a rage rose from her seat and struck him on the cheek. Stung to the quick, he half drew his sword, and swearing he would not endure such treatment, left the royal presence in a fury, and once more hurried off to his country house, whence it required much persuasion to induce him to return to his allegiance. The ill-fated man did not realise (after he had made a species of proud apology) how far he was playing into his enemies’ hand, by accepting the command now given him, to put down a rebellious outbreak in Ireland. The complete failure of this expedition is well known. Essex incurred the unmitigated censure of the Government, and of the Queen herself.
His mind was at this time in a very wretched and unsettled state, and on the receipt of a letter from Elizabeth full of reproaches, he left Ireland, and drew no breath till he stood suddenly in her presence at Nonsuch Place, coming, he said, to throw himself on her mercy, and implore her to listen to his vindication. After a conference of some duration, she dismissed him with the desire that he should remain in the custody of the Lord Keeper. In this species of honourable imprisonment he continued for some time in suspense, probably relying on Her Majesty’s constancy to pardon him. But there were those who whispered distrust and slander in the royal ear.
Alas for the proud spirit of Robert Devereux! he was examined for eleven hours before the Privy Council, during most of the time compelled ‘to remain on his knees.’
When released, he once more retired to the country, and then came up to London, where he made his house the centre of the disaffected; and although still professing unshaken loyalty, yet his actions and the companions he drew around him were well calculated to excite the suspicions both of the Queen and of her Ministers. Again summoned before the Council, he refused to appear; and when the Lord Keeper and the Lord Chancellor went to his house to expostulate, he detained them prisoners. A climax to his rashness was the step he took in sallying forth into the city to enlist volunteers, at the head of a large body of armed adherents, and on his return to his house he fortified himself therein. He was proclaimed a traitor, besieged, and taken prisoner on the 8th of February 1601, and on the 19th brought to trial, and condemned to die.
The struggle between anger, tenderness, and compassion in the breast of Elizabeth has been recorded in history, drama, and fiction; and the story of the ring, which will be found in another page, is one of the widest circulated of historical romances. There is little doubt that Elizabeth never recovered the shock of Essex’s death, although her own hand dealt the blow to both.
On the night preceding his execution, the noble prisoner opened his window, and addressing the guards and pages, regretted he had nothing to give them; ‘for I have nothing save what I am going to pay the Queen on the morrow.’ He rose soon after midnight, and prayed with the chaplain, saying, ‘God bless you, as you shall comfort me.’ He dressed himself with care in a black suit, velvet gown, felt hat, and starched ruff. On his road to the scaffold he continued instant in prayer. ‘God grant me true penitence, true patience, true humility, and put all worldly thoughts from my mind.’ No one can deny that Robert Devereux made a noble end.
He spoke earnestly to the crowd, asking them to join in prayer with him, repeated the Lord’s Prayer with great fervour, desired forgiveness of God and of the Queen, ‘whom he had never intended to harm,’ and answered the executioner with gentle courtesy, who kneeling, asked his forgiveness. ‘Thou art but the minister of justice,’ said Essex; then taking off his velvet gown and doublet, he continued to pray till the cruel blow silenced that noble voice for ever. He was deeply mourned by many. ‘My Lady of Essex,’ says a contemporary writer (she had made strenuous efforts to save him), ‘is a most sorrowful creature, she wears black of the meanest price, and will receive no comfort.’