Before he was twenty he fought gallantly with the English army in Holland, and was foremost in the battle of Zütphen, where Sir Philip Sidney fell. On his return to court the Queen's fancy deepened into dotage, and, fond and foolish, she would hardly let him quit her presence. This became so irksome that he ran off to the war in Spain, and refused to return when she sent an officer after him. When he was pleased to come back she forgave all, and redoubled her favors in hope of keeping the wanderer; but in a short time he again disappeared, and secretly married the widow of Sir Philip Sidney. The Queen could never endure the marriage of her courtiers, still less that of a favorite. She banished him; but he reappeared in a few months, and only regained the Queen's grace by neglecting his fair, sweet wife, who lived in seclusion in the country while he shone at court.
When Essex was about twenty-nine years old he set out with the royal army for Cadiz, and at parting Elizabeth gave him a ring, telling him, "whatever crimes his enemies might accuse him of, or whatever offences he may have committed against her, if he sent it to her she would forgive him." The precious gift was probably a true-love-knot, set with a gem that means unchanging; for the time was rich with sentiment in trinkets, and we may be sure the compact was sealed with vows and kisses on the proffered hand. He returned from Spain unsuccessful, and although the Queen still petted him, from this time on they quarrelled. Essex was haughty and insolent; and she, violent and exacting with him, yet forgiving in the end.
When she decided to appoint a Lord-Deputy for Ireland, then in a state of revolt, she called to her private room three of her court officers—Cecil, the Clerk of the Seal, and Essex. He expected the appointment, but failed to get it, spoke angrily to the Queen, and turned his back on her. She boxed his ears, and told him to "go and be hanged." So furious was he that his hand reached for his short sword, but Cecil stepped between them; and Essex said, with an oath, "that he would not have taken that blow from King Henry, her father, and it was an indignity he neither could nor would endure from any one." Then muttering something about "a king in petticoats," he rushed madly from her presence. In any one else such conduct would have been death.
Again the Earl disappeared from court, and he and Elizabeth never were good friends afterwards, although a peace was patched up, and she made him Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland. His enemies persuaded her that the Lord-Lieutenant wanted to make himself King of Ireland; spies were sent to watch him, but one of them was kind enough to warn Essex of his danger. With his usual rashness, on learning this he at once returned to London, without permission of the Queen—an act in itself treason—and finding court adjourned to "Nonesuch" in the country, he rode at speed through mud and mire to anticipate his enemy, Lord Gray, who had heard of his arrival, and started in haste to give his version of the affair before Essex could reach her. Gray had been closeted with the Queen's councillors a half-hour when he arrived. Hearing this, Essex lost all sense of propriety, hurried unannounced to the Queen's apartments, and not finding her in the outer reception-room, pushed on into her private bedroom. Her maid was combing her hair, which, gray and thin, was hanging about her bony shoulders—for she had not yet made choice of her eighty wigs of many colors for the day—nor were her paint and powder on, and patches pasted over the wrinkled cheek.
He threw himself at her feet, covered her hand with kisses, poured out his story with oaths of fidelity, vowing that he had ever borne in his heart the picture of her beauty, completely winning the "most sweet Queen" to him. He retired to dress, and in an hour was recalled to an audience, and was again well received. But by night the fitful maiden had changed her mind, influenced by the Cecil faction, and perhaps by thinking how ugly she must have looked in the morning. She was then sixty-eight years old, and as vain as in youth. When he again offered respectful homage she received him with great sternness, and commanded him to confine himself in his apartments until sent for to appear before her council the following day. His ever-active enemy Cecil brought against him many charges—not least, "his over-bold going to her Majesty's presence in her bedchamber."
QUEEN ELIZABETH.
The Queen then ordered him to be held a prisoner at York House, where he remained many months. He pretended to be sick—a trick he had to gain forgiveness when his royal mistress was out of humor; but it did not move her this time, although it soon became reality. His wife was not permitted to visit him, nor even write to him. He had only one true friend at court, the gentle Lady Scroope, his cousin, and sister of the Countess of Nottingham. She wore mourning for him, and endured bad treatment from Elizabeth on his account, but stood faithful to the end.
Yet the lovesick woman could not entirely banish thought of her proud favorite, although her mind was constantly filled with suspicions by Cecil and Raleigh. To forget him she had bear-baitings, jousts at the ring, and a splendid tourney in honor of her coronation day. These frivolities filled the weeks that poor Essex passed alone and wretched in one room at York House. Elizabeth would not listen to the prayers of his sisters and Lady Scroope for his release, but she accepted the costly presents they offered, among them a gown worth £500 (about $2500). Essex finally fell so ill that his life was despaired of. On hearing his pitiable state the Queen wept, and sent him her own physician, and had prayers read for him in all the churches of London, but something changed her mood again, and she was harsher than ever. Not until March 16, 1600, did she allow him to go to his own home, Essex House on the river and the Fleet, first sending away his family and all the servants but two. Essex was kept there prisoner for seventeen weeks, when the Queen removed his keeper and allowed him to become a prisoner on parole.
During this time he was examined before a commission of his enemies, appointed for the purpose, and was treated most cruelly. They let him stand, occasionally leaning for rest against a cupboard, from nine in the morning till eight at night; and when accused of treason, he replied: