What it must have meant to him to be offered the crown of the Netherlands!
I turned back to his letter.
"I made no answer and continued to consider the matter. You will be pleased to hear that I have made Essex General of the Horse. I spent much time listening to sermons and singing psalms, for these are a people who take their religion very seriously. Now I must tell you that I have discussed this matter with the Queen's secretary, Davison, who is here, and with Philip Sidney and they are both of the opinion that I must satisfy the people by accepting the offer. So, my dearest Lettice, I am now Governor of the United Provinces."
There was a later note.
"I have been installed at The Hague. I wish you could have seen this impressive ceremony. I sat beneath the arms of the Netherlands and England, on a chair of state, and all about me were representatives from the principal states. Thanks were given to the Queen and to me, the Lieutenant General, now Governor of the United Provinces. I took the necessary oath and swore to protect them and work for their good and that of the church. How I wish you were here! You would have been proud of me.
"Now, my dear Lettice, I want you to join me. Remember you come here as a queen. You will know how to do that. We shall live here and you will no longer be in exile as you call it. I long to see you."
I read and reread that letter. I was to go as a queen. I should be royal as she was, and beautiful as she never could be. Life was going to be exciting. I was exultant. What would she say, what would she do, when she heard that I was going to the Netherlands as Leicester's Queen?
I lost no time in beginning my preparations. I would go as a queen. I would be more splendid than Elizabeth had ever been.
So at last I was coming to my triumph. I was realizing what it meant to be Leicester's wife. I should be Queen with no one to command me, and if it must be at The Hague instead of Greenwich and Windsor, what cared I?
Merchants came to Leicester House with the finest materials that existed. I planned my wardrobe with frantic haste and the seamstresses were busy night and day. I ordered coaches with the arms of the Netherlands entwined with those of Robert. I designed rich ornaments for myself, my companions and even the horses. I had decided to take a company of ladies and gentlemen with me. The cavalcade which rode to Harwich would excite the people of the countryside because they would never have seen anything so splendid before. What I would show them would be a hundred times more rich, more luxurious than anything the Queen had ever possessed.
Those were exciting weeks. I longed to begin my journey.
One February day, when I was in the midst of these preparations, I heard that William Davison, the Queen's secretary, who had accompanied Robert to the Netherlands, had arrived at Court to give the Queen a full account of what had happened.
Robert Governor of the United Provinces! Accepting such an office without consulting her! Taking a post which meant his living out of England! Her rage was terrible, said those who saw it.
Someone—who must have liked to ferment trouble—mentioned that Robert's Countess was also preparing to join him with the state of a queen.
How she swore! They said that her father never surpassed her in that. She swore by God's blood that she would teach Leicester and his She-Wolf a lesson. So they were playing at King and Queen, were they? She would teach them that royalty was not something to be taken up by commoners, simply because they were misguided enough to think themselves—erroneously— worthy of it!
She sent Heneage off at once. He was to go to Leicester and tell him he must arrange another ceremony. And in this he would give up his governorship and tell the people of the Netherlands that he was but a servant of the Queen of England and was now in deep disgrace for having acted without her permission. Then he could come back and kick his heels in the Tower.
Poor Davison was berated and hardly allowed to speak, but after a while she listened and then when her rage had subsided a little she must have thought of the humiliation she was imposing on Robert and modified her judgment. He would, of course, give up the governorship, but it must be relinquished in a manner which would bring the least humiliation. But he must not think she was not furious. She had declared publicly, so that foreign princes might know, that she was determined not to take the Governorship of the Netherlands, and now one of her subjects had snatched it, seeing in it a prize which he could enjoy. It would appear that she had given that permission—for none would believe that a subject could have dared presume so much— and it would be believed that she had broken her word.
"As for that She-Wolf," she cried, "she can unpack her jewels. She can lay aside her fine gowns. She can give up all thought of riding in glory to The Hague. Instead she can go humbly to the Tower and beseech the privilege of seeing the prisoner, making sure how she conducts herself, lest she find a long stay awaiting her in that place."
Poor Robert! How brief was his glory. Poor me, who had thought to come out of the shadows only to find myself back in them. And the hatred of the Queen grown even more intense towards me, for I knew that she would convince herself that I, not her beloved Robin, had planned and schemed to put myself upon a throne.
After that disastrous Netherlands adventure, none but Robert could have survived. I had always known he was no soldier. He would have been wonderfully impressive during those parades through the streets. I could picture him at the ceremonies; but it was a very different matter when it came to facing the experienced and ruthless Duke of Parma, who could not be expected to stand aside while Robert indulged himself and the people with great spectacles.
It was a great blow when Parma struck where it was least expected and took the town of Grave, which Robert had thought to be well fortified—and afterwards that of Venlo.
The wrath of the Queen added to his difficulties, for no money was coming from England for the soldiers' pay and the officers were quarreling among themselves. Robert told me much later of the nightmare he lived through and how he never wanted to see the Netherlands again.
The entire campaign was a disaster, and for us there was a personal tragedy.
I was very fond of the Sidney family, and Philip was the favorite of us all. Mary, his mother, and I had become friendly since we were both exiles from Court—she voluntarily and I most reluctantly. She still wore a fine veil over her face and rarely went to Court although the Queen continued to welcome her and respect her desire for privacy in her own apartment in the royal residences.
In May I had news from Mary that her husband's health was worsening. He had been ailing for some time and had refused to rest; so it was not surprising to hear soon after that he was dead. I went to Penshurst to be with her, and I was glad I did, for in August, Mary herself died. Her daughter, Mary, Countess of Pembroke, came to Penshurst to be with her mother at the end, and we deplored the fact that Philip was with the armies of the Netherlands and could not be present.
It seemed a blessing in a way that Mary Sidney should die before the great tragedy befell her, for I knew her feelings well enough to understand that what was about to happen would be the cruelest blow of her life.
It was September—a month after the death of Lady Sidney— when Leicester decided to attack Zutphen.
The story of what happened was pieced together afterwards, but it is one of recklessness and heroism, and I often think that if Philip had been more realistic and less knightly it need never have happened.
A series of incidents led to what followed. When he left his tent he fell in with Sir William Pelham, who had forgotten to put on his leg armor. Foolishly, Philip said that he must not have an advantage over a friend and discarded his own. It was a ridiculous gesture for which he paid a high price, for later, during the action, a bullet struck his left thigh. He was able to remain on horseback, but suffered greatly from loss of blood and, surrounded by his friends, he cried out that he was dying of thirst rather than loss of blood. A water bottle was thrust into his hands, but just as he was about to drink he saw a dying soldier on the ground who called feebly for water.