chequer. Deputy after deputy was sent over, only to return more or less disgraced and impoverished. The ancient Brehon law was done away with, the ancient religion remained. The story of treachery, bloodshed, wholesale massacres, and ferocity on one side or the other is hideously monotonous. The one single monument of Elizabeth's rule in Ireland which reflects any honour upon her memory is the university of Dublin, which opened its doors in 1593 and admitted the great Ussher, then a boy of thirteen, among its first undergraduates. It was in this very vear that the rebellion of Tyrone broke out. For five weary years Ireland was ravaged and plundered by one side and the other with the usual barbarities. On 14 Aug. 1598 things came to a crisis. Tyrone had laid siege to Blackwatertown, a stronghold of some importance, well garrisoned and stubbornly defended, situated about five miles from Armagh. Sir Henry Bagnell, marshal of the queen's army in Ireland, hurried to the relief of the fort with nearly four thousand men. Tyrone turned upon him and utterly defeated the English host. Bagnell himself, a large number of his officers, and more than seven hundred of his men were slain. The completeness and the disgrace of the defeat produced a profound impression (Chamberlain, Letters, Camden Soc. 1851). Lord Burghley died just ten days before this disaster.
Of all the stories that have been told of Queen Elizabeth none are more honourable to her memory than those which speak of her kind and gentle treatment of Lord Burghley during his last illness. When her faithful treasurer, to whom she owed so much during his lifelong service, lay dying, the queen visited him again and again. In him she lost the firm supporter on whom she knew she could rely without misgiving, the wise counsellor who was never at fault, the faithful minister whose loyalty was his religion. 'Serve God by serving the queen' were almost the last words he wrote to his son, Sir Robert Cecil, three weeks before he died.
All the old advisers of the queen had died off now. Leicester, Walsingham, Hatton, and now the great Cecil, had all passed away; a very different band had gathered round her. There was no more the old severity and caution and largeness of view, nor was there the old unquestioning submission to her will. The new men were squabbling among themselves for the first place, in the hope that they might acquire ascendency over her, not with the simple desire to serve her loyally. Young Sir Robert Cecil, now about twenty-five years old, was the only man who had inherited the traditions of the old days. Raleigh and Essex were both brilliant, passionate, jealous of each other, with a certain martial ardour and restlessness which they had in common, and a certain craving for adventure, which was the outcome of their romantic temperament.
When Lord Burghley died, Robert, earl of Essex, had been ten years at court. He was in his thirty-first year, and had received from the queen many and signal proofs of her favour. But his arrogance was unbounded, and, though Elizabeth entertained for him a strong feeling of personal interest amounting to affection, he presumed so outrageously upon her indulgence that it is wonderful she bore with him so long. In 1593, at the suggestion of Francis Bacon, Essex threw himself with characteristic energy into the study of foreign affairs, and employed a large staff of 'intelligencers' to furnish him with reports from all parts of Europe. In 1594 he believed that he had discovered a plot against the queen's life. Dr. Lopez, the queen's physician, was accused of having accepted a bribe to poison her. Burghley and Sir Robert Cecil put no faith in it; Elizabeth herself laughed at it; but Essex vehemently persisted in his accusation of the unhappy man, and he was executed on evidence which was shamefully insufficient. Then came the Cadiz and the Island voyages. On his return from the latter Essex found that he had lost ground at court. He became more and more petulant and unmannerly, and a few weeks before Burghley's death he was so unbearably insolent to the queen that she gave him a violent box on the ear. Essex put his hand upon his sword-hilt. It was wellnigh the most dramatic incident in Elizabeth's life.
Raleigh was in disgrace, Essex was irrepressible. Whether he wished it or not may admit of doubt, but in March 1599 Essex was appointed 'lieutenant and governor-general of Ireland' (Devereux, ii. II). He failed signally. The queen wrote angrily, and on 30 July peremptorily forbade his leaving his post. In September he agreed to a truce with Tyrone. Eiizabeth was very indignant, and warned him against coming to any terms with the Irish without her sanction being obtained beforehand. Essex forthwith left Dublin, and on 28 Sept. arrived in London, directly contrary to orders. The flagrant disobedience of orders was utterly indefensible, and a less severe sentence than was passed could hardly have been pronounced. Essex was dismissed from all offices of state, and ordered to remain a prisoner in his own house at the queen's pleasure; this was on 5 June 1600. Immediately after Essex had appeared
