Well, then--our course is chosen--spread the sail--
Heave oft the lead, and mark the soundings well--
Look to the helm, good master--many a shoal
Marks this stern coast, and rocks, where sits the Siren,
Who, like ambition, lures men to their ruin.--THE SHIPWRECK.
During the brief interval that took place betwixt the dismissal of the
audience and the sitting of the privy-council, Leicester had time to
reflect that he had that morning sealed his own fate. "It was impossible
for him now," he thought, "after having, in the face of all that was
honourable in England, pledged his truth (though in an ambiguous phrase)
for the statement of Varney, to contradict or disavow it, without
exposing himself, not merely to the loss of court-favour, but to the
highest displeasure of the Queen, his deceived mistress, and to the
scorn and contempt at once of his rival and of all his compeers." This
certainty rushed at once on his mind, together with all the difficulties
which he would necessarily be exposed to in preserving a secret which
seemed now equally essential to his safety, to his power, and to his
honour. He was situated like one who walks upon ice ready to give way
around him, and whose only safety consists in moving onwards, by firm
and unvacillating steps. The Queen's favour, to preserve which he
had made such sacrifices, must now be secured by all means and at all
hazards; it was the only plank which he could cling to in the tempest.
He must settle himself, therefore, to the task of not only preserving,
but augmenting the Queen's partiality--he must be the favourite of
Elizabeth, or a man utterly shipwrecked in fortune and in honour. All
other considerations must be laid aside for the moment, and he repelled
the intrusive thoughts which forced on his mind the image of, Amy, by
saying to himself there would be time to think hereafter how he was to
escape from the labyrinth ultimately, since the pilot who sees a Scylla
under his bows must not for the time think of the more distant dangers
of Charybdis.
In this mood the Earl of Leicester that day assumed his chair at the
council table of Elizabeth; and when the hours of business were over,
in this same mood did he occupy an honoured place near her during her
pleasure excursion on the Thames. And never did he display to more
advantage his powers as a politician of the first rank, or his parts as
an accomplished courtier.
It chanced that in that day's council matters were agitated touching the
affairs of the unfortunate Mary, the seventh year of whose captivity in
England was now in doleful currency. There had been opinions in favour
of this unhappy princess laid before Elizabeth's council, and supported
with much strength of argument by Sussex and others, who dwelt more upon
the law of nations and the breach of hospitality than, however softened
or qualified, was agreeable to the Queen's ear. Leicester adopted the
contrary opinion with great animation and eloquence, and described the
necessity of continuing the severe restraint of the Queen of Scots, as
a measure essential to the safety of the kingdom, and particularly
of Elizabeth's sacred person, the lightest hair of whose head, he
maintained, ought, in their lordships' estimation, to be matter of more
deep and anxious concern than the life and fortunes of a rival, who,
after setting up a vain and unjust pretence to the throne of England,
was now, even while in the bosom of her country, the constant hope and
theme of encouragement to all enemies to Elizabeth, whether at home or
abroad. He ended by craving pardon of their lordships, if in the zeal
of speech he had given any offence, but the Queen's safety was a theme
which hurried him beyond his usual moderation of debate.