Queen of This Realm

by Jean Plaidy

  I had never eaten heartily; now I found it hard to eat at all. My ladies fussed over me and I was too tired to reprove them.

  One night, when I was unable to sleep, I saw a strange light in my room, and as my eyes grew accustomed to its brilliance, I saw a figure in the fire. It was myself, exceedingly lean, and yet somehow radiant.

  I thought: Leicester, Burghley, Hatton, Heneage, Essex… they have all gone. Now it is my turn.

  In the morning I spoke of the vision to one of my women. It might have been Lady Scrope or Lady Southwell—I forgot such details almost as soon as they had happened. I asked her if she had ever seen visions in the night, and for a few seconds she could not hide her alarm and I saw the thoughts in her eyes.

  I said: “Bring me a mirror, for mirrors, unlike courtiers, do not lie.”

  So she brought it to me and I looked at my face—the face of an old woman who had lived for nearly seventy years … old, white … unadorned… tired and ready to go.

  So the end is near. I was never more sure of anything. I can feel death all around me.

  I shall write no more. This will be the last. So I sit, thinking of all that has gone, the dangers of my youth, the glory of my middle life, and the sadness of the end. Leicester, I thought, you should never have left me. You should have stayed to the end and we could have gone together.

  Much has been said of me. There have been many rumors, and perhaps there always will be for kings and queens are remembered and spoken of long after their deaths. Their smallest acts are recorded and commented on and they are magnified or diminished, shown as good or bad, according to the views of the recorder. Of my life much will be written. But no one can take away the greatness of events and for those who love the truth it will be seen as a good reign.

  And what will they say of me? I am not like other women. I did not seek to subjugate myself to men. I demanded their submission to me. I have been a good queen because I loved my people and my people returned my love. But men will say, Why did she not marry? There must be some reason why she refused us all. There was, but they will not believe it, because all people judge others by themselves. So many of them are so overwhelmed by the importance of the sexual act, that they cannot believe that it is of little importance to others. I had no desire to experience it. This they will never believe, but it is so. I enjoyed having men about me because I liked them as much as—if not more than—women. I wanted them to court me, to compliment me, to fall desperately in love with me. Did they not have to do that to win my favor?—except, of course, the brilliant ones whose minds I respected. I wanted perpetual courtship, for when the fortress is stormed and brought to surrender, the battle is lost. The relationship between men and women is a battle of the sexes with the final submission of the woman to the man. The act itself is the symbol of triumph of the strong over the weak. I was determined never to give any man that triumph. The victory must always be mine. I wanted continual masculine endeavor, not triumph. I wanted, during every moment of my life, to be in absolute control. All physical appetites were unimportant to me. I had to eat and drink for my health's sake, but I always did so sparingly. I did not want that momentary satisfaction which comes from the gratification of appetite in whatsoever form it is.

  So I was always in control of my men unlike my poor Mary of Scotland, and consequently I had come to the end and could say with gratified resignation Nunc Dimittis, and pass on.

  It has amused me to hear some say that I was, in fact, a man. Yes, that makes me laugh. I have been a good queen, a wise queen; I have brought my country into a far happier and more prosperous state than it was in at my accession. I have tried to be tolerant. I have failed in this on one or two occasions, but that was only because I feared it would be dangerous to be lenient. Therefore men say: “No woman could attain so much, so she must have been a man! Only a man could be so great and wise.” So in spite of what I believe to be my excessive femininity they say: “She was secretly a man.”

  They hint that there was something strange about me, that I was malformed, that I could not have children and that was why I remained a virgin.

  They are wrong, all of them… except Mary of Scotland's Ambassador Melville all those years ago. I shall never forget his words.

  “I know your stately stomach. Ye think gin ye were married ye would be but Queen of England and now ye are King and Queen baith…ye may not suffer a commander.”

  He had the truth there. And I kept my determination to remain the commander of them all… and not even Robert could tempt me to share my crown with anyone.

  My crown and my virginity…I was determined to keep them both, and I did.

  I can feel the end coming nearer. I was born on the eve of the day which is celebrated as the nativity of the Virgin Mary. I wonder if I shall die on the festival of the annunciation. It would be appropriate for the Virgin Queen.

  Now I lay down my pen, for the end is coming very near.

  Aubrey, William Hickman Smith The National and Domestic History of England

  Beesley, E. S. Queen Elizabeth

  Bevan, Bryan The Great English Seamen of Elizabeth I

  Bigland, Eileen Henry VIII

  Black, J. S. The Reign of Elizabeth

  Chamberlin, Frederick The Private Character of Henry VIII

  Fraser, Antonia Mary Queen of Scots

  Froude, J. A. History of England

  Gorman, Herbert The Scottish Queen

  Guizot, M. Robert Black The History of France

  Hackett, Francis Henry the Eighth

  Harrison, G. B. Life and Death of Robert Devereux Earl of Essex

  Hume, David The History of England

  Hume, Martin Two English Queens and Philip

  Hume, Martin The Wives of Henry VIII

  Hume, Martin The Courtships of Queen Elizabeth

  Jenkins, Elizabeth Elizabeth the Great

  Jenkins, Elizabeth Elizabeth and Leicester

  Johnson, Paul Elizabeth I

  Luke, Mary M. A Crown for Elizabeth

  Mattingley, Garrett The Defeat of the Spanish Armada

  Mumby, F. A. The Girlhood of Queen Elizabeth

  Neale, J. E. Queen Elizabeth

  Prescott, William H. History of the Reign of Philip the Second

  Rea, Lorna The Spanish Armada

  Salzman, L. F. England in Tudor Times

  Stephen, Sir Leslie and Lee, Sir Sydney Dictionary of National Biography

  Strachey, Lytton Elizabeth and Essex

  Strickland, Agnes Lives of the Queens of England

  Wade, John British History

  Waldman, Milton Elizabeth and Leicester

  Waldman, Milton Queen Elizabeth, Brief Lives

  Waldman, Milton King, Queen, Jack

  Williams, Neville Elizabeth, Queen of England

  Wright, Thomas Elizabeth and Her Times

  JEAN PLAIDY is the pen name of the late English author E. A. Hibbert, who also wrote under the names Philippa Carr and Victoria Holt. Born in London in 1906, Hibbert began writing in 1947 and eventually published over two hundred novels under her three pseudonyms. The Jean Plaidy books—ninety in all—are works of historical fiction about the famous and infamous women of English and European history, from medieval times to the Victorian era. Hibbert died in 1993.

  ♦ One of Elizabeth's earliest memories is of being used as a bargaining chip. She is three years old, and her mother—the doomed Anne Boleyn—waves her little hand at her father, who looks down from a palace window. The action is Anne's last-ditch attempt to placate Henry's wrath and appeal to his sense of family. It fails, and Anne is executed. What lesson does Elizabeth learn—or think she learns—from this macabre memory?

  ♦ Elizabeth's stepmothers Katharine Howard and Katharine Parr fare very differently in the delicate position of wife to Henry VIII. What does Katharine Howard's demise teach Elizabeth about the male-female dynamic? What subtle gift distinguishes Katharine Parr, and eventually saves her life? Does Elizabeth share this gift?
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  ♦ Of her servants Kat and Parry, Elizabeth notes: “They were a pair of scandalmongers and I was often exasperated with them both. But they so obviously loved me, and I believe I was more important to them than anyone else; and for that reason I could never be annoyed with them for long.” This leniency with anyone who adores her informs Elizabeth's later reign as Queen—especially in regard to handsome men. When, if ever, does this soft-heartedness spell disaster for Elizabeth? Does this character trait change as she ages?

  ♦ As her brother Edward lies dying in Greenwich, young Elizabeth stays in Hatfield to await the outcome of the succession. “It is necessary to remain at a safe distance from great events, until one has decided what is the best way to act,” she muses. This becomes her motto in many situations she faces as Queen, from signing death warrants to joining international wars. Does it serve her well?

  ♦ When Elizabeth arrives at the Traitor's Gate in the Tower of London by orders of Queen Mary, her entrance is so dramatic, well-rehearsed, and sympathy-inducing that some of the guards burst into tears. Where else do you see Elizabeth shining in the limelight? Is she sincere, or is she a consummate actress? Does this dramatic flair ever undermine her ability to rule effectively?

  ♦ At Mary's funeral, Dr White, Bishop of Winchester, refers to Mary as a “dead lion,” and to Elizabeth as a “live dog,” prompting Elizabeth's first public display of fury. She promptly sends White to the Tower. What pithy argument does Cecil make against executing White? What larger issue does Cecil gently reference with this argument?

  ♦ “The sexual act was a symbol of domination on the part of the male, I had always thought, and I had no intention of being dominated for one moment even by the most attractive man I had ever known,” insists Elizabeth. Or, as she more succinctly puts it: “When the fortress is stormed and brought to surrender, the battle is lost.” Do you read Elizabeth's obsession with her own virginity as powerful or fearful? What spin does Plaidy put on this matter? Do you think Elizabeth's legacy would have been significantly different had she succumbed to her desire for Robert?

  ♦ Elizabeth is haunted by her father's personal and political legacy. Where do you see her consciously avoiding his tactics? Where do you see her imitating them? Which of Henry's successful tricks of the trade does Elizabeth elevate to an art form?

  ♦ What is the significance of Father Parson's Green Coat? What advice does Burghley offer Elizabeth in terms of dealing with it? What does he mean by the expression “A galled horse when he is touched will wince”?

  ♦ “I was as good a statesman as any of my men,” states Elizabeth, “but in addition I possessed a certain insight which was entirely feminine. It was not merely intuition—but that might have been part of it; it was an immense interest in people, which most men lack. They are too absorbed in themselves to bother much with other people's motives. Women want to know what is going on; they are insatiably curious. This gives my sex that extra knowledge of how people's minds work; it helps us to assess how they will act in certain circumstances.” Do you buy this? If so, do you find any examples in modern-day statecraft?

  11 ♦ What priceless and unusual gift does John Aylmer offer the Queen? Why does Plaidy include this anecdote in the narrative?

  ♦ When Mary Queen of Scots is found guilty of treason, Elizabeth agonizes over the signing of her death warrant. She has always been simultaneously fascinated and infuriated by Mary. Why does she find this queen so compelling? What alternative plan does she suggest for Mary's punishment, and why does it go awry at the hands of William Davison?

  ♦ While serving as commander of the English expedition to the Netherlands, Robert accepts an honor of sovereignty without consulting Elizabeth—a major faux pas. Furthermore, Elizabeth catches Lettice preparing to join Robert in the Netherlands amid great pomp and ceremony. After all these two have put her through, Elizabeth is primed to snap. Why is it politically shrewd for her to avoid publicly humiliating them for their rash actions? What price do they pay in private?

  ♦ At Robert's death, what small “victory over the she-wolf” does Elizabeth achieve?

  ♦ Essex is a vulgar, disrespectful, tantrum-throwing brat who is chronically unfaithful to his queen. Elizabeth's first impression of him reads: “He was very raw—and I saw at once that he had no political sense. He was the sort of man who spoke before he considered the effect his words might have—so he lacked the first quality of a courtier.” When Elizabeth entrusts him with a political campaign in Ireland, she admits, “He ignored my instructions…He would go his own way, which was the wrong one. He was defeated everywhere.” Yet despite all this, she tolerates him, even loves him. Explain why the event that finally ruins Essex in Elizabeth's eyes is a brief, innocuous meeting between the two in Elizabeth's chamber. What does she mean by “He destroyed a dream and with it himself”?

  ♦ Why is Amy Robert's death riddled with scandal? Why does Elizabeth say, “The death of Robert's wife was the greatest lesson I was ever likely to learn and if I did not take advantage of that, I deserved to lose my crown”? Are you convinced of Robert's innocence?

  I HAVE TAKEN FOR MY MOTTO “TIME UNVEILS TRUTH,” AND I believe that is often to be the case. Now that I am sick, weary and soon to die, I have looked back over my life which, on the whole, has been a sad and bitter one, though, like most people, I have had some moments of happiness. Perhaps it was my ill fortune to come into the world under the shadow of the crown, and through all my days that shadow remained with me—my right to it; my ability to capture it; my power to hold it.

  No child's arrival could have been more eagerly awaited than mine. It was imperative for my mother to give the country an heir. She had already given birth to a stillborn daughter, a son who had survived his christening only to depart a few weeks later, another son who died at birth, and there had been a premature delivery. The King, my father, was beginning to grow impatient, asking himself why God had decided to punish him thus; my mother was silently frantic, fearing that the fault was hers. None could believe that my handsome father, godlike in his physical perfection, could fail where the humblest beggar in the streets could succeed.

  I was unaware at the time, of course, but I heard later of all the excitement and apprehension the hope of my coming brought with it.

  Then, at four o'clock on the morning of the 18th of February in that year 1516, I was born in the Palace of Greenwich.

  After the first disappointment due to my sex being of the wrong gender, there was general rejoicing—less joyous, of course, than if I had been a boy, but still I was alive and appeared to be healthy and, as I believe my father remarked to my poor mother, who had just emerged from the exhaustion of a difficult labor, the child was well formed, and they could have more…a boy next time, then a quiverful.

  Bells rang out. The King and Queen could at least have a child who had a chance of living. Perhaps some remembered that other child, the precious boy who had given rise to even greater rejoicing and a few weeks later had died in the midst of the celebrations for his birth. But I was here, a royal child, the daughter of the King and Queen, and until the longed-for boy arrived to displace me, I was heir to the throne.

  I enjoyed hearing of my splendid baptism from both Lady Bryan, who was the lady mistress of the Household, and the Countess of Salisbury, who became my state governess. It had taken place on the third day after my birth, for according to custom christenings must take place as soon as possible in case the child did not survive. It took place in Greyfriar's Church close to Greenwich Palace, and the silver font had been brought from Christ Church in Canterbury, for all the children of my grandparents, Henry VII and Elizabeth of York, had had this silver font at their baptisms, and it was fitting that it should be the same for me. Carpets had been laid from the Palace to the font, and the Countess of Salisbury had the great honor of carrying me in her arms.

  My father had decreed that I should be named after his sister Mary. She had always been a favorite of his, even after her
exploits in France the previous year which had infuriated him. It showed the depth of his affection for her that he could have given me her name when she had so recently displeased him by marrying the Duke of Suffolk almost immediately after the death of her husband, Louis XII of France. She was more or less in exile at the time of my christening, in disgrace and rather poor, for she and Suffolk had to pay back to my father the dowry which he had paid to the French. In the years to come I liked to remind myself of that unexpected softness in his nature, and I drew a little comfort from it.

  My godfather was Cardinal Wolsey who, under the King, was the most important man in the country at that time. He gave me a gold cup; from my Aunt Mary, the wayward Tudor after whom I was named, I received a pomander. I loved it. It was a golden ball into which was inserted a paste of exquisite perfumes. I used to take it to bed with me and later I wore it at my girdle.

  The best time of my life was my early childhood before I had an inkling of the storms which were to beset me. Innocence is a beautiful state when one believes that people are all good and one is prepared to love them all and expect that love to be returned. One is unaware that evil exists, so one does not look for it. But, alas, there comes the awakening.

  A royal child has no secret life. He or she is watched constantly, and it is particularly so if that child is important to the state. I say this as no conceit. I was important because I was the only child of the King, and if my parents produced the desired boy, my importance would dwindle away. I should not have been watched over, inspected by ambassadors and received their homage due to the heir to the throne. It is difficult to understand when one is young that the adulation and respect are not for oneself but for the Crown.