Mary sent a message saying that she should come to London for her own safety, although probably with the intention of arresting her for treason. The message came back that Elizabeth was far too ill to move. She requested the Court’s doctors to attend her, but the Council refused. When it was suggested she see local doctors, she replied, ‘I am not minded to make any stranger privy to the state of my body.’25
Mary arranged for Dr George Owen and Dr Thomas Wendy to come and examine Elizabeth and oversee her travel, accompanied by Lord William Howard (Elizabeth’s great-uncle), Sir Edward Hastings and Sir Thomas Cornwallis. Lord William wrote to the Queen that he found Elizabeth very willing, but that she had feared that she was so weak as to be unable to travel without fear for her life. She ‘therefore desired some longer respite until she had better recovered her strength; but in conclusion, upon the persuasion … she is resolved to remove hence tomorrow towards your Highness …’26
It was agreed that Elizabeth could move, but only very slowly and carefully. On 12 February, they set out, although when Elizabeth was brought to the litter ‘she was very faint and feeble and in such case that she was ready to swound three or four times.’ They had 30 miles to travel, which Lord William estimated would take 5 days: in fact, it took 10.27
At the outskirts of London, Elizabeth had the curtains of the litter drawn back so that she could be seen lying there, thin and pale. She was dressed in white, the colour of innocence and purity. This gesture was, in part, in response to new rumours that she was pregnant, this time by Courtenay. Renard had reported as much to Charles V: ‘Wyatt [who had been arrested] cannot be executed until he has been confronted with the Lady Elizabeth, who is so unwell that she only travels two or three leagues a day, and has such a stricken conscience that she refuses meat or drink. It is taken for certain that she is with child.’ A week later Renard reported that a French plot had been uncovered regarding Courtenay and Elizabeth, ‘who, they say, has lived loosely like her mother, and is now with child.’28
For a princess suspected of treason, with powerful enemies, London was horrific. There were gallows on the streets with the hanged bodies of traitors. Courtenay had been arrested and was incarcerated in the Tower, as was Henry Grey, 1st Duke of Suffolk, who had tried to raise a rebellion in the Midlands with the aim of restoring his daughter, Lady Jane Grey, to the throne. His lunatic scheme led to both of their deaths on the block. On 12 February 1554, Lady Jane Grey and her husband, Guildford Dudley, were executed in the Tower. On 21 February, two days before Elizabeth arrived in London, the French Ambassador de Noailles described the gibbeted bodies and severed heads on display, adding ‘… the Princess Elizabeth, for whom no better fate is foreseen, is lying ill, about seven or eight miles from hence, so swollen and disfigured that her death is expected …’29
Elizabeth was taken to Whitehall Palace, where she was confined to her rooms, and her servants were sent away and replaced with supporters of the Queen. The evidence against her in plotting to overthrow Mary was circumstantial; a letter from her to Mary had been found in the possession of the French Ambassador’s messenger, suggesting she had been in written contact with him. The rebel Wyatt had also sent letters to her at Ashridge, and another rebellion leader, Sir James Crofts, had actually visited the house.
On 15 March, Bishop Gardiner came to Whitehall with about 20 of the Councillors and confronted Elizabeth, accusing her of being party to the uprisings of Sir Peter Carew and Sir Thomas Wyatt. Elizabeth was due to be sent to the Tower the following day, but managed to delay matters by writing a letter to the Queen. Her guardians, William Paulet, 1st Marquess of Winchester, and Thomas Radclyffe, 3rd Earl of Sussex, were divided over whether the letter should be sent, with the latter winning out. Elizabeth pleaded for her sister to hear her out:
If any ever did try this old saying, ‘that a King’s word was more than another man’s oath’, I most humbly beseech your majesty to verify it to me, and to remember your last promise and my last demand, that I be not condemned without answer and due proof, which it seems that I now am; for without cause proved, I am by your Council from you commanded to go to the Tower, a place more wanted for a false traitor than a true subject, which though I know I desire it not, yet in the face of all this realm it appears proved. I pray to God I may die the shamefullest death that any ever died, if I may mean any such thing; and to this present hour I protest before God (who shall judge my truth, whatsoever malice may devise), that I never practiced, counselled, not consented to anything that might be prejudicial to your person any way, or dangerous to the state by any means … I pray God the like evil persuasions persuade not one sister against the other, and all for that they have heard false reports, and the truth not known. Therefore, once again, kneeling with humbleness of heart, because I am not suffered to bow the knees of my body, I humbly crave to speak with your Highness, which I would not be so bold as to desire if I knew not myself most clear, as I know myself most true …
Your Highness’s most faithful subject, that hath been from the beginning, and will be to my end, Elizabeth. I humbly crave but only one word of answer from yourself.30
This desperate attempt to prick the Queen’s conscience gained Elizabeth 24 hours, but infuriated Mary, who lashed out at the nobles who delivered the letter, saying they would never have dared thwart her father in such a manner.
Thus, on 17 March, Elizabeth, accompanied by her guardians, went by river to be imprisoned in the Tower. She was attended by three of her ladies-in-waiting, three of the Queen’s, a gentleman usher and two grooms. Sir John Gage, the Lord Chamberlain and acting Constable of the Tower, was with them. Radclyffe, mindful that Elizabeth might survive and become heir to the throne, reminded them that they should remember who they were dealing with. If Elizabeth was found guilty of treason, it would be the perfect opportunity to rid themselves of her permanently. Renard and the Spanish delegation put pressure on Mary, warning that Philip would be unwilling to come to England as her husband as long as traitors like Elizabeth posed a threat, and that even if Elizabeth’s part in Wyatt’s rebellion could not be proved, she was still a possible focus for future uprisings. Renard wrote in his dispatches ‘… that it was of the utmost importance that the trials and executions of the criminals, especially those of Courtenay and Elizabeth, should be concluded before the arrival of the prince … as long as Elizabeth was alive, there was no hope that the kingdom could be tranquil.’31
Bishop Gardiner, desperate to protect a precariously Catholic England, was convinced of Elizabeth’s guilt and sought to find solid proof against her, beyond the circumstantial evidence that he had. The incriminating letter held by the French Ambassador was a copy, so it might not have come from Elizabeth since it could have been copied by anyone, including any number of spies at Court hired by the French. Equally, although Wyatt had sent letters to Ashridge, there was no evidence that they had ever reached Elizabeth or that she had responded to them. Crofts might have visited Ashridge, but even he admitted that he had spoken only to one of Elizabeth’s servants and had no idea if she had ever got his message or if she supported him. As for the alleged link between Elizabeth and Courtenay, Lord William Paget had to admit that he had once, on instructions from the Council, asked Courtenay if he might consider marrying Elizabeth, and Courtenay had very firmly refused.
Even the accusation that Elizabeth wanted to flee to the well-fortified Donnington Castle proved to be suspect; whatever the rebellion leaders might have wanted, Elizabeth had not gone anywhere. The interrogations carried on, but there was no additional evidence, and what little there was became more shaky by the day. When the rebellion leader Sir James Crofts was brought to the Tower to confront Elizabeth with his evidence, he knelt to her, and according to the report confessed that: ‘He was heartily sorry to be brought in that day to be a witness against her Grace, but he took God to record that he never knew anything of her, worthy the least suspicion.’32 On 11 April 1554, Wyatt was executed; eyewitnesses reported that on the
scaffold he exonerated Elizabeth from any part in the plots.
While her enemies lobbied for her execution, Elizabeth’s life in the Tower improved slightly. She was permitted to walk through the adjacent rooms, and eventually she was allowed to go out into a small, walled garden. The five-year-old son of the Keeper of the Wardrobe and two little girls visited her until they were forbidden to do so: it was thought they might be passing her messages from Courtenay, who was also in the Tower at the time.
Outside, there was chaos among the Councillors. Renard wrote to Charles V that ‘… quarrels, jealousy and ill-will have increased among the Councillors, becoming so public that several of them, out of spite, no longer attend the meetings. What one does, another undoes; what one advises, another opposes; one strives to save Courtenay, another Elizabeth; and such is the confusion that one can only expect the upshot to be arms and tumult.’33 The political vacillation was due to the fact that everyone recognized that Elizabeth was still heir to the throne until Mary married and produced a child.
Despite Mary’s reverence for Charles V, her burgeoning love for Philip and her respect for Renard, she would not agree to Elizabeth being tried for treason when there was so little evidence against her. While Mary would have preferred to find Elizabeth guilty, she could only do so, in all conscience, in the face of serious and convincing proof. Without this, Mary stood firm.
Realizing that Elizabeth might escape execution, Renard devised a back-up plan and proposed that she should be married, preferably to a Spanish dependent, and should live abroad. The primary candidate was Emmanuel Philibert, Duke of Savoy and Prince of Piedmont, which were grand-sounding titles for a ruler without a kingdom. He was, however, Philip’s cousin. His mother, Beatriz, was the sister of Philip’s mother, Isabel, both daughters of Manuel I (King of Portugal 1495–1521) and Maria of Aragon, Catherine of Aragon’s sister. Elizabeth, however, refused to entertain the marriage, knowing that she would have the support of the Council, who would oppose any attempt to have her married abroad to an insignificant Spanish nobleman.
After two months of uncertainty and fear in the Tower, Elizabeth was appointed a new jailer, Sir Henry Bedingfield. On 19 May 1554, they left the Tower for the palace of Woodstock, where Elizabeth was to be held under house arrest. Bedingfield had hoped for a quiet, anonymous journey, but he was rudely disabused of this almost immediately. Passing through Windsor, the boys of Eton College turned out in force to cheer the princess, while local women made cakes and ‘wafers’ (biscuits) for her and tossed them into her litter. At Aston, they rang the church bells, and a frustrated and angry Bedingfield ordered that the bell-ringers be arrested. At Ricote ‘Her Grace was marvellously entertained’ at the house of Sir John Williams, Baron Williams of Thame, who had accompanied Bedingfield from the Tower. Somewhat annoyed at the turn of events, Bedingfield told Williams that Mary I might not care for his actions. Williams replied that ‘he was well advised of his doing and that her grace [Elizabeth] might and should in his house be merry.’34
All along the route to Woodstock, people came to cheer Elizabeth. Mary I had become increasingly unpopular with the people because of her violent repression of non-Catholics. During her rule, hundreds of Protestants were burned at the stake, earning her the name ‘Bloody Mary’. For Elizabeth, the obvious and public signs of the people’s affection were a clear indication of her popularity over Mary and would surely help her endure the months to come.
Arriving at their destination, they found the palace had virtually fallen into ruin; Elizabeth and her servants were obliged to make their home in four rooms in the gatehouse. While Bedingfield proved an exasperating, pedantic guardian, checking even the smallest request with the Council before granting or refusing it, he meant her no harm and was not cruel to her. She might not be allowed to send or receive letters without permission, but she was able to read any book she could get her hands on and to take walks in the gardens and orchard when the weather permitted.
Elizabeth was always aware of spies around her, reporting every word and deed to the Council and to the Imperial Ambassador. As if to reinforce her claim of innocence, she is reported to have written a short verse in charcoal on the wall of one of her chambers (others say on a window shutter). Although it faded with time, copies were made in the 1590s and early 1600s. The verse starts by blaming Fortune for causing the writer to be at Woodstock, a helpless prisoner:
… Thou causedst the guilty to be loosed
From lands where innocents were enclosed,
And caused the guiltless to be reserved,
And freed those that death had well deserved.
But all herein can be naught wrought,
So God grant to my foes as they have thought.
FINIS ELISABETHA A PRISONER 155535
The verse ends with a version of the saying that God will send ‘evil to he who evil thinks’. The message is clear – although surrounded by evildoers, the innocent will have the final vengeance.
By the end of June, Elizabeth was ill again, ‘daily vexed with swelling in the face and other parts of her body.’36 Her favourite doctors could not attend to her, but they recommended two others from Oxford who were never summoned. Elizabeth disliked strangers and would, she said, rather leave the outcome of her illness to God.37
Exacerbating her dire situation was that money from London was slow in coming. Wages for servants and guards did not arrive and Bedingfield had to pay for supplies out of his own pocket. This neglect by the Council may have been due in part to the fact that on 25 July 1554, Philip and Mary were married in a grand ceremony at Winchester Cathedral, with all the great nobles of Europe present. Elizabeth was not invited, of course. The couple travelled slowly back to the capital, arriving in London on 18 August. By November, Mary reported that she was pregnant. The Court did not have much time to consider Elizabeth’s well being, out of sight and mind, as she was, at dreary Woodstock.
In the months to follow, Bedingfield and Elizabeth continued to live in a state of heightened irritation with each other. She made numerous requests, many of which he believed were frivolous and meant to annoy. He refused to allow her to do even simple things without seeking permission from the Council, a process that usually took weeks. As time passed, Elizabeth’s friends and servants, particularly Sir Thomas Parry, began to appear in Woodstock village, staying at the local inn, The Bull. Bedingfield could not prevent them from coming, so had the added worry that they might try to communicate with the princess.
In a ruined palace, short of money, constantly rubbing each other up the wrong way, Elizabeth and her governor each existed in a state little short of martyrdom. When she became Queen, Elizabeth is reported to have said to him, ‘If we have any prisoner whom we would have sharply and straitly kept, we will send for you.’38 However, as she never punished him, perhaps she recognized that his lack of malice outweighed his infuriating insistence on following rules.
Finally, in April 1555, Elizabeth was allowed to leave Woodstock to come back to Hampton Court and attend the Queen in her late pregnancy. Mary had little choice but to attempt to mend fences with her sister. Childbirth was dangerous at the time, and a new mother, bearing her first child at about the age of 40, was in particular danger. The Queen and Philip had to consider the implications of mother and child dying, since the Council and Parliament had rigorously refused to make Philip King Regnant, which would have allowed him to rule England if Mary and their child died. Mary’s successor, despite all her attempts to change the fact, was Elizabeth. Philip may also have softened Mary’s attitude towards her sister for political motives – Spain was wary of France at the time, and as the other heiress to the English throne was the French ally Mary, Queen of Scots, he may have felt that Elizabeth was the lesser of two evils.
When she arrived at Hampton Court, Elizabeth was met by Philip. Later she was confronted by Bishop Gardiner and the Council, who requested that she admit her ‘offences’ and beg the Queen for forgiveness. Elizabeth reminded them t
hat she had not committed any offences and so had nothing to confess; she would prefer to remain a prisoner all her life than admit to something she had never even entertained.
Finally, at 10 p.m., Elizabeth was taken to meet Mary. The Queen accused Elizabeth of conspiring against her; Elizabeth wept and swore her loyalty. The meeting ended with the Queen saying ‘God knows’ in Spanish, leading to the legend that Philip was hidden somewhere in or near the room, eavesdropping on their conversation to try to get a better understanding of his sister-in-law. 39
The whole Court awaited the imminent birth of an heir. Elizabeth had very few visitors, although she was allowed to receive who she liked. She stayed in her rooms and waited with the rest. Mary, ecstatic in her pregnancy and believing the birth of a son to be only a few weeks away, felt secure enough to release Courtenay and exile him; he died in Padua in September 1556. She also released the Dudley brothers from the Tower, where they had been imprisoned with their father when he had tried to put Lady Jane Grey on the throne; Guildford had already been executed, John died shortly after his release, but Ambrose, Robert and Henry joined the English army in France.
As April progressed, there were no signs of labour, but it was not easy to calculate when the full-term of a pregnancy was due, so May came and went before it became clear that all was not well. Throughout June, Mary desperately clung to her fading hope, but by July it became obvious that, whatever this was, it was not a pregnancy. Mary was devastated.
While Mary kept to her rooms, praying for a child, her husband Philip began to get to know his sister-in-law. He and Elizabeth spent a lot of time together, not without comment. In 1557, Giovanni Michiel, the Venetian Ambassador, would write to the Doge, ‘at the time of the Queen’s pregnancy, Lady Elizabeth … contrived so to ingratiate herself with all the Spaniards, and especially with the King, that ever since no one has favoured her more than he does.’ He also thought that Philip did ‘not only … not permit, but opposed, and prevented the Queen’s [Mary’s] wish to have her [Elizabeth] … declared a bastard by Act of Parliament … and consequently ineligible to the throne, which, besides affection, argued some particular design on the part of the King with regard to her.’40
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