TO LETTICE’S DELIGHT, on 11 January 1591 her son became a father for the first time. The Countess of Essex gave birth to a healthy son at Walsingham House, and the child was baptized there three days later.54 Lettice was asked to stand as godmother, and she attended his baptism alongside the baby’s great-grandfather, Sir Francis Knollys. Frances’s ‘little jewel’ was named Robert after his father, and from the start Lettice was extremely fond of ‘little Robin’.55 He would be her favourite grandchild, and as he grew, young Robert would spend much of his time with his grandmother.
The birth of her grandson was a cause for great celebration for Lettice, but the infant Robert was not the only child his father would sire that year. Essex’s marriage did not prevent him from indulging in extramarital affairs, and he was sexually promiscuous. As a result, he was responsible for the pregnancy of Elizabeth Southwell, one of the Queen’s ladies, and he flirted with many others.56 However, Essex realised that if the Queen learned the truth he could risk losing her favour. When the Queen was informed of Elizabeth’s pregnancy and reacted in her usual manner, Essex did nothing. Instead, in an attempt to protect Essex and his standing with the Queen, the blame and punishment was initially acknowledged by Sir Thomas Vavasour, one of Essex’s loyal followers.57 When Elizabeth gave birth to a son named Walter – a compliment to Essex’s father – Essex said nothing. It has been suggested that this child was sent to live with Lettice at Drayton Bassett, but this is highly unlikely, for had he done so then the true identity of Walter’s father would have become immediately apparent. And so it was not until May 1595 that the Queen discovered the truth of the matter, forcing Essex to acknowledge Elizabeth Southwell’s son as his own. From then on he referred to Walter as ‘his natural son’, and Lettice also took an interest in his welfare.58 So much so that in her will she later left him £50 (£4,460) and ‘a diamond ring with God’s blessing’.59
Elizabeth Southwell was not the only woman who caught Essex’s eye, and in the mid-1590s he also began an affair with Elizabeth Stanley, the daughter of the Earl of Oxford.60 Other names were also linked with his, and although each of these provoked the Queen’s fury when they came to light, Essex knew all too well that her anger would soon cool: his confidence was staggering. His wife, meanwhile, was so devoted to him that she turned a blind eye to his infidelities, and Lettice probably did the same. His promiscuity certainly did nothing to diminish her love for her beloved son.
THE LOVE THAT Lettice bore for her children knew no bounds, and she was therefore left devastated when, in the autumn of 1591, tragedy again struck the family. Earlier that year, Essex had been given command of the Queen’s forces, which were sent to Normandy to support the French King, Henri IV. France had long been in a state of civil war – in 1585 the eighth civil religious war had begun during the reign of Henri IV’s predecessor, Henri III. This was still being fought when Henri IV, a Huguenot, succeeded to the throne in 1589, but his claim was not recognized by many of his Catholic subjects. In 1576, the Catholic League had been formed, and with the support of Spain it was causing havoc. In 1590, Spanish troops landed in Brittany and Normandy, leaving Henri with no choice but to take military action. He had appealed to Elizabeth for her support, but she had stalled for some time, not wanting to commit money or resources to the enterprise. Essex had persistently urged her to act, and finally, alarmed at the thought of Spain taking control so close to England, the Queen agreed. Essex had landed at Dieppe on 2 August at the head of a four-thousand-strong army that included his younger brother, Walter. Walter was just shy of his twenty-second birthday, and idolized his elder brother. The expedition was to be his first experience of military warfare, but it would also be his last.
On 8 September, a skirmish took place at Rouen. As Lettice’s cousin Robert Carey sadly recorded in his memoirs, ‘unfortunately we lost Mr Walter Devereux, my Lord’s only brother, with a shot in the head, so we returned that night to Pavilly, the whole army being full of sorrow for the loss of so worthy a gentleman’.61 Essex was devastated by the death of his younger brother, for he was ‘dearer to me than ever I was to myself’.62 Sir Christopher Hatton was one of those who wrote to him with his condolences, expressing his sorrow at the death of ‘your noble brother, who hath so valiantly and honourably spent his life in his Prince’s and country’s service’.63 These were touching sentiments, but nothing could detract from the family’s loss. There is no record of how or when the news of the death of her youngest son was communicated to Lettice, but whatever the case his death came as a shattering blow to her. It was the second time in less than a decade that she had lost a child, and in total three of her sons had died. Essex was now her only surviving one, and as such he became all the more precious to her.
Aside from the tragedy that his brother’s death brought, Essex’s campaign in France was a disaster: he ignored the Queen’s orders, and wasted both time and money on frivolity. The Queen was not impressed, and commanded him to return home. He arrived in January 1592, bringing the body of young Walter with him. The casket was conveyed to Carmarthen for burial, where Walter was laid to rest in the same church as his father, although, as with him, there is no surviving monument to mark his memory. Walter’s death was the subject of an elegy by Madame de Maulette, a Frenchwoman residing in England.64 It was coupled with a remembrance of the death of Henri III of France, and was translated by Gervase Markham and published in 1597. Markham dedicated his work to Lettice’s daughters, and among the words extolling Walter’s virtues can be found,
And now I come to thee most blessed Saint,
Thou sweetest nightingale in the heavenly choir,
Noble born Walter Devereux.65
His mother and his siblings never forgot him, and when Essex’s wife gave birth to a son in 1592, the boy was named in honour of his deceased uncle.66
Following the death of her husband, Margaret Dakins returned to Huntingdon’s household, but her time there was to be brief. Just three months after Walter’s death she married for a second time, her groom being Thomas Sidney.67 She and Walter had never been happily married, but even so Lettice and her family were highly offended by the speed with which she had moved on. Never again would Margaret be welcomed by Devereux family.68
THE LETTERS WRITTEN by Lettice and her family members to one another make for pleasant reading. Here were a family who were all genuinely fond of one another, and in Lettice’s letters in particular we see a change in her style and character. When writing to Burghley, for example, her letters were to the point, even blunt on occasion. But the love she bore her children is unmistakeable. In one such letter she took care to remind Essex that ‘You are much beloved and greatly honoured in this desolate corner, not according to the fashion of your courtly mistresses but in our true country sincerity we will ever pray for the height of your happiness.’69 The latter part was perhaps an indication of the disapproval she felt about her son’s infidelities. She still complained that she did not get to see him nearly enough, and chided him for failing to ‘grace this ill-favoured cottage’, Drayton Bassett.70 She told him in no uncertain terms that ‘We wish you often with us to ease your burdened mind with some country sports; for we think of no enemies [the Spanish] till you remember [remind] us, so far are we from hearing foreign news.’71
Lettice’s youngest son was now dead, and her daughter Dorothy remained in disgrace with the Queen. By contrast, the stars of Essex and Penelope were still rising high at court, and it was left to them to promote the family’s interests. The Queen best loved Essex, and Penelope actively used her favour with the monarch in order to advance her brother. The siblings were extremely close, and Essex and Penelope spent a great deal of their time with one another. In his two surviving letters to his sister, it is clear that Essex depended on Penelope greatly. He recognized her intelligence and valued her advice and opinions not only as a sister, but also as a friend. Though Essex and Penelope worked together, there were those in the family who did not. Lettice’s sister, Lady Leight
on, still a presence at court and in high favour with the Queen, was not active on her nephew’s behalf. Neither does she appear to have made any attempt to intercede with the monarch on Lettice’s behalf, although the sisters were still very much in contact. To do so, she realized, was pointless, and she had no wish to risk losing the Queen’s favour towards herself and her family.
Lettice was naturally ambitious for her son, and actively encouraged Penelope’s efforts to support him. Although she and those around her were left in no doubt of Essex’s position, the Queen did not have the same confidence in him that she once had in Leicester. He did not share the same history with her that Leicester had done, and his character was wildly different from that of his stepfather. He could not control his petulance, but time and again the Queen forgave this. Proud Essex, however, did not learn from his mistakes.
CHAPTER 18
Disgraced Persons
THOUGH LETTICE CONTINUED to be styled Countess of Leicester despite her third marriage, in all other aspects her life had drastically changed since Leicester’s death. In 1593, she relinquished Leicester House – her home for the past decade and more – to her son Essex. It was renamed Essex House, but in the same way as it had been during Leicester’s lifetime, it remained a hub of social activity and artistic patronage. There were also constant reminders of Lettice’s presence, including her portrait which adorned the walls of the dining chamber, ensuring that her son would not forget about her. Likewise, in acknowledgement of ‘divers debts of the late Earl of Leicester due to Her Majesty’ that ‘remain still unpaid by Sir Christopher Blount, and the Countess of Leicester, his wife, executrix of the said Earl’, it had been agreed that Wanstead, ‘by lawful conveyance’, should also pass to Essex.1 This latter transaction was something that the Queen actively encouraged, for she was fond of Wanstead, and eager to return there as Essex’s guest.
Lettice’s children now took centre stage at Essex House, where the Earl hosted a great variety of regular entertainments. Penelope had a chamber there, preferring to reside there than at her husband’s Smithfield residence at St Bartholomew’s while she was in the capital, and it was at Essex House that much of her relationship with Charles Blount was conducted. She was a regular visitor, and held more eminence than Essex’s own wife. Lettice also visited her children and grandchildren at Essex House, but she was no longer a permanent presence, and was more than content for her son and eldest daughter to bask in the limelight.
IN FEBRUARY 1594, Sir Thomas Perrot, Dorothy’s husband, died. Two years earlier, his father, Sir John Perrot, had died in the Tower having been condemned for treason – it was rumoured that he had been poisoned.2 Despite his attainder, with the support of Essex an Act of Parliament had restored the majority of his father’s lands to Thomas in March 1593. He was sadly not to enjoy them for long. More than ten years of marriage had produced just one surviving child, a daughter named Penelope.3 As such, when Thomas died his lands were divided between his wife and daughter.4
Thomas’s death came as a blow to Dorothy, who, like her mother, was still in disgrace with the Queen. Nevertheless, it was not long before she had found herself a replacement. Later that same year, thirty-year-old Dorothy married for a second time – a marriage that may have been arranged by her brother. Her groom was Henry Percy, who had succeeded his father as the ninth Earl of Northumberland in 1585. The Percy family were an ancient and noble family, but Henry’s father had died in the Tower under a cloud of suspicion, after allegedly having become embroiled in the treasonable dealings surrounding Mary, Queen of Scots. The scandal did not end there, for six months after his imprisonment, the eighth Earl was found dead in his bed – he had been shot through the heart. A verdict of suicide was delivered – considered to be a mortal sin – and the Percy family were left to deal with the aftermath.5 The family were great landowners, particularly in the north of England, though their primary residence was Petworth in Sussex, and later Syon where Dorothy and her children would spend a great deal of their time.6 By 1594, the scandal surrounding the suspicious death of the eighth Earl had died down, and so when Dorothy married Henry Percy, who was the same age as her, Lettice heartily approved of the match. Northumberland provided all of the prestige that Lord Rich, the husband of her eldest daughter, lacked.
The wedding took place in London, and at Essex House, Essex hosted and paid for the entertainments, including a performance from a company of players.7 Lettice was almost certainly present at her younger daughter’s wedding, but the Queen was not: Dorothy, the new Countess of Northumberland, remained banished. Though relations between the two women were never fully restored, at some point Dorothy was received back to court, but the timing of this is unclear. Her marriage, on the other hand, was destined to be rocky.
Dorothy and her husband often quarrelled furiously, to the point that she left him in October 1599. Telling those around her that her husband had thrown her out, Dorothy began to rent a house in Putney, and for some time they remained estranged.8 Like her mother, Dorothy was headstrong, and was determined to assert herself as a strong woman in her own right. Even her brother wrote of her ‘passions’. It was left to him to try and resolve the situation, and he duly did his best. ‘Since I knew of the breach betwixt your husband and you, my first desire was that you might be both thoroughly reconciled; and my second if the first might not be, that it might appear to the world it was his fault and not yours’, he wrote to her, and he even drafted a letter to Northumberland on his sister’s behalf: ‘I will believe that your honour, wisdom, and discretion, will hold you from wronging both yourself and me, and then I will promise myself a more happy life and prove my love and desert both to you and the world, which doth constantly bind me to be, your faithful wife.’9 This played a part in reconciling the couple, and in December 1601 they were reunited. In spite of whatever problems they had encountered, the rest of their marriage proved to be happy and was solidified by the births of two sons: Algernon and Henry.
ELSEWHERE THE CIRCLE surrounding Essex was growing, and among his close friends were Henry Wriothesley, third Earl of Southampton.10 Southampton idolized Essex, but in years to come their friendship would lead him into troubled waters. Both men were great patrons of the arts, and poets and playwrights gathered around them. Shakespeare’s Love’s Labour’s Lost, written in around 1594, contains many allusions to people and events that were contemporary, and probably relates to many of those who were included in Essex’s circle.11 Essex’s political influence was also growing, and he had been admitted to the Privy Council on 25 February 1593. Although Lord Burghley remained the Queen’s primary advisor, he was now in his seventies, plagued with gout and desperate to retire, and the twenty-seven-year-old Essex was hopeful that when the time came he would be able to take his place. Unlike his former stepfather the Earl of Leicester, Essex had always been exceedingly popular, but he did not have the same kind of relationship with the Queen that Leicester had once shared. Neither did he have the same humility, and though Elizabeth was fond of Essex, she quickly tired of his moods.
In the countryside, Blount was occupying himself with the management of his wife’s affairs. Both he and Lettice wrote frequently to Essex, often concerning business. On one such occasion, however, Blount added a postscript on behalf of his wife: ‘Your Lordship’s mother greets you, and craves her excuse in accompanying your sisters.’12 Lettice seized upon any opportunity to communicate with her son, and it is from this period of her life that the largest number of her letters survives. Twenty are addressed to her son, who she often referred to as ‘My dear son’, ‘My dear and most noble child’, or ‘Sweet Robin’.13 It is interesting to note that the latter was one of the same fond terms that the Queen had once used to address Leicester. The nature of Lettice’s letters varied, and she did on occasion take the opportunity to ask for favours for herself and her friends. For example, she begged for her son to find a place for a servant of hers, named Gawdy, who was ‘so honest and so thankful a man’.14 Unfor
tunately for Gawdy, Essex chose not to employ him.
At Drayton Bassett Lettice was often visited by Penelope, who usually brought her children with her. It seems likely that Dorothy also travelled to see her mother, and the three women had remained close. In September 1595, for example, Penelope had been staying with Lettice, and when she returned to London her mother travelled with her. On 7 November, Rowland White, the agent of Sir Robert Sidney, wrote to his master that ‘Lady Leicester and Lady Rich are yesterday come to London’, where they presumably stayed at Essex House.15 Penelope rarely stayed at her husband’s London home, viewing her brother’s house and the company of her family as infinitely preferable. Neither does Lettice appear to have put any pressure on her to reconcile with Lord Rich; indeed, she had great sympathy with her daughter’s marital woes.
Upon her return to the capital, Penelope had expressed an interest in purchasing some hangings from Sir Robert Sidney, ‘a piece or two of the story of Cyrus’.16 On 13 November, Rowland White was able to report that ‘Lady Rich likes the piece of hanging’, although ‘Lady Leicester thought the price high, but wishes you had sent her friend Sir Christopher some.’17 Lettice was clearly thrifty with money and liked a bargain, for three days later White noted that ‘Lady Leicester said that if it be above ten shillings [£62] the stick it is too dear. I answered that it seemed hangings were good cheap when she bought any.’18 In any case, Penelope liked the hangings and chose to buy them.
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