Life of Elizabeth I

by Alison Weir

  Displaying some irritation, the Queen told the delegation that she had made allowances for the Commons, where she had observed 'restless heads in whose brains the needless hammers beat with vain judgement', but she expected the Lords to know better than to press her on such weighty matters. It was not impossible that she would marry: 'The marks they saw on her face were not wrinkles, but the pits of smallpox, and although she might be old, God could send her children as He did to St Elisabeth, and they had better consider well what they were asking, as, if she declared a successor, it would cost much blood to England.'

  Initially, both Lords and Commons were too impressed by her graciousness and her powers of oratory to realise that Elizabeth had stalled again; they really believed that she would now take steps to resolve the matters of her marriage and the succession, when in fact she had promised nothing at all. Consequently, Parliament refrained from debating the succession, although by 12 February, the Commons were getting restive, and sent the Queen a humble reminder that they were waiting for an answer. But Elizabeth was biding her time until Parliament had voted the subsidy she wanted.

  Parliament had by then proceeded to its other business, that of passing legislation to protect the Anglican Settlement of 1559. These Acts extended the Oath of Supremacy required from all in public life, and imposed penalties upon those who upheld the authority of the Pope and those who opposed the Church of England. In February, Convocation approved the restoration of the Thirty-Nine Articles of Henry VIII (in place of the Forty-Two Articles of Edward VI) in which were enshrined the Church's basic doctrines: these were finally approved by Parliamentin 1571.

  When, on 10 April, Parliament assembled for its closing ceremonies, the Queen, who had been voted her subsidy, attended and gave to the Lord Keeper, Sir Nicholas Bacon, a handwritten answer, composed by herself, to the petitions of the two Houses. Fuming over her subjects' temerity, she had written two earlier drafts which referred to the 'two huge scrolls' they had given her, but had amended this as her irritation subsided. In the final version she wrote:

  If any here doubt that I am, as it were by vow or determination, bent never to trade that way of life [i.e. spinsterhood], let them put out that kind of heresy for your belief therein is awry. For though I can think it best for a private woman, yet do I strive with myself to think it not meet for a prince. And if I can bend my liking to your need, I will not resist such a mind. I hope I shall die in quiet with 'Nunc dimittis', which cannot be without I see some glimpses of your following surety after my graved bones.

  And that was that. Parliament was prorogued with what Elizabeth herself described as an 'answer answerless', a most unsatisfactory response to its carefully-drafted petitions.

  By rejecting the claim of Mary Stuart to be Elizabeth's successor, the Lords were by implication endorsing that of Lady Katherine Grey, whom many supported. Lady Katherine and Lord Hertfoid had remained in the Tower since August 1561, but they had not been ill treated. Katherine's apartment was hung with rich curtains and tapestries, and she was permitted such comforts as a Turkey carpet and a line tester bed with a feather mattress. Delicacies were brought in for her table, and she was allowed to keep her pet dogs with her. All this had been arranged with the full knowledge and approval of the Queen, but what the Queen did not know was that Katherine's gaolers, feeling some sympathy for Katherine and her husband, had allowed the young couple to meet regularly and even share the feather mattress at night.

  By the autumn of 1562 Katherine was pregnant again, and in the first week of February 1563, she gave birth to her second son, Thomas. This could not be concealed from Elizabeth, whose fury knew no bounds, and she gave orders that under no circumstances were Katherine and Lord Hertford to meet again. They never did, and Katherine spent the best part of the rest of her life weeping for her lost love.

  Hertford was hauled before the Court of Star Chamber, where he was found guilty of having compounded his original offence of having 'deflowered a virgin of the blood royal in the Queen's house' by having 'ravished her a second time'. He was fined - 15,000, later commuted to .3000. As for Sir Edward Warner, the kindly Lieutenant of the Tower who had allowed the couple conjugal visits, he was dismissed from his post.

  In the summer, when there were cases of plague within the Tower, the Queen sent both young people, heavily guarded, into the country, there to be kept separately under house arrest. There was no question now of Elizabeth acknowledging Katherine Grey as heiress to the throne, but later that year talk of a secret conspiracy to have her two sons legitimised prompted the Queen to bring her cousin back to the Tower, lest she become a focus for rebellion. As a near relative in blood, with two sons, she represented a very dangerous threat to Elizabeth's security. Thereafter she remained in the Tower, being allowed to leave it only for short visits under guard to the Lieutenant's house in Suffolk, Cockfield Hall. Hertford's piteous requests to visit her there met with firm refusals.

  Lady Katherine Grey died of tuberculosis in 1568 at Cockfield Hall. The Queen paid for a ceremonial funeral in Salisbury Cathedral. Although she never forgave Katherine for her secret marriage, she no longer nourished animosity towards Lord Hertford, who was released from the Tower. He married twice more and lived to be an old man. As for his sons by Katherine, they were placed in the care of Cecil, who brought them up for a time with his own children.

  In February 1563, scandal had also touched Mary Stuart, who, since her return to Scotland, had cherished a nostalgia for the court of France and employed as her secretary a young French courtier called Pierre de Chastelard. Unwisely, Mary showed special favour to this gallant, but he soon grew too ardent in his behaviour towards his mistress, and could have seriously compromised her honour when he was discovered hiding under her bed by Scots lords who were jealous of his influence. They arrested him, and on 22 February had him executed.

  After Queen Elizabeth had recovered from smallpox, Warwick's force had gone to France, where they had occupied Newhaven, but in March 1563 the capture of the Huguenot leaders and the murder of the Duke of Guise enabled Catherine de' Medici to bring the religious conflict to an end. The English troops were therefore technically redundant, but Elizabeth had invested her money in them in order to secure the return of Calais, and insisted that they remain in France to achieve this aim. However, with the country at peace, both Catholics and Protestants now united against the English invaders and laid siege to Newhaven. A terrible epidemic of plague swept through the English ranks and decimated their numbers. As the months went by, and the siege continued, it seemed increasingly likely that Calais was irretrievably lost.

  During this time, Queen Mary consistently supported her 'dear sister, so tender a cousin and friend', having resisted all attempts by the Guise faction to draw her over to their side. On 2 November, Mary wrote to Elizabeth to express her relief that her cousin had recovered from her illness and that 'your beautiful face will lose none of its perfections'. Mary was still enthusiastic about meeting Elizabeth, and even more anxious to persuade her cousin to declare her her successor. Elizabeth wrote Mary affectionate letters of condolence on the death of the Duke of Guise, and after Parliament had been prorogued in April, she ordered the imprisonment of John Hales, a lawyer who wrote and circulated a pamphlet deriding Mary's claim to the throne and supporting that of Lady Katherine Grey. The Queen also temporarily banished his patron, Sir Nicholas Bacon, from court.

  Maitland was still pressing for Mary to be acknowledged as heiress presumptive, but the problem of the succession was a complex one, as Elizabeth knew well. The succession was not a thing she could bestow as a gift, it was a right under the law, and there was, as we have seen, much dispute over whose claim was the strongest. For Parliament to accept Mary, Queen of Scots as Elizabeth's heir, Mary would have to demonstrate that she had English interests at heart, and her marriage plans so far had done little to reinforce this conviction. Elizabeth complained to Cecil that she was 'in such a labyrinth' with regard to the problem of Mary and the s
uccession that she had no idea what course to follow, yet Cecil could not offer much comfort. Elizabeth knew he distrusted Mary because of her Catholicism, but he had also told her that if she excluded her cousin from the succession, the result would probably be war. Cecil's unwelcome advice was that Elizabeth should marry as soon as possible.

  Unaware of his sadistic tendencies, Mary was still pursuing negotiations for a marriage to Don Carlos, which was seen in England as being directly opposed to English interests. Elizabeth's chief desire was to see Mary married to a loyal Englishman, and it was around this time that she first conceived the idea of proposing Robert Dudley as a husband for the Scots Queen. It seems that, initially, this was her way of paying him back for inciting Parliament to press her into marriage. Gradually she grew to like the idea and began to pursue it seriously.

  It was not such a preposterous notion as it seemed. Dudley was the one man who could be trusted to promote England's welfare north of the Border; indebted to Elizabeth for his meteoric rise to power and an almost princely status, he would not be likely to forget the woman for whom he felt a genuine affection, if not love. Dudley was hungry for a crown and had a penchant for attractive redheads; by marrying him, Mary would remove herself from the European marriage market, and the threat of foreign interference in Scotland would recede. England and Scotland would draw closer together in friendship. As a Protestant, Dudley would be acceptable to the Calvinist lords and would hold the Scots Catholics in check. The drawback, of course, was that Elizabeth would have to give him up, but it seems that she had already decided to embrace celibacy, and, hard as renouncing him would be, she convinced herself she could do so if she knew that it was to her and England's advantage. Moreover, royal marriage negotiations took so long that their parting might be months, if not years, away.

  Few people shared her view of the situation. Only Cecil, who perceived what good could result from the match and who, for reasons of his own, wanted Dudley out of the way, supported the plan. When, in the spring of 1563, Elizabeth first broached the matter to Maitland, quite suddenly in a private audience, saying that she was prepared to offer his Queen a husband 'in whom nature had implanted so many graces that, if she wished to marry, she would prefer him to all the princes in the 'world', an embarrassed Maitland guessed whom she was referring to and tried to pass the whole thing off as some royal joke. When, however, he saw that Elizabeth meant what she said, he stuttered 'that this was a great proof of the love she bore his Queen, that she was willing to give her a thing so dearly prized by herself, but he felt certain his sovereign would not wish to deprive her cousin of 'all the joy and solace she received from his company'. Elizabeth was not to be put off. It was unfortunate, she said, that the Earl of Warwick was not as handsome as his younger brother, for had this been so Queen Mary could have married Ambrose while she herself became the wife of Dudley. Maitland rejoined that Her Majesty ought to marry him anyway, 'and then when it should please God to call her to Himself, she could leave the Queen of Scots heiress to both her kingdom and her husband; that way, Lord Robert could hardly fail to have children by one or other of them'.

  Cecil also praised Dudley to the skies, writing to Maitland that he was 'a nobleman of birth, void of all evil conditions that sometimes are heritable to princes, and in goodness of nature and richness of good gifts comparable to any prince born and, so it may be said with due reverence and without offence to princes, much better than a great sort now living. He is also dearly and singularly esteemed [Cecil had written "beloved" here, but crossed it out] of the Queen's Majesty, so as she can think no good turn or fortune greater than may be well bestowed upon him.' In Maitland's private opinion, the Queen's plan to foist her discarded lover - a commoner - upon Mary Stuart was little short of insulting, especially in view of his reputation as a former traitor and suspected wife murderer, and when the ambassador returned to Scotland he said nothing of Elizabeth's suggestion to Mary. But he had informed de Quadra of it, de Quadra informed King Philip, and before long the news had spread rapidly to Scotland and France. Everywhere it met with derision, and few believed that Elizabeth was serious.

  Elizabeth was determinedly set on her course, and having made this resolution, she could afford to be generous to Lady Lennox. She ordered her release in the spring of 1563, making it conditional upon a promise that Lady Lennox would never again scheme to marry her son to the Queen of Scots. Furthermore, in June Elizabeth wrote to Queen Mary asking that an old attainder on the Earl of Lennox be reversed, so that he could return to his estates in Scotland.

  Dudley was still riding the crest of success. In June, Elizabeth bestowed upon him Kenilworth Castle in Warwickshire, a huge medieval fortress that had been converted by John of Gaunt in the fourteenth century into a luxurious palace. Northumberland had briefly owned it, and Dudley had had his eye on it for some years. Now he would have a country seat of his own, just five miles south of Warwick Castle, the residence of his older brother Ambrose, and he wasted no time in drawing up elaborate plans for its improvement and renovation in order to make it a fit place to entertain the Queen. It would be ten years before Kenilworth was ready to receive her, and then it would be the most magnificent of all Elizabethan mansions.

  Dudley enjoyed a standard of luxury tasted by few, yet he was still living beyond his means. His pride demanded that he make it known how munificently the Queen had enriched him, which led to him being besieged by those who craved his patronage. As a result of this the number of his clients and those beholden to him increased, affording him a substantial following. Sensitive about his lack of popularity and disinterested supporters, he was usually quick to revenge himself on those of his followers who failed to reciprocate his kindness, but steadfast and generous to those whose loyalty was genuine.

  Ambrose Dudley, Earl of Warwick was still in Newhaven, trying to cope on insufficient funds with a plague-ridden army whose numbers were dwindling at an alarming rate. In July, Elizabeth agreed that he had no choice but to surrender Newhaven to the French, but during negotiations he was shot in the leg by an enemy musket. At the end of the month, having withdrawn from France with as much honour as he could salvage, Warwick returned home, but his leg would never fully heal, and he walked with a stick for the rest of his life. Lord Robert went down to Portsmouth to welcome his brother but the Queen sent a messenger after him to warn him that he was in danger of catching the plague from the returning troops. Dudley defied her, having found Ambrose in bed in some pain, and an angry Elizabeth commanded him to stay put in case he brought the contagion back to court.

  Elizabeth was in no very good mood just then: she was furious with the French and humiliated over the loss of Newhaven. It seemed that Calais would never be recovered, and to make matters worse there was grumbling in England against the incompetence of women rulers. De Quadra reported that he had heard people blame the Queen for what had happened and say, 'God help England and send it a king.'

  As Elizabeth feared, the returning soldiers had brought the plague to England. For the rest of the summer, it raged unchecked, claiming, in London alone, three thousand souls each week, and in the suburbs around the capital twenty thousand altogether. One of those who succumbed was Bishop de Quadra, who died in August, having been a source of trouble to Elizabeth to the last. His mischievous reports had done much to weaken the friendship between England and Spain.

  That month, Elizabeth sent Thomas Randolph back to Scotland, with instructions to persuade Mary to allow Elizabeth to choose her a husband. He was to say that if Mary consented 'to content us and this our nation in her marriage', Elizabeth would be as a mother to her and would 'proceed to the inquisition of her right and title to be our next heir, and to further that which shall appear advantageous to her'. The only clue as to whom the chosen husband might be lay in the reference to 'some person of noble birth within our realm, yea, perchance such as she would hardly think we could agree unto'.

  Mary, however, did not understand what was implied, and begged for c
larification. Who, among the English aristocracy, would her 'good sister' regard as suitable? Randolph, who knew of Elizabeth's intentions, was praying he would not have to tell her, opining to Cecil that it was asking too much of her 'noble stomach' to debase her 'so low as to many in place inferior to herself. Fortunately for him, Elizabeth was still playing for time and, in the interests of retaining Mary's interest and preventing her from pursuing other marriage plans, kept her guessing for the next few months. Thus when Randolph went home, Mary was none the wiser.

  In the autumn of 1563, Don Carlos fell seriously ill, and this appeared to signal the end of Mary Stuart's hopes of a Spanish marriage. Finding the right husband was, for the Scots Queen, a priority, not only for political and dynastic reasons - she, like Elizabeth, had no heir of her body - but also because she was unsuited to the single life. Thomas Randolph attributed her bouts of depression and crying to emotional frustration and unsatisfied desire.

  Don Carlos's illness was more than convenient for Elizabeth, who had done everything she could behind the scenes to delay Mary from marrying until a safe husband could be found for her.

  It was at this time that Elizabeth, mindful of her promise to Parliament, attempted to revive negotiations for her own marriage to the Archduke Charles. This appeared at first to be a forlorn hope, because, despite being reminded of the advantages of an alliance with 'such a Helen, accompanied by such a dowry and so much dignity', the Emperor was justifiably suspicious of Elizabeth's motives and would not have forgotten that she had formerly rejected his son. There was also the persistent gossip about Dudley. He now had apartments next to the Queen's in all the royal palaces; he was the host at most courtly entertainments; he kept state like a prince, and enjoyed vast power and influence.

  In spite of these obstacles, Elizabeth expected the Archduke to make the first move towards reviving his courtship - it was unthinkable that she, a woman, should take the initiative. Cecil therefore wrote to one of his agents in Germany, who in turn approached the Duke of Wurttemberg, who in his turn sent a letter to the Emperor. Ferdinand consented to the reopening of negotiations, but proceeded with caution, as did Cecil, who made it clear that the Archduke must take matters slowly, since the Queen was much inclined to celibacy. She had acknowledged that the Archduke was the best foreign match for her, but she waxed alternately hot and cold over the matter.