Elizabeth's Women

by Tracy Borman

  Less than two weeks after faithfully promising to learn the ways of the Catholic faith, Elizabeth was failing to attend Mass once more. The Queen noted with disgust “that she has half-turned already from the good road upon which she had begun to travel.” She now openly declared her distrust for her half sister and demanded to know “if she firmly believed what the catholics now believed,” telling her plainly that she suspected her of hypocrisy. Elizabeth put on another show of humility, appearing “timid” and “trembling” as she assured the Queen that she acted out of conscience, not policy. Renard dismissed this as pretense, remarking: “we interpreted her answer and trembling rather differently.”41

  Elizabeth found a welcome supporter in Anne of Cleves. Although the coronation had given Anne cause to hope that her status would be enhanced under Mary, it soon became clear that her religious views set her at odds with the new regime. Anne’s position was compromised by the renewed Anglo-Imperial alliance, for she had first been brought to England as part of a coalition against the emperor, Charles V. Soon there were rumors that she was conspiring with Elizabeth against the Queen. Simon Renard, the Imperial ambassador, claimed that Anne had approved of plots to prevent Mary’s marriage to Philip II and that she was conspiring with her brother, the Duke of Cleves, to further the dynastic ambitions of Elizabeth. Such rumors were extremely unlikely to be true, given Anne’s sensible pragmatism, but they were nevertheless damaging to both women at a time of intense suspicion and uncertainty. Mary evidently remembered enough of her former affection for Anne of Cleves not to act against her, however, and she remained at court for the time being. Elizabeth was glad of this, for she found Anne a much-needed ally as she came under increasing pressure to conform to Roman Catholicism. It was noted that both women failed to attend any Masses at court, even though there were six or seven every day. “My Ladies of Cleves and Elizabeth have not been present yet,” the Spanish ambassador observed disapprovingly.42

  For all her skill as an actress, Elizabeth could not conceal her distaste for the Catholic religion from Mary, whose resentment against her now reached fever pitch. The Queen told Renard that she heartily wished to remove her half sister from the succession “because of her heretical opinions, illegitimacy and characteristics in which she resembled her mother,” adding that “as her mother had caused great trouble in the kingdom, the Queen feared that Elizabeth might do the same.”43 For all her defiance on religion, it is unlikely that Elizabeth was so foolhardy as to plot against her half sister. But the fact that people suspected her of doing so was enough to place her in grave danger. Meanwhile, tension at court was mounting. In late November, when the Queen was on her way to chapel, there was a cry of “Treason!” When Elizabeth heard this, she was gripped with terror, suspecting that the cry was against her. One of Mary’s own ladies was obliged to comfort her and rub her stomach until she calmed down.44

  By now, it was clear that the situation could not continue. Elizabeth begged Mary to let her leave court and take up residence at her country estate of Ashridge in Hertfordshire, well away from the plots and intrigues that were beginning to surround her. This threw Mary into a quandary. While at heart she wanted nothing more than to be rid of her half sister’s irksome presence, she also considered the old adage of keeping one’s enemies close and did not know if she could risk Elizabeth being at a distance from which she could more easily plot against her. As was increasingly her policy, she went to seek Renard’s advice. He immediately cautioned that Elizabeth’s request was “suspect,” arguing that “as it was known that the heretics were building upon her, it would be better to keep her here.” He concluded that the Queen had only two choices: either to keep her half sister at court and maintain a show of harmony, or to “shut her up in the Tower.” This latter course was too drastic for Mary, but the first was little more appealing. At length, therefore, she assented to Elizabeth’s request to leave court.

  Eager though she was to get away, Elizabeth was also anxious that her enemies would use her absence to turn the Queen against her once and for all. She therefore petitioned Mary not to believe any “evil reports” of her until she had first given her a chance “of proving the false and malicious nature of such slanders.” Mary duly promised to give her a fair hearing, but at heart she was still consumed by resentment against her younger sister, and “recalls the trouble and unpleasantness before and since her accession, unrest and disagreeable occurrences to which Elizabeth has given rise.” Nevertheless, when the two sisters took their leave of each other, they gave one last show of affection. Elizabeth was “very courteous” toward the Queen, who “dissembled well” herself and gave her younger sister a rich hood of sable, which was a thoughtful gift given that she was about to embark upon a long journey in the cold December air.45 But Renard noted afterward that it had taken a great effort on Mary’s part to appear so civil. As Elizabeth’s entourage set off on the thirty-mile journey to Ashridge, the Queen was heartily glad to see the back of her.

  Elizabeth was no doubt equally relieved to be away from court, but it was by no means a complete escape, for Mary had insured that she would remain under close scrutiny at Ashridge. Her cousin, Charles V, had urged her to take this precaution, and he ordered his ambassador, Renard, to “now and then remind the Queen to have the Lady Elizabeth watched.” Mary needed no reminder. Even though her half sister reiterated her loyalty and affection toward her upon reaching Ashridge, Mary refused to be won over by fair words, and dispatched some trusted men “to watch what takes place in her house.”46

  They found little cause for suspicion. Having been greatly alarmed by the Queen’s displeasure toward her, Elizabeth was careful to avoid any cause for further complaint. And yet her very position made her the natural focus for plots and conspiracies against the regime. Although outwardly loyal to her half sister, she represented everything that Mary was not. She was Protestant at a time when Mary’s increasingly severe religious policies were turning people against the Catholic faith. She was also entirely English, while her half-Spanish sister had caused fierce resentment by marrying a foreign prince. One pamphleteer described Elizabeth as “a prince of no mingled blood, of Spaniard or stranger, but born mere English here amongst us.”47 It was one of her greatest strengths, and she knew it. In the years to come, she would repeat the proud boast that she was “meer English,” and use this to bolster not just her own popularity but a sense of national pride.

  Within months of Mary’s ascending the throne, there was already widespread opposition to her administration. This went right to the heart of government. In January 1554, a group of MPs (members of Parliament) plotted to prevent the Queen’s marriage by coordinating four separate risings in Kent, Hereford, Devon, and Leicestershire. This plot was soon discovered by Mary’s council, and the conspirators in three of the counties rapidly dispersed. The atmosphere at court was growing increasingly tense, however, and the Queen’s closest advisers urged her to rid herself of any rival claimants. Elizabeth aside, the principal threat seemed to be Lady Jane Grey, who was still imprisoned in the Tower following her father’s abortive attempt to thrust her onto the throne. Even though Lady Jane had been a most unwilling pawn in his political power games, she remained a dangerous figurehead for opposition to the regime. Under pressure from her council, Mary therefore reluctantly ordered her execution and that of Guilford Dudley in February 1554.

  This sent a stark warning to Elizabeth, whose sorrow for her former companion at Chelsea mingled with fear for her own life now that she was the main figurehead for opposition. A plot to place her on the throne was already gathering ground in Kent. Its leader was Sir Thomas Wyatt, who in January 1554 raised a considerable band of men (one report said as many as three thousand) and marched toward London.48

  The threat from Wyatt became serious when the band of trained soldiers led by the Duke of Norfolk, who had been ordered to head off the rebels before they reached the capital, suddenly deserted. This left Mary and her council virtually undefended
. She bravely refused to flee, however, and instead placed her trust in the citizens of London. For the first time, she displayed the decisive, authoritative behavior that might be expected of a daughter of Henry VIII. Rallying the loyal troops that had gathered at the Guildhall in the heart of London, she delivered the greatest speech of her reign. “I cannot tell how naturally the mother loveth the child, for I was never mother of any,” she began. “But certainly, if a prince and governor may as naturally and earnestly love her subjects, as the mother doth the child, then assure yourselves, that I being your lady and mistress, do as earnestly and tenderly love and favour you.”49 For this one fleeting occasion, Mary seemed entirely at ease as a female sovereign, allowing her sex to lend her a maternal role over her subjects, while also displaying the majesty and leadership to inspire respect and awe among everyone who heard her. Perhaps Elizabeth learned of her sister’s speech, for she herself would draw upon the same theme of motherhood when addressing her people as queen, and it would become one of her most effective ways of insuring their loyalty.

  Mary’s address was a decisive factor in defeating the rebellion. But for Elizabeth, the danger was only just beginning. Even though she was almost certainly innocent of any involvement in the plot, Wyatt claimed that he had written to her to tell her of his plans. This was supported by a fellow conspirator, who alleged that he had delivered the letter himself. Their testimonies gave Elizabeth’s enemies at court enough ammunition to do away with her for good. For months they had tried to persuade the Queen to throw her half sister into the Tower and find an excuse to condemn her as a traitor. Now they had the perfect justification. “I will do all I can to obtain that result,” Renard assured his master.50 Until now, Mary’s conscience had not allowed her to agree to their requests, but even she appreciated that Elizabeth could no longer be kept at liberty. She therefore wrote to summon her to court. Her letter was, on the surface, full of cordiality. Referring to Elizabeth as her “Right dearly and entirely beloved sister,” she invited her to come to court for “the surety of your person.”51 Meanwhile, she dispatched some of her councillors to accompany her half sister back to London.

  As Elizabeth waited anxiously at Ashridge, the stress of the situation became too much, and she collapsed with nervous exhaustion. Throughout her life, Elizabeth would suffer from attacks of sickness at times of extreme stress, and this was undoubtedly the most stressful situation that she had faced since her interrogation over the Seymour affair some five years before. Kat Astley was frantic with worry and tended her at her bedside throughout the desperate hours and days of her beloved girl’s illness. Then, late into the night of February 10, the delegation of officials arrived from court, charged with arresting the Lady Elizabeth and bringing her to London for questioning. Legend has it that they burst into her bedchamber, brushing aside Mistress Astley, who begged them to show mercy to the sick girl. But they were resolute in carrying out their orders and conveyed a weak, protesting Elizabeth away from the safety of Ashridge.

  Attended by a handful of her most trusted ladies, among them Kat Astley and Blanche Parry, Elizabeth and her entourage made their way slowly to the capital. On arrival, she was installed at Whitehall Palace in cramped apartments and told to wait there until the Queen saw fit to have her incarcerated in the Tower. Sick with worry, Elizabeth endured long days holed up in her rooms with no news from the court. Her discomfort was heightened by the noise and smells that were constantly emitted from the chamber above. This belonged to Margaret Douglas, Countess of Lennox, the woman whom Mary looked set to name as heir. Margaret had no liking for Elizabeth and resolved to emphasize her own superiority. She gave orders that her apartment be converted into a kitchen so that her young cousin would be plagued by the commotion attendant upon the preparation of her meals. The countess would live to regret this petty act of triumph.

  When the councillors whom Mary had appointed to convey her half sister to the Tower arrived at Whitehall, Elizabeth succeeded in delaying them by insisting that she first be allowed to write to the Queen. The longer she wrote, the less time they had to catch the tide, and she knew it. By the time she had finished the letter (thereafter known as the “tide letter”), they had missed it. Elizabeth had won only a temporary reprieve, but the words she wrote to her sister may have won her a good deal more.

  “If ever I did try this old saying, that a king’s word was more than another man’s oath, I beseech your majesty to verify it in me, and to remember your last promise and my last demand that I be not condemned without answer and proof; which it seems now I am,” she began. “For without cause proved I am by your council from you commanded to go to the Tower. I know I deserved it not, yet it appears proved. I protest before God I never practised, counselled or consented to anything prejudicial to you or dangerous to the state.” Convinced that if she were allowed to see her half sister, she would be able to persuade her of her innocence (as she had over the matter of religion), Elizabeth begged an audience. “Pardon my boldness. I have heard of many cast away for want of coming to their prince,” she assured the Queen. “I pray God as [that] evil persuasions persuade not one sister against the other.” Because she had finished the letter at the top of the second page, she carefully scored lines across the rest of it so that none of these “evil persons” could add defamatory words afterward.52

  The tide letter was to be one of the most famous that Elizabeth would write. It is a testament to her great presence of mind that, sick with panic and fearing for her very life, she was able to write such an eloquent, well-reasoned defense of her actions. There is no record of the effect it had upon her sister, who chose not to reply. Neither did she accede to Elizabeth’s request for an audience. Instead she dispatched her to the Tower without delay, along with Kat Astley and Blanche Parry. For Elizabeth, this was her worst nightmare. She now faced the same fate that her mother had met some eighteen years before. As she mounted the steps to the fortress, she looked up to the heavens and exclaimed: “Ohe Lorde! I never thought to have come in here as a prisoner; and I praie you all, goode frendes and fellowes, bere me wytnes, that I come yn no traytour, but as true woman to the quenes majesty as eny is nowe lyving.”53

  A group of interrogators was sent to question the new prisoner closely about her alleged involvement in the conspiracy, and it was noted that “her fate should depend on her answers.”54 Although still very sick and terrified, Elizabeth defended herself as stoically as her mother had done when faced with accusations of treason. Again and again she proclaimed her innocence, insisting that she was the Queen’s loyal subject. When this was reported to Mary, she dismissed it, saying that “Elizabeth’s character was just what she had always believed it to be.”55 By now, Elizabeth was frantic with worry. Her mother had once said of Mary: “She is my death, or I am hers.” Elizabeth could have said the same. The relationship between the two sisters, so opposite in character, appearance, and outlook, was little short of a battleground. Elizabeth was so convinced that she was going to die that she even contemplated asking if she could be executed with a sword rather than an axe, as her mother had been, because she had heard that it was quicker.

  A few days later, it seemed that Elizabeth’s worst fears would be realized. The lieutenant of the Tower, Master Bridges, received a warrant for her execution. Thankfully, despite her openly voiced hostility toward her half sister, he had the presence of mind to doubt the warrant’s validity and went with all haste to the Queen. She immediately denied that she had issued it, and when it was discovered that it had been the work of her lord chancellor, Gardiner, and his party, she railed against them “for their inhuman usage of her sister.”56 Perhaps she was mindful of public opinion, which was firmly in favor of Elizabeth. Or perhaps, despite all the hostilities and resentments, the bond between the two sisters was stronger than it appeared. Even while Elizabeth was still a prisoner in the Tower, Mary started to refer to her as “my sister” again and ordered that her portrait be reinstalled in its former position in the ro
yal gallery.

  It soon became clear that Mary would not sanction Elizabeth’s execution—at least not unless some definitive proof of her involvement in Wyatt’s rebellion came to light. So, as Renard neatly put it: “The question of the day is: what shall be done with her?”57 Two months after her imprisonment in the Tower, Elizabeth was released—ironically, on the very same day that her mother had been executed. But she was not set at liberty: instead she was conveyed to the gloomy palace of Woodstock in Oxfordshire to be kept there under house arrest. Most of her old servants were replaced by those appointed by the council. This included Kat, who, like Elizabeth, had been released from the Tower but immediately placed in custody. Only Blanche Parry was permitted to remain with Elizabeth, who appointed her chief gentlewoman later that year in recognition of her loyalty.

  As Elizabeth made her way through the city, accompanied by a considerable armed guard of some four hundred men, the people cheered when they saw her, assuming that she had been set at liberty. A group of merchants “shot off three cannons as a sign of joy,” much to the disapproval of the Queen when she heard of it.

  Although she could rejoice at having narrowly escaped her mother’s fate, Elizabeth had been deeply affected by the whole episode. She would remember it for years to come, and it would have a profound impact upon her own development as a ruler. Years later, she would recall: “I stode in dangere of my lyffe, my systere was so ensenst [incensed] ageynst me.”58 The experience had taught her two valuable lessons: first, the need to strenuously safeguard her reputation, and, second, the strength of her own ability to talk—and write—her way out of danger. The Seymour episode had given her a taste of the latter. Now the Wyatt conspiracy fostered within her a new sense of confidence that would grow ever greater as Mary’s reign progressed, equipping her for the task of one day taking the throne herself.