by Derek Wilson
. . . I willed Ellis to speak with you and Mr Spinola again for that I perceive that he hath word from Flanders that I cannot have such hangings thence as I looked for for my dining chamber at Kenilworth. Yet, he thought there would very good be had at this present in London and as good cheap as in Flanders . . . deal with Mr Spinola hereabout for [he] is able to get such stuff better cheap than any man and I am sure he will do his best for me.12
Dudley spent a massive £60,000 on new building and refurbishment at Kenilworth but the splendours of Burghley House, Longleat and Hardwick Hall swallowed up greater fortunes and, a generation later, Thomas Howard would expend £200,000 on Audley End.
The queen’s close encounter with death had badly shaken the establishment and had made the succession issue yet more urgent. Edward VI, like his father, had discounted the Stuart line, descended from Margaret Tudor. Since then the choice of possible non-Catholic heirs had narrowed and Mary, Queen of Scots was noisily trumpeting her claim to be the senior heir to the English throne. Many politicians were now ready to set aside their squabbles about whom the queen should marry. The House of Lords bluntly petitioned ‘that it would please your Majesty to dispose yourself to marry, where it shall please you, to whom it shall please you, and as soon as it shall please you.’13 Most peers had apparently decided that even King Robert was better than no king at all. We might have expected Elizabeth to be greatly encouraged by this but there is no evidence that she responded at all positively to the plea. In her speech at the closing of parliament in March she assured her listeners that if they thought she was opposed to marriage they should ‘put out that heresy’. As to the succession she hinted mysteriously that ‘other means than ye mentioned have been thought of, perchance for your good as much, and for my surety no less.’14 The startling plan Elizabeth had devised, but did not reveal for several months, was that Mary Stuart should marry Robert Dudley.
This might, at first sight, suggest an act of immense self-sacrifice on Elizabeth’s part: not only was she prepared to give up any idea of marriage to her ‘sweet Robin’, she was also prepared for him to be taken from her side and sent into almost permanent exile in Edinburgh. This was not her idea at all. She was not a whit less possessive of Robert than she ever had been. When he had begged to be allowed to lead the army in France she had refused point blank. When Ambrose Dudley returned, a sick man, from Le Havre and Robert hurried to Portsmouth to see him the queen was outraged. She sent a message after him, berating him for his sudden departure from court, accusing him of putting himself in danger of contracting the plague and punishing him with a brief banishment. It was not in her plan at all to be deprived of Robert’s daily attendance upon her. She believed that she had come up with a scheme that would solve several of her problems at a stroke. That scheme involved Robert Dudley making sacrifices, not Elizabeth Tudor.
Francis II of France had died in December 1560 and his nineteen-year-old widow had returned to Scotland in August 1562. From that point Anglo-Scottish relations turned as much on Mary’s choice of husband as on Elizabeth’s. Having an unmarried queen in Scotland as well as England was a further dislocation of international relations. Mary’s main concern was to be officially recognized as her cousin’s successor and she was wary of contracting a marriage which would jeopardize that. From the English point of view it was important to see the northern queen united with a Protestant husband well disposed towards England. Then, in the event of Elizabeth’s continuing to eschew matrimony, Mary’s succession and the Protestant succession could both be assured. It was Elizabeth who took this line of reasoning a stage further. She would make Mary a present of the man she trusted above all others. When politicians on both sides of the border had recovered from their surprise at this suggestion and Elizabeth’s determination they acknowledged that, on the surface at least, it had diplomatic advantages and, with varying shades of conviction, they tried to make it work.
Its appeal for Elizabeth went much deeper. Since the shock of Cumnor her disinclination to marry had become a mounting obsession. Her spinsterhood was the single most destabilizing factor in English politics but the more councillors and parliaments pointed out this truth to her the more obstinate she became. She spoke of being ‘married to her people’ but that was a smokescreen laid to cover her refusal to be manoeuvred into performing that primary duty demanded of all hereditary monarchs, the generation of heirs. So she wriggled and squirmed and came up with whatever alternatives she could devise. The Dudley–Stuart marriage was an ill-considered policy she promoted because it suited her book, but to Elizabeth at the time it seemed like a political masterstroke. It would stop the clamour of her advisers for her to choose a husband. This one act would solve the succession issue and Anglo-Scottish conflict, for, in the fullness of time, a Dudley son would inherit the crowns of both countries. Meanwhile, the Scottish threat would be removed because Robert would remain, first and foremost, her servant. And it would not deprive her of ‘sweet Robin’, for she did not think in terms of his being permanently banished to Edinburgh. There was no reason why Mary should not spend at least part of her time in her husband’s country (as she had when married to the dauphin). In her wildest flights of fancy Elizabeth seems to have imagined a royal ménage à trois in which the three of them lived together at her own expense. At one point she even joked that Mary might like to have Ambrose, while she would wed Robert, thus sealing a true sisterly covenant. Seen from Elizabeth’s viewpoint the proposed arrangement had an unassailable logic and she was determined to implement it.
The main disadvantage to Elizabeth’s master plan was that it took no account of the wishes and feelings of the two people most closely concerned. Neither Mary nor Robert had any enthusiasm for the proposed match. The Scottish queen was not going to allow her husband to be chosen for her by a foreign monarch and she certainly had no intention of being fobbed off with Elizabeth’s discarded lover. She also knew that the English queen would always be the first woman in Dudley’s life and she was not prepared to become a cypher. She had experienced real authority as the first lady of France during her seventeen-month marriage to Francis II and then, after his death, had been swiftly pushed into the wings by her imperious mother-in-law, Catherine de Medici, now regent for her young son, Charles IX. Mary was not about to be sidelined by yet another powerful woman. For his part, Dudley was thrown into confusion by the stratagems. He recoiled from being paired off with Mary for reasons of state and his dynastic ambitions did not run to placing a son on the combined thrones of England and Scotland. He had no desire to live in Edinburgh and he considered bizarre and alarming the prospect of becoming the rope in a tug-o’-war between two queens. He seems to have found it difficult to read Elizabeth’s mind on this issue. He told his intimates that he was sure that it was a test imposed by the queen to prove his personal loyalty. He suggested to Mary herself that it was a delaying tactic intended to stop the Scottish queen rushing into an ‘unsuitable’ marriage. And on yet another occasion he asserted that it was a ploy devised by his enemies to remove him from the centre ground of English politics. He had been neatly snared. He was damned if he agreed to marry Mary and damned if he did not. All he could do for the present was play along with Elizabeth’s scheme while looking for some way of escape.
Elizabeth’s plan took another step towards maturity in September 1564. She decided to grant Robert the earldom she had denied him in 1560. Her main (perhaps her only) intention was to render her Robin more acceptable to the Scottish queen. Cecil hinted in a letter to Maitland of Lethington that Elizabeth would be prepared to advance him still further in order to bring the marriage plans to a successful conclusion. Perhaps there was another purpose: it may have been a further bribe to induce Robert to accept his destiny. He was becoming increasingly restless as the months passed, and was seeking around for allies. When the new Spanish ambassador, Guzman de Silva, arrived in June, Dudley hastened to make friends with him and promised his support in return for de Silva’s influence again
st the Scottish marriage.
The ceremonies of ennoblement were fixed for the end of September and took place at Westminster. On 28th September Robert was created Baron Denbigh. The next day he received the title that had been suggested for his father seventeen years before, the earldom of Leicester. Among the spectators thronging the court was Sir James Melville, Mary Stuart’s representative. When Elizabeth entered the Presence Chamber she was preceded by a sword bearer whom she had specially chosen for the occasion. It was eighteen-year-old Henry Stewart, Lord Darnley, a tall, handsome young man, who was a grandson of Margaret Tudor and, therefore, another potential claimant to the throne. Robert knelt to receive his new honour and the queen fastened the ermine-lined mantle around his shoulders. As she did so she could not restrain herself from tickling his neck. Elizabeth turned to Melville. ‘How like you my new creation?’ she asked. The ambassador made a polite reply. The queen pointed suddenly to Darnley. ‘And yet you like better of yonder long lad,’ she said. It was a barbed remark intended to show that she knew exactly what was in Melville’s mind.
Darnley was a braggart with an eggshell-thin charm covering a massive ego. His conceit had been bolstered from an early age by his pathologically ambitious mother, the Lady Margaret Lennox, who planned that her son would marry his cousin, the Queen of Scots, thus strengthening her claim to the English crown, and restore the old religion to both kingdoms. Margaret’s intrigues had even included presenting Henry to Philip II as the figurehead who could unite English Catholics in a rebellion against Elizabeth. All this was well known to the queen and, in 1561, she had the boy and his parents brought from their Yorkshire estate to London, where they were placed under virtual house arrest. It was only after much pulling of diplomatic strings that they secured their release fifteen months later but their freedom only extended to becoming ‘guests’ at Elizabeth’s court. Then, at the end of August 1564, Lord Lennox received permission to return to Scotland, ostensibly on urgent business connected with his Scottish estates. It cannot have surprised Elizabeth to receive intelligence that he immediately set about raising support for his son’s cause among the Catholic nobility. This was the situation as it existed at the time of Dudley’s elevation to the peerage and it explains Elizabeth’s bon mot.
She also intended Robert to hear and take note of the comment because she realized that he was hoping that Darnley would provide his means of escape from the Scottish marriage, thwarting Elizabeth’s plan without Robert having to declare his opposition to it. Over the ensuing months he cautiously added his voice to those of others who were interceding on behalf of the young exile and urging the queen to allow him to return to his own country. In February Elizabeth yielded to these blandishments. Darnley sped northwards and immediately began paying ardent court to his cousin. It is small wonder that his first act on reaching Scotland was to dispatch a letter of thanks to Dudley for pleading his case with Elizabeth. By April 1565 it became clear to the Council that Mary would marry Darnley and in July the secret ceremony took place in Mary’s chapel. But little escaped Elizabeth’s agents and when she heard the news she was furious and lashed out against those whom she claimed had duped her. She had Margaret Lennox dispatched to the Tower and openly blamed the failure of her grand strategy on Dudley.
Commentators have always been puzzled at Elizabeth’s sending Darnley to Scotland, a decision almost guaranteed to shoot her own policy in the foot. Did she miscalculate either Mary’s duplicity or Darnley’s sexual attraction? She knew what a shallow, callow youth Lennox’s son was and her comment about Melville and his mistress preferring ‘yonder long lad’ may have been an expression of incredulity. Surely Mary could see that there was no comparison between a dissolute teenager and the elegant, cultured earl kneeling before her in all the finery of his new station. Yet, if any woman could understand how another could fall for a dashing, wild young man who had the advantage of being widely considered as ‘wrong’ for her that woman must surely have been Elizabeth Tudor. She was painfully aware of the power of sexual magic and cannot have been surprised to receive reports of how Mary had become totally besotted with Darnley. Perhaps she gave her sister queen the benefit of the doubt. When she, herself, had become aware of the political impossibility of marriage to Dudley she had put her own desires behind her. She may have assumed that Mary Stuart could do the same.
My own belief is that this episode is one of many that reveal Elizabeth’s double-mindedness. Having decided on the Scottish marriage she convinced herself of its practicality and set out to convince others. When doubts and objections were expressed (and particularly those of Dudley) she overrode them. Yet, while bending her agents to her own will, she pondered, and gradually came to accept, the contrary arguments. However, rather than admit to changing her mind, she released her hold on Darnley and let matters take their own course. It might be that the Lords of the Congregation would prevent Mary rushing into an unsuitable marriage and some of the intelligence coming from across the border suggested that a plot was afoot to seize the Scottish queen and her lover. It would be preferable if the Scots themselves plucked Elizabeth’s chestnuts from the fire. On the other hand, she could always insist that other people were to blame: she had been plotted against; her agents had failed her; her Council had not kept her properly informed. Among those blamed for undermining her strategy the new Earl of Leicester figured prominently. She castigated him for his ingratitude and let it be widely known that he had declined the magnificent destiny she had devised for him.
There was a cruel streak in all the Tudors. In Elizabeth it did not yet display itself, as it had done in her father and sister, in callously consigning large numbers of subjects to painful death, but it was there. Robert Dudley suffered from her refined spitefulness on a number of occasions and this was one of them. For two and a half years Elizabeth had threatened her favourite with a forced marriage, content for him to know what it felt like to be propelled for political reasons towards a loveless union. And at the end of it all Dudley was among those chiefly blamed for the frustration of the queen’s plans. Elizabeth Tudor was growing into a queen who was hard to serve and a woman who was hard to love.
15
Politics, Puritanism and Patronage
Elizabeth was in one of her petulant rages. ‘I would have thought that, if all the world abandoned me, yet you would remain loyal,’ she stormed at Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester. And he was not alone in facing the queen’s wrath. She denounced Norfolk as ‘a traitor or conspirator, or words of a similar flavour’. To Pembroke she snapped, ‘You talk like a swaggering soldier.’ She taunted Northampton with his chequered matrimonial career. When Pembroke and Dudley stoutly protested their undying devotion she ordered them out of the presence chamber, not to return until summoned. Later, she insisted in self-pitying anguish that everyone was against her. It was late October 1566 and the four peers were doing what it was their duty to do; they were advising their sovereign. But what they were saying was not what Elizabeth wanted to hear. The topic was by now well worn – royal marriage and succession. The recently summoned parliament had once again pressed for action but this time the Commons had said they would not pass a vote of taxes until they were satisfied. They clearly meant it. There were ugly scenes on the floor of the chamber and some members had been distributing handbills in the London streets in order to stir up popular support. Elizabeth was outraged that she, Henry VIII’s daughter, could be thus blackmailed by her own parliament. She looked to the upper house to bring pressure to bear on their colleagues. She looked in vain. Their lordships sent a four-man delegation to ask the queen to give her gracious consideration to parliament’s legitimate anxieties. It was to this little posse of her closest attendants that Elizabeth reacted so violently.1
From about this point the conflict at the centre of English politics begins to become clear. It is not a conflict between Cecil and Dudley or between rival conciliar factions. Certainly such rivalries existed and foreign diplomats were eager to detect an
d magnify every suggestion of friction in their dispatches, but we should be wary about taking such reports at face value. At about the same time that Dudley and his colleagues were suffering their dressing down, Cecil was describing the atmosphere in court and Council: ‘I feel myself . . . wrapped in miseries and tossed . . . in a sea swelling with storms of envy, malice, disdain, suspicion . . . What discomfort they commonly have that mean to deserve best of their country!’2 There were personal animosities and clashes over detail but the members of Elizabeth’s Council were united by a common politico-religious culture. Any disagreements over nuances of policy were slight in comparison with the fundamental problem facing the government. That problem was their clash of interests with the queen.
Later in the reign the opinion formers would learn to make a virtue of necessity. They would project the image of the virgin queen, associating with Elizabeth something of the devotion the Catholic generations had directed towards the Virgin Mary. Elizabeth would become, through the propaganda of painted canvas, heroic verse, public appearance and popular pamphlet, the resplendent wife and mother of her people. But in the 1560s and 1570s she was a woman occupying the position God intended only men to occupy. It was axiomatic to her circle of close advisers that she could not grasp the complexities of national and international affairs, that she was temperamental, that she needed the guidance of wise male advisers. Mary Tudor, for all her faults, had always paid close attention to the counsel she received from her husband, her chosen councillors and her parliaments. The problem with Elizabeth was that she did not follow this pattern. Not only did she jealously guard her prerogative rights in such issues as the succession and relations with foreign princes, she also restricted the Council’s freedom of action in a range of other matters. Fundamentally, the queen did not share her councillors’ understanding of her own and her country’s position in the world vis-à-vis religion and overseas expansion. Robert tried desperately to maintain his personal loyalty but it clashed more and more with his religious and political principles. He and his colleagues saw the inevitability of eventual conflict with Spain but all Elizabeth’s instincts caused her to shy away from confrontation. War was expensive. She had little sympathy for religious extremists. And she was appalled at the thought of aiding rebels against their divinely appointed sovereign. Elizabeth tried to keep a balance among her advisers, so that Dudley, Cecil, Sir Francis Knollys and the Earl of Bedford were counterpoised by Arundel, Norfolk and Thomas Radcliffe, Earl of Sussex, but, thanks to Dudley’s building up of a formidable progressive ‘party’ and to Catholic sympathizers destroying themselves in plots and intrigues, power and influence moved inexorably towards those who advocated further religious reform and intervention in Europe on behalf of fellow Protestants.