Elizabeth's Rival

by Nicola Tallis

  LEICESTER HAD ALWAYS been an avid collector of art, and by 1588 he owned almost two hundred pieces. While the only connection with Lettice in 1580 was the portrait of her daughter Dorothy, by 1584 this had all changed, and her family was in greater evidence. Francis Knollys’s picture had been added to the collection, as well as one of her younger brother, Thomas, ‘leaning on a halberd with his armour lying by him’, and her niece Lettice Fitzgerald.24 Lettice Fitzgerald was the daughter of the youngest of Lettice’s sisters, Katherine, of whom there was also a portrait, and her husband Gerald Fitzgerald. Their daughter was their only surviving child, named after her aunt who was probably also her godmother. It was at around this time that a double portrait of Lettice’s daughters, which now hangs in Longleat House, was completed. Originally it was wrongly called ‘Frances and Dorothy Devereux’, but it shows that Lettice’s daughters were growing into attractive young women.25 It was almost certainly this portrait that was also hanging at Leicester House in 1590, described as ‘two ladies in one picture, my Lady Rich and my Lady Dorothy’.26 Most importantly, Lettice herself now appeared in the Leicester House collection, as ‘The picture of my Lady with blackamores by her’.27 Presumably the blackamoor’s mentioned in relation to Lettice’s portrait were black servants; if this was the case then the Leicesters were not alone, for the Queen also employed a young black boy in her household. This was just one of several portraits of Lettice, and as time progressed more pieces were added to the collection. Two years later, two great portraits of the Queen and two of Leicester had also been added, as well as one of Lettice that cost forty shillings.28

  It is possible that this latter portrait was the one completed by George Gower in 1585, which now hangs at Longleat. That it was painted after Lettice’s marriage to Leicester is clear, for sewn into the elaborate design on her richly embroidered dress is the ragged staff which formed part of the badge of the Dudley family. Roses from the Knollys family crest also feature, highlighting Lettice’s proud association with both of these houses, which had now been joined together through her marriage. In her splendid portrait several ropes of costly pearls adorn her neck, as well as her ears and her hair. Gower was also responsible for painting Lettice’s sister Elizabeth in 1577, to whom her portrait bears a strong similarity – so much so that for some time it was believed to represent Lettice.29 Interestingly, since 1581 Gower had been Serjeant Painter to the Queen, but he was also popular with the nobility.30 Clearly, he did not see Lettice’s disgrace with the monarch as a reason not to accept the commission for her portrait.

  Another portrait that is likely to be of Lettice also dates from this period. Sold at Sotheby’s in 2010, the location of the image is now sadly unknown. It is a miniature completed by the famous miniaturist Nicholas Hilliard, executed in delicate watercolour on vellum and set in an emerald and diamond frame. Facially, the sitter does bear a resemblance to the Gower portrait of Lettice. Hilliard was well favoured by the Queen, and Lettice was also a known patron of his; one of his two daughters was named in her honour.31 This lends support to an identification of Lettice, as does the fact that the artist also painted members of her family. There are three surviving miniatures of Leicester, and Hilliard painted Lettice’s beautiful daughter, Penelope, on at least four separate occasions.32 Later, Hilliard would also be patronized by Lettice’s eldest son, Essex, who sat for his portrait with the artist at least eight times.33 A little picture of Lettice did once survive among Leicester’s collection, so it is possible that if the sitter in the miniature was Lettice then it may have been the same one.

  AMONG LEICESTER’S PICTURE collection, two remarkable portraits of the young Lord Denbigh are listed, as well as another for which he sat alongside his mother. In one of these he was portrayed naked, in order for his parents to show off the perfection of their heir.34 Family life was treating them well, and both Leicester and Lettice were extremely proud of Denbigh, who seems to have been rather a rascal. In the Leicester House inventories, there was a portrait of ‘a gentlewoman in a petticoat of yellow satin’. This portrait had, however, been ‘all broken and quite defaced by my young lord, ut dicitur [it is said]’.35 One wonders how his parents reacted when they discovered the damage!

  Lettice and her husband had high hopes for their son, and despite his youth they had apparently entertained thoughts of his marriage. In March 1583, at the same time as the rumour of Dorothy’s marriage to the King of Scots was circulating, the Spanish ambassador Mendoza also made reference to Lord Denbigh’s marriage: ‘Leicester still perseveres in the marriage I mentioned, of his son with the granddaughter of the Countess of Shrewsbury, who, after the queen of England, they say, is the nearest heiress. With Walsingham’s aid he is thus trying to get his son made King in right of his wife.’36 The girl to whom he referred was Lady Arbella Stuart, the granddaughter of Leicester’s good friend the Countess of Shrewsbury – better known as Bess of Hardwick. The orphaned Arbella had royal blood in her veins, for her father, Charles Stuart, had been the brother of Mary, Queen of Scots’ murdered husband, Lord Darnley. Darnley and Charles were the grandsons of Henry VIII’s elder sister, Margaret Tudor, and thus through her Arbella had a claim to the English throne. Leicester and Bess may well have discussed such a marriage, and the following spring, the rumours surfaced once more. The evidence for this comes in the form of a letter from the captive Mary, Queen of Scots, who had met Leicester in 1577.37 In the spring of 1584 Mary had been Elizabeth’s prisoner for sixteen years, and was still under the custodianship of the Earl of Shrewsbury, who had inherited the role from Lettice’s father. That spring, Mary wrote to the French ambassador, claiming that the Countess of Shrewsbury ‘has conceived of settling the crown of England on the head of her little girl, Arbella, and this by means of marrying her to a son of the Earl of Leicester. These children are also educated in this idea, and their portraits have been sent to each other.’38 According to Leicester’s Commonwealth, such a desire demonstrated that ‘the disposition of this man [Leicester] bent wholly to a sceptre’.39 The Leicesters would have realized that the Queen would never consent to such a marriage. The matter, in any case, would soon be taken entirely out of their hands.

  ON 19 JULY 1584, just months after the captive Queen of Scots had referred to Lord Denbigh’s potential marriage, ‘the Noble Imp’ – as he was referred to on his tomb – died at Wanstead. The nature of his malady is unknown, and in all likelihood he had suffered from one of the common ailments that often claimed the young. The assertion that he was deformed is false – a theory based on a suit of armour once believed to be Denbigh’s, now at Warwick Castle, which shows one leg piece longer than the other.40 It has now been proven that the armour dates from around 1625, long after Denbigh’s death. There is certainly no evidence in favour of the absurd – and frankly cruel – claim made by Leicester’s Commonwealth that Denbigh was seized by ‘such a strange calamity of the falling sickness in his infancy as well may be a witness of the parents’ sin and wickedness and of both their wasted natures in iniquity’.41 The ‘falling sickness’ refers to epilepsy, but there is no evidence that Denbigh was suffering from this. Such slanders – when the Leicesters heard of them – would have been incredibly painful. Denbigh had just passed his third birthday, and although Lettice was present, Leicester was with the court at Nonsuch Palace. A message was immediately sent to him, conveying the devastating news. When it reached him, Leicester’s first thoughts were for Lettice – for once, the Queen was not his first priority, and he fled the court without waiting for her permission. Asking Sir Christopher Hatton to explain his absence, he hurried to Wanstead to be by Lettice’s side. Their happy family life had been shattered, and both parents felt their son’s death keenly. Lettice’s sorrow was heightened, for she had already experienced the loss of a son with her first husband – young Francis. For Leicester, though, it was a completely new and heart-wrenching experience that left him a broken man. He later wrote sadly of ‘the loss of my only little son, whom God has lately t
aken from us’.42 Now, the only reminders the couple had of their son were the portraits that adorned the walls of their homes.

  When the Queen was informed of the Leicesters’ tragedy, she immediately sent a message of condolence via Sir Henry Killigrew, a court diplomat who had been patronized by Leicester. However, it was Leicester whom the Queen wished to comfort, not Lettice. The following day a letter arrived from Hatton, in which he urged Leicester to take solace, for

  if the love of a child be dear, which is now taken from you, the love of God is ten thousand times more dear, which you can never lack nor lose. Of men’s hearts you enjoy more than millions, which, on my soul, do love you no less than children or brethren. Leave sorrow, therefore, my good Lord, and be glad with us, which much rejoice in you.43

  Leicester responded to this touching letter on 23 July, thanking Hatton for ‘your careful and most godly advice at this time’.44 As he continued, his words conveyed the feelings of a man who was utterly distraught: ‘I must confess I have received many afflictions within these few years, but not a greater, next her Majesty’s displeasure: and, if it pleased God, I would the sacrifice of this poor innocent might satisfy.’ He went on: ‘The afflictions I have suffered may satisfy such as are offended, at least appease their long hard conceits.’ He had been touched by the Queen’s message, and finished his letter in his praise of her: ‘She shall never comfort a more true and faithful man to her, for I have lived and so will die only hers.’45 If Lettice had seen these words, they would have done little to comfort her at this difficult time. The truth of them would not have been lost on her either; she and Leicester were married – and in love – but Elizabeth would always be the most important woman in his life. Perhaps even the true love of his life. Elizabeth still mattered greatly to him, and her words had brought him much solace.

  While the Queen and Hatton consoled Leicester, there was nothing for Lettice: she and Elizabeth remained estranged. It seems that she was, nevertheless, remembered by her old friend Lord Burghley, who had offered the grieving couple the use of his house, Theobalds, in order to give them a break. This was not lost on Leicester, who took the opportunity to write to Burghley on 31 July, expressing his thanks for his ‘kindness towards his poor wife, who is hardly dealt with. God only must help it with Her Majesty.’46 Though the Queen’s words of comfort towards him had genuinely touched Leicester, her attitude towards Lettice was clearly starting to rankle, and it says something about Elizabeth’s animosity towards her kinswoman that she was not even prepared to condole with her on the loss of her child. Leicester evidently felt the same way.

  The visit to Theobalds did little to distract Leicester and Lettice from their sadness. When Leicester apologized to his absent host for their ‘unceremonious visit’ to his home, he also explained that while they had hunted they had made ‘some of his stags afraid, but killed none’.47 They had wanted to escape from Wanstead before their son’s funeral, which was conducted on 1 August and which, as was custom, neither of them attended. From there, the child’s body was conveyed to St Mary’s Church, Warwick, where he was buried on the south side of the Beauchamp Chapel. A life-sized effigy was erected to his memory, and his tomb was decorated with his father’s heraldic devices. In a further sign of his youth, his effigy was dressed in a sexless gown. His epitaph made no mention of Lettice, but instead referred to Leicester and the noble ancestry that the child had acquired through him:

  Here resteth the body of the noble imp Robert Dudley, Baron of Denbigh, son of Robert Earl of Leicester, nephew and heir unto Ambrose Dudley Earl of Warwick, brethren, both sons of the most mighty Prince, John, late Duke of Northumberland, herein interred, a child of great parentage but far greater hope and towardness, taken from this transitory world unto everlasting life, in his tender age at Wanstead in Essex on Sunday, 19th of July, in the year of our Lord God 1584 … and in this place laid up among his noble ancestors, in assured hope of the general resurrection.

  The rawness of Leicester and Lettice’s grief was evident on the day following the funeral. Leicester had written to thank William Davison, the Queen’s secretary, for his letter of condolence, which ‘found me from the court, whence I have been absent these fifteen days to comfort my sorrowful wife for the loss of my only little son, whom God has lately taken from us’.48 They drew solace from one another, but the couple must have felt mixed emotions when, in early October, Joan Heigham, the wife of Lettice’s brother Richard, gave birth to a child. Even so, on 12 October Leicester gave a reward to the nurse and midwife.49

  In what would come as a further bitter blow, Leicester and Lettice would have no more children. At the time of Denbigh’s death Leicester was fifty-two, while Lettice was approaching forty-one – ‘fort agée’ to bear another child, according to the French ambassador, Mauvissière.50 From now on, Leicester vested his hopes in his ‘base son’ by Douglas Sheffield, but perhaps more prominently, in Lettice’s eldest son, the Earl of Essex.

  Lettice and Leicester spent most of the rest of 1584 in company with their friends and family. At the end of the month they decided to leave London behind, and travelled to the peaceful serenity of Greys Court. The time spent at Greys was a welcome distraction from their grief, but it could not last forever. It was probably soon after this that Leicester, with his wife’s encouragement, had other matters to occupy his mind.

  FOLLOWING HIS GRADUATION from Cambridge, Lettice’s eldest son the Earl of Essex had spent some time – largely in idleness – at Lamphey. According to the account of Sir Henry Wotton, however, at the end of 1584 Lettice had decided that it was time that her son was roused from his country existence.51 Initially it seems that the nineteen-year-old Earl was less than enthusiastic, causing his mother to berate him for his ‘undutifulness as a son’. She may have doted on her children, but Lettice was not above asserting her authority with them when the occasion called for it. In Essex’s case this would happen more than once. Suitably humbled by the words of his strong-willed mother, Essex responded to this charge in more respectful terms:

  My very good Lady and mother,

  If I find by your Ladyship’s displeasure conceived, that I am thought in sort to have offended, so I desire to deliver myself either wholly, or in some part from the same fault. The which some will hardly term undutifulness to your Ladyship, others carefulness of mine own good, and many think me inconsiderate, in not making your Ladyship more acquainted with my determinations. The name of undutifulness as a son I utterly abhor, my purposed course to do well I hope shall deliver me from the suspicion of carefulness of mine own estate, and if in your Ladyship’s wise censure I be thought inconsiderate, I plead as a young man pardon for that fault whereto of all others our age is most subject.52

  He ended, ‘humbly craving your Ladyship’s blessing I daily pray for your Ladyship’s most honourable and happy estate’, before signing himself, ‘Your Ladyship’s most obedient son’.53 It was almost certainly later that year that, under the auspices of his stepfather, Lettice’s son was presented at court. His mother actively encouraged him, perceiving her children’s futures to be at court. The young Earl made an instant impression.54

  Lettice’s son was an attractive young man: tall, with a full head of hair and a beard and moustache, Essex also had charisma and charm that he knew how to use to effect – something that he had inherited from his mother. Beneath the surface, though, he could be petulant, and was prone to sulking and rages when he did not get his own way. The fifty-one-year-old Queen liked his youth, and was immediately very taken with him. She would later, however, have good justification for berating his bad behaviour, declaring that ‘He held it from his mother’s side.’55 The court was the perfect place for Essex to seek his fortune, and to attempt to restore some of the family coffers that had been so heavily squandered by his father. So successful was he that he was raised to heights not achieved by either of his parents. The arrival of a new potential favourite at court naturally earned the jealousy of others who craved the Queen
’s favour. In particular, the Devon-born Sir Walter Ralegh, whose rise had also been meteoric. He and Essex despised each other: theirs was a rivalry that would continue for the next two decades.

  Lettice was gratified by her son’s warm reception from the Queen, and was grateful to her husband for his influence in that quarter. Leicester did his best to mentor his stepson, and the two men began to spend a great deal of time together. But as time went on, it became apparent that stepfather and stepson were very different in their treatment of their royal lady – Essex was, after all, his mother’s son.

  THE HAPPY DOMESTIC bliss that Lettice had experienced with Leicester had been cruelly shattered following the death of their son, and at the end of 1584 the couple received a further blow. In London, the first copies of The Copy of a Letter Written by a Master of Art of Cambridge, better known as Leicester’s Commonwealth, began to circulate, placing both Leicester and Lettice under considerable strain. Though anonymously published, the scandalous tract was the work of several authors, all of whom cast Leicester in a less than flattering light. They hated the influence that Leicester wielded over the Queen, and as Catholics, felt that she would be better advised by one of their number. As such, the authors urged the Queen to withdraw her favour from Leicester. They were also eager for Elizabeth to recognize the captive Queen of Scots as her heir, and Leicester’s support of other Protestant candidates only increased their loathing of him. The claims the tract made against him and Lettice, chiefly of their roles in the deaths of their previous spouses, were extremely damaging. Among other libellous assertions, the authors cast doubt on the validity of the Leicesters’ marriage: ‘And for the widow of Essex, I marvel, Sir, how you call her his wife, seeing the canon law standeth yet in force touching matters of marriage within the realm.’56 Though it was full of inaccuracies, the Commonwealth had a devastating effect on Leicester, who tried desperately to suppress it. It was damning to both his and Lettice’s reputations – and there was nothing that they could do about it. Equally offended was the Queen, although only on behalf of her favourite. She not only sent letters to the Mayor, Sheriffs and Aldermen of London defending Leicester’s innocence, but also demanded that they put all of their resources into suppressing as many copies as possible.57 The true effects of the Commonwealth would not be felt until later, and it has had an alarming impact on the way Leicester has been viewed by historians over the centuries; William Camden was just one of many who contributed to his blackened reputation. In response, Leicester’s nephew Sir Philip Sidney wrote a defence of his uncle, in which he claimed that ‘my chiefest honour is to be a Dudley’.58 The damage had nevertheless been done and it is true to say that the year 1584 had been the most devastating one of both Leicester and Lettice’s lives.