by Alison Weir
For Elizabeth, Robert Dudley had one supreme advantage over all her other male admirers. He could not offer her marriage. With him, she had the best of both worlds. With his wife safely living in the country -Amy Dudley came rarely to London, and her husband's duties gave him leisure to visit her only infrequently - the Queen could enjoy all the advantages of male companionship without having to commit herself either to marriage, the loss of her independence, or the surrender of her body. As a single woman she could remain in control of the relationship, whereas a wife was subject to her husband's will. She could also preserve her carefully nurtured image as the Virgin Queen.
We do not know if at this stage Dudley entertained hopes that he would ever marry Elizabeth. If the ambassadors spoke truth, and his wife was indeed ill with a disease in the breast, then he may have foreseen a time when he would be free to offer himself as a consort to the Queen - an irresistible prospect for an ambitious man. For the present, however, he was content to bask in her favour, enjoying the benefits it brought, and knowing that he must retain it if he wanted his present prosperity to endure. Without the Queen's affection, he would be at the mercy of the noble wolves who were waiting to devour him.
Baron Breuner was so concerned about Elizabeth's regard for Robert Dudley that he felt obliged to inform the Emperor of it. Ferdinand, fearful of allowing his son to marry a woman with loose morals, instructed the ambassador to discover whether there was any truth in the rumours that had now reached Vienna. Breuner sent an agent to make discreet enquiries of Elizabeth's ladies, who conceded that their mistress 'showed her liking for [Dudley] more markedly than is consistent with her reputation and dignity', but protested that she had 'certainly never been forgetful of her honour'.
But Breuner was in for an unpleasant surprise. On 5 June, with the help of William Cecil and Roger Ascham, the Queen drafted a tactful letter to the Emperor, turning down the Archduke's suit. She admitted that marriage to him would have enhanced her prestige in the eyes of Europe, and thanked Ferdinand for his care for her welfare, but explained that 'When we reflect upon the question of this marriage and eagerly ask our heart, we find that we have no wish to give up solitude and our single life, but prefer with God's help to abide therein of our free determination.'
The next day, in a splendid ceremony at Windsor, Dudley was formally installed as a Knight of the Garter. Around the same time, de Quadra was telling King Philip and others that the Queen had given Dudley _ 12,000 to spend on himself; in fact, the money was to be spent on Irish horses for the royal stables.
Breuner was perplexed by Elizabeth's attitude towards himself: she had turned down the Archduke, yet she continued to show special favour towards Breuner. 'Although the Queen affects a certain strangeness, she is quite otherwise in conversation,' he told Ferdinand, and he began to hope that her rejection of Charles was not as final as it appeared to be. On 10 June, as the ambassador was being rowed along the Thames, enjoying the summer evening, the royal barge, followed by that belonging to the Lord Treasurer, glided alongside. The Queen was taking the air, and she invited Breuner to board the Treasurer's barge; then, as the two barges drifted along side by side, she played her lute for him.
Breuner was entranced, and even more so when he was invited to take breakfast with the Queen the next morning - a rare privilege. That evening, he was again a guest on her barge, a luxurious craft rowed by eight oarsmen and boasting a cabin adorned with an awning of crimson satin. Heraldic shields hung inside it, and the floor of the barge was strewn with fresh flowers. The Queen relaxed upon a cushion of clothof-gold. She was in a relaxed, teasing mood, 'very talkative and merry', and commanded Breuner to take the helm. Later, she 'of her own accord began to talk about the Archduke', asking many questions and giving the impression that she was still interested in him as a possible husband. However, she had not wavered in her resolve to see any suitor face to face before agreeing to marry him. When Breuner recited the arguments against this, she would not listen, and when he attempted to pin her down as to her intentions regarding Charles, she was maddeningly evasive. Yet so overcome was he at such signal tokens of her friendship and favour that he ended up assuring her that the Emperor would never break off the marriage negotiations.
Shortly afterwards, the court moved to Greenwich, the beautiful Thames-side palace where Elizabeth had been born, and here, on 2 July, in the Great Park, the City's trained bands enacted a series of military manoeuvres as the Queen watched from a gallery over the detached gatehouse, which stood on the site now occupied by the Palladian Queen's House. On 11 July, a tournament organised by Dudley took place, and he had also arranged a lavish picnic, which was served in several pavilions built 'of fine poles, decked with birch and all manner of the flowers of the field and garden, as roses, gilliflowers, lavender, marigolds and strewing herbs'. The summer entertainments also included masques commissioned by Dudley for the Queen's pleasure, and he and the Queen were to be seen out riding together nearly every day - so much so, indeed, that she had begun to neglect her state duties to be with him.
Whilst the court was at Greenwich, news arrived from France of the death of Henry II, who had been mortally wounded in a joust. The news caused consternation at the English court, because although Henry had promoted the claim of his daughter-in-law, Mary Stuart, to the English throne, he was too much of a realist to jeopardise the peace of Cateau-Cambresis by attempting to place her there by force. His son, Francis II, who was proclaimed King on 10 July, was, however, a weak and surly youth who was very much under the dominance of his sinister mother, Catherine de' Medici, and his wife's powerful uncles, the Duke of Guise and the Cardinal of Lorraine, who were all staunch Catholics and virtually ruled France. What alarmed Elizabeth was that the Guises and the Queen Mother were universally known to be hostile towards her. Furthermore, Mary Stuart's mother, Mary of Guise, was acting as regent in Scotland, although she was not popular there because she was of the old faith, and Scotland was at that time undergoing, under the direction of the militant Calvinist, John Knox, a radical reformation that would result in the establishment of a more rigorous and austere Protestant church than could be found anywhere else in Europe.
The English government feared that a two-pronged attack on England might be attempted by the French and the Scots, who were supposed to be allies. Although their friendship had become somewhat strained of late, that might not necessarily be to England's advantage. There were French troops in Scotland, and if they gained the upper hand there, they might decide to invade England from the north. What Elizabeth's advisers could not foresee, however, was that France would soon be so torn apart by religious wars between Catholics and Huguenots (French Protestants) that she would have little inclination and insufficient resources to make war on England. Nor would the Scots be likely to support it, because many were in sympathy with the Huguenots and distrusted the Catholics who were in power in France. For the present, though, the Queen was sufficiently worried about her vulnerable situation to reconsider her position on marriage. If she could make mischief for the French, and so keep them occupied, she would, and when she heard that Francis II had boasted that he would have himself proclaimed King of England, she loudly declared, 'I will take a husband who will give the King of France some trouble, and do him more harm than he expects.' The man she had in mind was a thorn in the side of the French, James Hamilton, Earl of Arran, and he had been mooted as a husband for Elizabeth as far back as 1543 by Henry VIII.
Until Mary Stuart bore a child, Arran was heir to the Scottish throne, and the Protestant lords in Scotland were in favour of a match between him and Elizabeth since both were 'chief upholders of God's religion' and their marriage would unite England and Scotland.
Arran was more than willing to fall in with this plan. Until recently, he had been a refugee in Switzerland, having fled there from the French, who feared the threat he posed to Mary Stuart's throne. At the beginning of July, Elizabeth had organised his escape, sending her agent Thomas Randolph, an e
xpert on Scottish affairs, with instructions to smuggle him secretly to England disguised as a merchant. Soon, people were beginning openly to wonder whether Arran might be in England, and de Quadra was in daily expectation of an announcement of the Queen's betrothal to the Earl, whom he believed was 'something more than a guest'. In fact, Elizabeth was using her rumoured interest in Arran merely as a weapon against the French, and he did not arrive in London until the end of August.
To complicate matters, Erik of Sweden was still pressing for an answer, and had sent to say that he was coming to do his wooing himself. The personable - and Protestant - Erik was regarded in diplomatic circles as a serious threat to the Habsburg and Arran marriage plans: 'This is the man that hath given us many sharp alarms in our camp,' stated Randolph. 'This is he that breaketh our sleep and tieth oft our tongues.'
But what Elizabeth really wanted, and needed, was the protection of the Emperor and King Philip against French aggression, and, backed by Cecil, she set out to obtain this by deliberately reviving the Habsburg marriage negotiations, and then dragging them out for as long as it pleased her.
Meanwhile, the Queen was spending the season in a high good humour. Every summer, unless the plague threatened, custom decreed that English monarchs go on a progress through parts of their kingdom, staying in the houses of the great and seeing, and being seen by, the people. Such progresses were not mere holidays, but public relations exercises designed to promote the popularity of the sovereign. Queen Elizabeth delighted in going on progress, as we shall see, and on 17 July 1559 set out on the first of many, which took her to Eltham Palace, Dartford, Cobham and Nonsuch Palace, where she was lavishly entertained for five days by Arundel, who still fancied his chances as one of her suitors. One of the banquets he gave in her honour went on until three in the morning. Another banquet was followed by a masque performed 'with drums, flutes, and all the music that could be, until midnight'. When Elizabeth left Nonsuch for Hampton Court on 10 August, Arundel gave her a magnificent set of silver plate in a presentation cabinet. There were bets that she would announce their betrothal within a week or so, but those who laid them were to be disappointed.
It was during this progress that Elizabeth's relations with Dudley grew increasingly intense, and as their intimacy became more obvious, so too, proportionately, did the scandal surrounding their affair escalate. If Dudley had been unpopular before, he could now be accounted one of the most hated men in England. He was the target of envy and resentment, and his enemies, who affected to believe him capable of any villainy, however foul, made great political capital of his treacherous family background, the implication being that here was another of Northumberland's race, 'fleshed in conspiracy', poised to make his bid to rule England. So universal and enduring was the backbiting against him that even the Queen, when she was momentarily displeased with him, reminded him that his forbears 'had been traitors three descents'.
William Cecil was one of those who resented, distrusted and feared Dudley. He resented the hold he had upon the Queen, distrusted his ability to advise her on political matters, and feared the consequences of their affair. Dudley being a married man, his relationship with Elizabeth could only attract the worst kind of speculation. Were his wife to die of her rumoured illness, the Queen might marry him, and then - goodbye Cecil. Either way the throne would be undermined and the public wellbeing threatened. Cecil could not bear to contemplate a future with Dudley in power. Already, factions were forming at court, for and against the favourite, and that was a bad sign. To safeguard his own future, and those of Elizabeth and her realm, Cecil began to work in earnest for the Habsburg marriage.
To be fair, although he had many admirable qualities, and his loyalty to the Queen was never in doubt, Robert Dudley had a talent for making enemies. His haughty manner, transparent ambition and two- faced hypocrisy - he was not above maligning his 'friends' behind their backs - put people off. Most courtiers resented the fact that now, if they desired an audience with the Queen, they must first be supplicants to Lord Robert, who could - and did - demand his price. He could also be devious, and he invariably worked behind the scenes to abort any marriage negotiations embarked upon by the Queen. Failing this, he would openly try to discredit his rivals in Elizabeth's eyes, or raise objections on the grounds that a marriage alliance would not be beneficial to England's interests. Most people, however, saw through this, and concluded, quite correctly, that Dudley was looking to his own interests.' Were Elizabeth to marry, his ascendancy would be speedily overthrown.
It is a measure of her feelings for her , as she addressed him in their intimate letters, that Elizabeth, who normally cared deeply what her subjects thought of her, turned a blind eye to the hatred they expressed towards her favourite. Nor did she encourage him to court popularity among her people - she was too jealous of her own popularity to wish to share it. In fact, it pleased her to have him so dependent upon her, for such dependency virtually guaranteed his fidelity.
One of those not so enamoured of Robert Dudley, who feared for Elizabeth's good name and reputation, was her former governess, Kat Ashley, who had once gone to the Tower for aiding and abetting her mistress in her clandestine love affair with Admiral Seymour, and had good reason to fear the consequences of what was going on now. That August, Mrs Ashley took it upon herself to remonstrate with the Queen, and, on her knees, 'implored her in God's name to marry and put an end to these disreputable rumours, telling Her Majesty that her behaviour towards the Master of the Horse occasioned much evil speaking'.
Rather offended, Elizabeth retorted that, if she had showed herself gracious to Dudley, 'he had deserved it for his honourable nature and dealings'. It was beyond her how anybody dared object to their friendship, 'seeing that she was always surrounded by her Ladies of the Bedchamber, who at all times could see whether there was anything dishonourable between her and her Master of the Horse'. However, she went on defiantly, 'If she had ever had the will, or had found pleasure in such a dishonourable life - from which, may God preserve her - she did not know of anyone who could forbid her; but she trusted in God that nobody would ever live to see her so commit herself.
Mrs Ashley replied that the rumours were very damaging to Her Majesty's reputation, and confided her fear that they might alienate the Queen's subjects, or even provoke a civil war. Elizabeth shrugged this off. She commended Ashley for the devotion which had prompted her to speak out, but stated that she could not take a husband without first weighing all the advantages and disadvantages.
In that case, answered Ashley, should not her mistress distance herself from Dudley? Elizabeth responded with some emotion, protesting that she needed to see him constantly because 'in this world she had so much sorrow and tribulation and so little joy'.
Mrs Ashley or someone else reported the Queen's words to Baron Breuner, who believed that Elizabeth was telling the truth. But even though her remarks were widely reported, the rumours continued to flourish. Breuner believed that Robert Dudley's constant presence at the Queen's side was to blame - that, and the fact that he had a wife, 'a fine lady from whom he has always had nothing but good', whom he rarely visited.
The Emperor, in Augsburg, having also heard the latest disturbing rumours besmirching Elizabeth's reputation had instructed Breuner to undertake discreet but stringent enquiries to determine whether there was any truth in them. On 6 August, the Baron reported back:
I have employed as my agent a certain Francis Borth, who is on very friendly terms with all the Ladies of the Bedchamber and all other persons who have been about the Queen and have brought her up since childhood. They all swear by all that is holy that Her Majesty has most certainly never been forgetful of her honour. Yet it is not without significance that Her Majesty shows her liking for Lord Robert more markedly than is consistent with her reputation and dignity.
Indeed, for someone who had confided to Breuner that she was so beset by duties that she had not had time to think of love, she was doing little to dispel the impres
sion that she was falling in love, or was already in love, with Dudley.
Later that month, Erik of Sweden sailed for England to woo his queen, only to be driven back by storms in the North Sea. Elizabeth immediately pronounced these to be a sign that God was protecting her, but Erik was undeterred. Soon afterwards, he put to sea again, only to encounter another storm which damaged his ships and obliged him to return home, battered, yet determined not to give up. To console himself, he wrote Elizabeth a series of passionate letters in Latin, in which he told her that, although 'Fortune had been harder than steel and more cruel than Mars', and prevented him coming through stormy seas to claim her, he would, at the first opportunity, hasten through armies of foes to be at her side, because her 'most loving Erik' was 'bound by an eternal love towards her'. However, as he had state commitments to meet just at present, he would shortly be sending his brother to England in the hope of having 'a favourable answer' to his proposal.