by Alison Weir
Queen Mary would hear no criticism of Darnley, and a gloomy Randolph lamented, 'Woe worth the time that ever the Lord Darnley set his foot in this country. What shall become of her, or what life with him she shall lead, I leave it to others to think.' He felt genuine pity for 'the lamentable estate of this poor Queen', seeing her so changed as to be almost unrecognisable: 'Her majesty laid aside, her wits not what they were, her beauty other than it was, her cheer and countenance changed into I wot not what.'
Elizabeth rarely let her heart rule her head, especially when it came to matters matrimonial, but she sometimes found the pressure to marry, or even make a decision, intolerable. In May 1565, faced with a demand from the French for an immediate answer to King Charles's proposal, and knowing what response her advisers expected her to give, she burst into tears in Council, accusing Leicester, Cecil and Throckmorton of seeking her ruin by urging her to marry. The three men, shocked at her outburst, did their best to placate her, vowing that they would never force her to do anything against her will and assuring her of their loyalty. At the end of June, realising she could not drag matters out any further, Elizabeth formally rejected Charles IX's suit on the grounds that he was too young for her: a husband could only be of use to her, she told de Foix, if he could provide her with a son. That, she made clear, was to be his chief function, since she had no intention of allowing him to usurp her control of her treasury, army or navy.
Fearing that Leicester would now seize his opportunity, Cecil, Norfolk and the Earl of Sussex used all the resources at their disposal to bring about the Habsburg match. Maximilian II's personal envoy, Adam Zwetkovich, had arrived in England in May, ostensibly to return the late Emperor's Garter insignia, but really to see if the Queen was in earnest about marrying the Archduke: another refusal would be too humiliating. He was also to make discreet enquiries as to the truth of rumours about the Queen and Leicester; if there was nothing in them, he might reopen negotiations.
So that the Emperor should be reassured that the English were serious this time, Norfolk demanded of Leicester that he support the marriage and abandon his own suit. Because Elizabeth seemed to be enthusiastic about the project for the time being, Leicester had no choice but to acquiesce, albeit unwillingly, and found himself appointed joint commissioner with Throckmorton to negotiate with Zwetkovich. If the Queen ever did marry the Archduke, Leicester stood to lose all precedence, influence and favour, and would be left to the mercy of his many enemies. The French, who had lost their chance of uniting by marriage with England against their enemy Spain, were naturally against the Habsburg match, and now did their best to persuade Elizabeth that she should marry Leicester. Much to the Earl's pique, the Queen seemed to prefer the Archduke, though it was hard for anyone to tell whether she was serious or not.
Leicester was despondent, and confided to de Silva that he believed Elizabeth would never marry him 'as she had made up her mind to wed some great prince, or at all events no subject of her own'. De Silva, however, who liked Leicester, was more optimistic, and reported to Philip II that 'Lord Robert 'the affair is not off.' His master responded by ordering him to collaborate with the Austrian envoys in bringing the Habsburg negotiations to a happy conclusion, whilst at the same time affecting to assist Leicester's cause, 'helping him in such a way that if ever his marriage to the Queen should come off, he will be bound to continue friendly'.
Zwetkovich was much encouraged by what he heard around the court. When he saw Elizabeth, he told her that the Archduke 'had a great desire to see her'. She was evasive, and rather dashed his hopes when she protested, 'I have never said to anybody that I would not marry the Earl of Leicester.' Zwetkovich assured her that Dudley was in fact 'the most important originator and warmest advocate' of her marriage to the Archduke.
'I would have stayed single', she declared, 'did not the crown of England compel me to marry to the profit of England.'
Then, appearing suddenly to view the idea of marriage with favour, she brought up the awkward subject of the malicious rumours about her relationship with Dudley: 'The House of Habsburg will find that I have always acted with due decorum.' Zwetkovich, however, wanted this corroborated, and was soon making 'diligent enquiries concerning the maiden honour and integrity of the Queen'. He was impressed to find that there was not a shred of evidence that she had ever been to the slightest degree promiscuous, and concluded that the rumours were but 'the spawn of envy and malice and hatred'. As for Leicester, he was 'loved by the most serene Queen with sincere and most chaste and most honourable love as a true brother'.
After two audiences, Zwetkovich could not, however, comprehend why Elizabeth was so changeable in her attitude to this splendid marriage offer. 'She is so nimble in her declining and threads in and out of the business in such a way that her most intimate favourites fail to understand her, and her intentions are therefore variously interpreted.' This may have been a ploy to manipulate the Austrians into offering highly advantageous terms, although during the summer the Queen's attitude to the marriage grew increasingly positive.
Zwetkovich, observing this with some relief, wondered if she might send an envoy incognito to Vienna to look at the Archduke, and he wrote to the Emperor warning him to ensure that Charles always looked his best and rode 'fiery steeds' to impress the English. Elizabeth rejected the iciea; she was still insisting that she meet her suitor before deciding to accept him, and declared that she could not trust anyone else's eyes.
'I have already said this a thousand times', she said tetchily, 'and I am still, and ever will be, of the same mind.' She asked if Charles might secretly visit her in England, saying she did not wish to give him cause to curse portrait painters and ambassadors as King Philip had done when he first set eyes on Queen Mary. The Emperor, however, viewed this suggestion as 'entirely novel and unprecedented' amongst royalty, and insisted that, if Charles were to go to England, 'it would be with all befitting ceremony' and only after the marriage negotiations had reached a satisfactory conclusion. An argument over who should finance the Archduke's household then broke out, with Elizabeth saying it was the Emperor's responsibility and Maximilian insisting it was hers.
Then the Queen began to make difficulties over religion, insisting that she could never marry anyone of another faith, since two persons of different persuasions could never live peaceably in one house, and pointing out the awful consequences for her realm if it became divided on this issue, as it surelv would be if the Archduke remained a Catholic.
Zwetkovich reminded her that she had always known that Charles was of the old faith, to which she replied that she had been given to understand that his beliefs were not deep-rooted and that he would be willing to change his opinions. Informed that he would not, she was about to abandon the whole project when Sussex intervened with a suggestion that the Archduke agree to accompany the Queen to Anglican services, whilst hearing mass in private. But the Emperor proved obdurate, and demanded that his brother and his Austrian household be allowed to hear mass in a public place. This was anathema to Elizabeth, who knew that her subjects would never tolerate it, and negotiations reached a deadlock, though both sides were still hopeful of achieving a compromise solution.
Early in the morning of 20 July 1565, despite her promise to Throckmorton, Mary, Queen of Scots married Lord Darnley at Holyrood Palace in Edinburgh. Within weeks of the lavish Catholic ceremony, the bridegroom had revealed himself for what he was - a weak-willed and dissolute bully. He had offended many of the Scottish courtiers with his arrogance, and Randolph reported, 'It is greatly to be feared that he can have no long life among these people.' Darnley wished to be crowned King Consort, but Moray successfully blocked that idea, and he had to be satisfied with the empty style 'King Henry' and the recognition of France, Spain and the Vatican.
The majority of the Scots lords had distrusted him because he was a Catholic, and realised quite soon that he was unfit to bear any form of political authority. They only tolerated him because he might be useful to them.
Moray had by now made himself so unpopular with the Queen and her husband that a civil war seemed inevitable.
When told of Mary's marriage, Elizabeth rageed that her cousin had broken her promises, accused her of subverting religion in her realm, and urged her most strongly to make her peace with Moray. But Mary, 'marvellous stout', would not. She meant to rule Scotland without interference, restore the Catholic faith, and pursue the rebel lords 'to the uttermost'. She would tolerate no interference from England.
In retaliation, Elizabeth consigned Lady Lennox once again to the Tower and offered aid to Moray, though since she had no wish to provoke a war, she only sent him a small sum of money. On 5 August, she urged Mary to be reconciled to her half-brother, but Mary outlawed him the following day and, later, imperiously informed Elizabeth, 'Her Majesty desires her good sister to meddle no further.' She then had Throckmorton arrested on the grounds that he had refused to accept a safe conduct from Darnley as King. Elizabeth was furious, and indeed, she had just cause to be offended. As his sovereign, she had had every right to recall Darnley, her subject, to England, but he had defied her. She believed Mary should have insisted he obey his queen, then negotiated with Elizabeth for the marriage; instead she had married him without her cousin's permission. It is no coincidence that Elizabeth's friendship towards Mary began to dissipate at this time. From now on, her antipathy and hostility towards her cousin would be more evident. The first sign of this was her willingness to treat with Moray.
Another dynastic crisis occurred that August. Although her sister was in disgrace, the Lady Mary Grey - known derisively to the courtiers as 'Crookback Mary' - had remained in the royal household as a maid of honour to the Queen, who wanted her under her eye. Mary was now twenty-five, had no beauty or intellect to speak of, and was rather old for marriage by the standards of her day; nor was it likely that Elizabeth would ever permit her to marry.
Frustrated of a match suitable to her status, the diminutive Mary fell in love with Her Majesty's Serjeant-Porter, one Thomas Keyes of Lewisham, a man twice as old as she and reputed to be the largest man in London. At nine o'clock one night, in his lodging by the Watergate at Whitehall Palace, they were secretly married by a priest whose identity was never discovered. A few weeks later Mary confessed what she had done to the Queen, whose rage was terrible. She consigned Keyes to the Fleet Prison for three years, and only let him out on condition that he undertook never to see his wife again. The Queen did her best to have the marriage declared unlawful, but Bishop Grindal of London refused to co-operate, much to her chagrin.
Mary was sent to Chequers in Buckinghamshire - now the official country residence of the British Prime Minister - and placed under house arrest in the custody of a Mr William Hawtrey. After a time, she was transferred to the Greenwich home of Katherine Willoughby, Dowager Duchess of Suffolk, who treated her with kindness, confiding to Cecil, 'Lady Mary is so ashamed of her fault that I can scarcely get her to eat anything. I fear me she will die of her grief. A little comfort would do her good.' Despite her distress, Lady Mary remained defiant, continuing to sign her letters 'Mary Keyes'. She paid a price for her obstinacy: when her husband died in 1571, the Queen refused to allow her to wear mourning for him. She did, however, permit her to visit the court from time to time thereafter, although Mary's health had been broken by her sad experiences, and she availed herself of this privilege only very rarely.
In fact, the marriage posed no threat to Elizabeth: Keyes had no royal connections and no ambitions. There was never any suggestion that Lady Mary Grey coveted a crown. Neither had plotted treason. The draconian punishments meted out to them were an indication of how sensitive the Queen had become regarding the succession.
Elizabeth's bitterness at Lady Mary's perfidy was compounded by her grief at the death of her former governess, Katherine Ashley, who had brought her up since childhood and taken the place of the mother she had never known, standing by her in the darkest days of her youth. Ashley was replaced in her post by Mistress Eglionby of Shropshire, but for Elizabeth, life would never be the same again. She had lost a confidant, someone who loved her for herself and had dared to reprove her when she thought it necessary.
The dismal affair of Mary Grey and Mrs Ashley's death put Elizabeth quite out of temper, and that August Cecil recorded, 'The Queen seemed to be much offended with the Earl of Leicester.' The reason for this was not far to seek, for Dudley had begun a flirtation with Elizabeth's cousin and confidante, the beautiful, red-haired Lettice Knollys, who had been married four years before to Viscount Hereford and was 'one of the best looking ladies of the court'. She was the daughter of Sir Francis Knollys by Katherine Carey, whose mother, Mary Boleyn, had been sister to Elizabeth's mother, Anne Boleyn. Some people believed that Throckmorton had put Leicester up to the pretence of an affair in order to discover whether or not Elizabeth was serious in her intent to marry him. If not, then Throckmorton hoped to secure Leicester's support for the Habsburg marriage.
If this was true, it provoked only an adverse reaction for, in retaliation, a jealous Elizabeth began to show especial favour to one of Leicester's friends, Thomas Heneage, who had been a Gentleman of the Privy Chamber since 1560, and who was safely married. 'A young man of pleasant wit and bearing', who 'for his elegance of life and pleasantness of discourse [had been] born as it were for the court'. He was no intellectual or political lightweight either, since his talents eventually won him the important Household offices of Treasurer of the Chamber and, much later, Vice Chamberlain.
Leicester was angry at the attention shown to Heneage, and there were clashes between the two men. Then Leicester added fuel to the fire by asking permission 'to go to stay at my own place as other men'. Elizabeth refused to answer him, and sulked for three days. Then she summoned him to Windsor, where a violent quarrel took place, with Leicester accusing her of casting him aside for another, and Elizabeth flinging the same complaint back at him and declaring she was sorry for the time she had wasted on him - 'And so is every good subject!' commented Cecil to a friend. 'The Queen was in a great temper, and upbraided him with what had taken place with Heneage, and his flirting with the Viscountess, in very bitter words.'
She was also angry at reports that he had been high-handed with one of her servants, and publicly, before the whole court, she shouted at Leicester, 'God's death, my Lord, I have wished you well, but my favour is not so locked up for you that others shall not participate thereof. And if you think to rule here, I will take a course to see you forthcoming. I will have but one mistress and no master.' According to Sir Robert Naunton, who wrote a memoir of Elizabeth's court and recorded the incident, this 'so quailed my Lord of Leicester that his feigned humility was, long after, one of his best virtues'.
Suitably admonished, Leicester shut himself in his apartments for the next few days, whilst Heneage was sent quietly from the court. Then, against their better judgements, Cecil and Sussex persuaded the Queen and Leicester to make it up. Elizabeth summoned him to her presence and, both weeping, they were reconciled.
For Leicester, however, it was the end of an era in his life. His relationship with the Queen was changing: the heady passion of first love had gone, and with it his conviction that she would indeed eventually marry him. From now on, he would still love her, but it would come to be a deeper, more selfless love, almost like that of a long- wedded husband for his wife: a love, moreover, that would permit him to look elsewhere for the fulfilment he could not find with her.
Dudley's flirtation with Lettice soon fizzled out, but Heneage returned to Windsor: the Queen never could resist male admiration, and thereafter she continued to show him marked favour. Only when her interest had cooled into friendship did the Earl and Heneage become friends.
Heneage was not the only handsome man to captivate Elizabeth that summer. When her distant cousin, Thomas Butler, 10th Earl of Ormonde and Lord Treasurer of Ireland, visited court, she began singling him out. 'Black Tom', as he was known, was of an age with her, and had be
en reared at her father's court, where she may originally have become acquainted with him. He was attractive and admiring, and was often in her company during the next year. Leicester, however, knew there was nothing in it, and when the Archbishop of York dared to admonish the Queen for her friendship with Ormonde - provoking an outburst of Tudor temper - the Earl took her part.
Whilst she was at Windsor, the Queen spent most of her time riding and hunting. De Silva noted that she 'went so hard that she tired everybody out, and as for the ladies and courtiers who were with her, they were all put to shame. There was more work than pleasure in it for them.'
It was at Windsor also that, as Elizabeth strolled in the park with de Silva and an Italian envoy, the former, weary of her constant demands that the Archduke come and visit her, teased her by asking if she had noticed anyone she had not seen before in his own suite or that of the Imperial ambassador. Was she entertaining more than she knew?
The Queen was startled - and panic-stricken. At a loss for words, she searched frantically among the faces of the men following de Silva and was so obviously nonplussed that the ambasador burst out laughing. Elizabeth conceded the joke, calmed down, then announced that it might be no bad idea for the Archduke to visit her in such a way, if his dignity would allow it.
'I promise you plenty of princes have come to see me in that manner,' she divulged mysteriously.
After the Mary Grey affair, it seemed more imperative than ever that the Queen get herself an heir. On 14 August, Zwetkovich was sent home with a letter from the Queen to the Emperor, containing 'an honourable answer'. Zwetkovich was confident of a happy outcome, and Cecil had persuaded himself that 'the Queen's Majesty, thanked be God, is well- disposed towards marriage'. In a letter to Sir Thomas Smith in Paris, he reported, 'Common opinion is that the Archduke Charles will come, which - if he do and will accord with us in religion, and shall be allowable for his person to Her Majesty - then we shall see some success.'