by Alison Weir
The dark events in Scotland inspired in Elizabeth a genuine concern for Mary, who had asked her to put their differences behind them, and for a time relations between the two Queens were much improved. There was a new exchange of letters between the cousins, Elizabeth playing the part of the older, wiser woman dispensing advice, and praying that God would sent Mary only short pains during childbirth and a happy outcome. 'I too', she declared, 'am big with desire for the good news.' A grateful Mary paid Elizabeth the honour of asking her to be godmother to the infant.
Tensions over the succession question seemed to have eased too, with Mary expressing her gratitude to her 'dearest sister' for her efforts to promote Mary's claim. In Mary's opinion, the Archduke Charles would be the perfect consort for her cousin, and she warmly endorsed the match.
The war of attrition between Elizabeth and Leicester lasted a mere two weeks: as usual, she could not do without him, and at the end of March, much 'misliking' his absence, she sent Mrs Dorothy, one of her ladies, to tell him of her 'affection to your hasty repair and Her Majesty's unkindness taken with your long absence'. On April he appeared again at court, and there was a reconciliation of sorts, with Elizabeth declaring that never again would she permit him to leave her side.
Cecil, who had prayed that her affection for the favourite had run its course, tried again to reconcile himself to the idea that the Queen might marry Leicester, but naturally he was not happy about it, not only on his own account, but also because he believed that the marriage would bring few benefits to England. In April, he drew up a chart comparing Leicester and the Archduke, and in nearly every respect Leicester proved the less desirable: he was of common birth, and he would bring to the marriage 'nothing either in riches, estimation, power'; his marriage had been childless and he might prove sterile. This would be 'a carnal marriage', and such marriages began in pleasure and ended in sorrow. While the Archduke was 'honoured of all men', Leicester was 'hated of many, infamed by the death of his wife'. If he married Elizabeth, 'it will be thought that the slanderous speeches of the Queen with the Earl have been true'.
Cecil believed, as he often averred to his correspondents, that the rumours were not true; he also believed that, given time, Elizabeth would come to favour the Habsburg marriage, and he prayed that God would guide her to this, for otherwise her reign would prove troublesome and unquiet.
Leicester did not remain long at court. There was still a coolness between him and the Queen, and rumour had it that she meant to deprive him of the office of Master of the Horse. At the end of April she allowed him to visit his estates in Norfolk, but she did not take his absence kindly and wrote a stinging rebuke which has not survived. A shocked Leicester informed Throckmorton,
I have received your [letter] and another from one whom it has always been my great comfort to hear from, but in such sort that I know not what to impute the difference to. If there is any cause found in me to deserve it, I am worthy of much worse, but as there is none living that can so uprightly keep themselves from error, in this far can I, in conscience, acquit myself: that I never wilfully offended. Foul faults have been found in some; my hope was that one only might have been forgiven - yea, forgotten - me. If many days' service and not a few years' proof have made trial of unremovable fidelity enough, what shall I think of all that past favour, which my first oversight [brings about] an utter casring off of all that was before?
He was so cast down that 'a cave in a corner of oblivion or a sepulchre for perpetual rest were the best homes I could wish to return to'.
Again, the Queen summoned him back, and wearily he went, but her purpose was reconciliation and it was not long before he was restored to high favour.
In May, Elizabeth agreed to send Cecil's brother-in-law, Thomas Dannett, to the Emperor in Augsburg, to say that, if he permitted the Archduke to come to England, nothing would be allowed to hinder his marriage to the Queen. But Maximilian was still sticking on the religious issue, and Elizabeth, who had planned to honour him with the Order of the Garter, decided to delay sending it until he proved more amenable.
Dannett also saw the Archduke himself in Vienna, and reported that he was courteous, affable, liberal, wise, popular and fond of outdoor sports; he had survived an attack of smallpox, but it had not marred his good looks. 'For a man', he was 'beautiful and well-faced, well-shaped, small in the waist and broad-breasted; he seemeth in his clothes wellthighed and well-legged.' Although 'a little round-shouldered', he sat erect in the saddle. The drawback was that he was so devout that he would probably never agree to change his religion. Dannett urged the Queen to 'wink at' Charles attending mass in private, but she obstinately refused. Dannett remained in Austria until August, hoping in vain that she would change her mind, but all he got was a request for a portrait.
The birth of a healthy son, James, after a long and painful labour, to Mary, Queen of Scots on 19 June in the fortified sanctuary of Edinburgh Castle immeasurably strengthened her claim to the English succession. Now her ambitions were not only for herself, but also for her son.
An apocryphal story, related decades later by Sir James Melville in his memoirs, relates how Elizabeth reacted to the birth. She was, he said, 'in great mirth, dancing after supper' on 23 June, when Cecil whispered the news to her, 'Whereupon she sank down disconsolately, bursting out to some of her ladies that the Queen of Scots was mother of a fair son, while she was but a barren stock.' Melville was not a witness of this episode, and claimed he had been told of it by friends at court, but he did not report it at the time, and there is no other contemporary account of it. All Melville told Mary of Elizabeth's reaction was that the birth of the Prince was 'grateful to Her Majesty'. In fact,Cecil had told her the news before Melville arrived, and de Silva reported that 'the Queen seemed glad of the birth of the infant'.
What Elizabeth certainly did tell Melville was that she was 'resolved to satisfy the Queen in that matter [of the succession], which she esteemed to belong most justly to her good sister, and that she wished from her heart that it should be that way decided'. The Prince's birth, she added, would prove a 'spur to the lawyers' to resolve the matter, wrhich would be decided in the next session of Parliament. Of course, Mary was jubilant to hear this, and confidently expected to be formally acknowledged as Elizabeth's heir. According to Melville, Leicester, Pembroke, Norfolk and others all upheld Mary's claim to succeed Elizabeth.
Cecil knew that Mary was using every means in her power to bring Elizabeth to heel. One of his spies reported that summer that Mary had told her advisers that she hoped to win over the Catholic nobles in England in order to establish a power base in the shires, particularly in the north, where the old religion was deeply rooted. 'She meant to cause wars to be stirred in Ireland, whereby England might be kept occupied; then she would have an army in readiness, and herself with her army to enter England; and the day that she should enter, her title to be read and she proclaimed queen.' Cecil, who was sceptical about such reports being true, already knew that Mary had contacted English Catholics, and that she had been told by her agents that these people would rise in her favour. However, he believed that her ambitions were centred upon the succession only, not the throne. Informed of this, Elizabeth sent Sir Henry Killigrew to warn Mary not to solicit the support of English subjects for her claims to the succession.
For the present Mary had more pressing matters to attend to, not least of which was the establishment of stable government in Scotland. There was also the problem of her husband. Relations between Mary and Darnley were now frigid. They rarely ate together and never shared a bed, avoiding each other's company whenever possible. In August, the Earl of Bedford reported to the Council, 'It cannot for modesty, nor with the honour of a queen, be reported what she said of him.'
Darnley was threatening to live abroad, an embarrassing reproach to Mary, who was horrified at the idea. By October, Maitland was aware that she felt desperate at the prospect of being tied to him for life.
In August, Thomas
Dannett returned in despair from Vienna. The Habsburg negotiations seemed to have reached a stalemate, and Elizabeth took pains to make it clear to the Emperor that this was nothing to do with Leicester, 'as none of us is more inclining and addicted towards this match than he is, neither doth any person more solicit us towards the same'.
In the autumn, Elizabeth decided to send Sussex to Vienna, ostensibly to invest the Emperor with the Garter, but really to persuade him to agree to her terms. She was now complaining about the paucity of 'the Archduke's dowry', and arguments about this and other matters delayed Sussex's departure for several months. Maximilian was obliged to remind Elizabeth, 'It is the future wife who provides the husband with a dowry and gives him a wedding gift.' Her behaviour confirmed his suspicion that she saw it 'as profitable to create delays somewhere or somehow in order to gain an advantage'.
Elizabeth left Greenwich for her annual progress in August, travelling through Northamptonshire to the former Grey Friary in Stamford, having avoided staying with Cecil at his house nearby because his daughter had smallpox. She then moved to Oxfordshire, staying at the old palace of Woodstock, where she had been held under house arrest in Queen Mary's reign. From here, she rode out in her litter to meet the dons who had come to escort her into the City of Oxford, where she received a warm welcome from the mayor, aldermen and scholars, the latter shouting 'Vivat ReginaV
She thanked them in Latin, then responded to a loyal address in Greek in that language before attending a service at Christ Church, in which a To Deum was sung. There then followed a hectic schedule of tours of the colleges, public orations and disputations, sermons, lectures, debates and plays. Elizabeth particularly enjoyed the now lost Palamon and Arcite by Richard Edwards, despite the stage collapsing, killing three people and injuring five more. The Queen sent her own barber-surgeons to help the latter, and ordered that the rest of the performance be postponed until the next day, when she personally thanked Edwards for entertaining her so merrily.
At St John's College, Master Edmund Campion, the future Catholic martyr, told her, 'There is a God who serves Your Majesty, in what you do, in what you advise.' Laughing, Elizabeth turned to Leicester and said this referred to him. Leicester was Chancellor of the University, and this visit was in his honour, as her visit to Cambridge had honoured its Chancellor, Cecil.
On her last public appearance before her departure, the Queen made a speech she had composed herself in Latin, declaring that it was her wish that learning should prosper, which received loud applause. When she left Oxford, the students and university officials ran alongside her litter for two miles beyond the city. One, Anthony Wood, recalled, 'Her sweet, affable and noble carriage left such impressions in the minds of scholars that nothing but emulation was in their studies.'
There were plans during this progress for Elizabeth to visit Leicester's seat at Kenilworth Castle, but the gossip among the courtiers proclaimed that this betokened an imminent announcement of their betrothal, and this so alarmed Elizabeth that she decided not to go ahead with the visit. Leicester, however, persuaded her to change her mind, and so to Kenilworth she went, being impressed with all the improvements he had made to the castle.
Desperately short of money, Elizabeth had no choice but to summon Parliament that autumn, but much to her vexation this only led to the resurrection of the succession question, which was by now a highly sensitive issue between her and the general public. Recently there had been a spate of pamphlets published, favouring mainly the claims of Katherine and Mary Grey, and one MP, Mr Molyneux, dared to suggest that the earlier petitions to the Queen be revived. Those Privy Councillors who were present tried to silence him, but the Commons were determined that the matter be settled once and for all, and resolved that another petition be submitted to the Queen, subscribed to by both Commons and Lords.
Elizabeth, being apprised of this, ordered Cecil to assure Parliament that, 'by the word of a prince, she would marry', but for the present, 'touching the limitation of the succession, the perils be so great to her person that the time will not yet suffer to treat of it'. Both Commons and Lords were determined to go ahead, the former defiantly refusing to approve any subsidy until the Queen resolved the succession question.
Their royal mistress reacted furiously, and told de Silva she would never allow Parliament to meddle in such a matter. She needed the subsidy for the good of her people, and Parliament should vote it freely and graciously. The ambassador pointed out that, if she were to marry, she could spare herself all this aggravation. She replied that she was well aware of it, and intended to write to the Emperor within the week, 'signifying that her intention was to accept the marriage'. De Silva knew that this was a bluff, since Maximilian had not moderated his demands in any way and negotiations had remained in deadlock for months, but he said nothing.
On 21 October, a deputation from the Lords waited upon the Queen in the Privy Chamber to remind her of the need to provide for the future and beg her to decide upon a successor. Elizabeth, who had not wanted to receive them but had been prevailed upon by Leicester to do so, was angry with the Lords for supporting the Commons's subversive behaviour, and reminded them that the Commons would never have dared be so rebellious in her father's day. They, the Lords, could do as they pleased, and so would she.
Three days later the Lords took her at her word and united with the Commons. The Queen was so furious that she used strong words to Norfolk, snarling that he was little better than a traitor. When Pembroke tried to defend the Duke, she told him he talked like a swaggering soldier. Leicester was next. If all the world abandoned her, she cried, yet she had thought he would not have done so.
'I would die at your feet,' he swore.
'What has that to do with the matter?' she retorted.
Then it was Northampton's turn.
'Before you come mincing words with me about marriage,' she warned, 'you had better talk of the arguments which got you your scandalous divorce and a new wife!' And so saying, she flounced out of the council chamber to seek comfort from de Silva, whom she was now treating as her chief confidante. He reported that she was angriest with Leicester, and had asked him his opinion of such ingratitude from one to whom she had shown so much favour that even her honour had suffered. She was now determined to dismiss him and leave the way clear for the Archduke to come to England. Leicester and Pembroke were soon afterwards dismayed to find themselves banned from the Presence Chamber. The nobility, complained the Queen, were 'all against her'.
She might have said the same about the stiff-necked Commons, who were virtually refusing to attend to any government business until the Queen acceded to their demands. Elizabeth told de Silva, 'I do not know what these devils want!'
'It would be an affront to Your Majesty's dignity to adopt any compromise,' he advised.
But matters could not rest as they were, and Elizabeth knew it. She therefore summoned a delegation of thirty members from each House to Whitehall, but refused to allow the Speaker to accompany them, since she alone meant to do all the talking on this occasion. Barely containing her anger, she opened by accusing 'unbridled persons in the Commons' of plotting a 'traitorous trick', and then rehearsed all the old arguments against naming her successor, administering a stinging rebuke to the Lords for so rashly supporting the Commons in this nonsense.
Was I not born in this realm? Were not my parents? Is not my kingdom here? Whom have I oppressed? Whom have I enriched to other's harm? How have I governed since my reign? I will be tried by envy itself. I need not to use many words, for my deeds do try me. I have sent word that I will marry, and I will never break the word of a prince said in a public place, for my honour's sake. And therefore I say again, I will marry as soon as I can conveniently, and I hope to have children, otherwise I would never marry.
Touching on the succession, she went on:
None of you have been a second person in the realm as I have, or tasted of the practices against my sister - whom I would to God were alive again! The
re are some now in the Commons who, in my sister's reign, had tried to involve me in their conspiracies. Were it not for my honour, their knavery should be known. I would never place my successor in that position.
The succession question was a difficult one, 'full of peril to the realm and myself Kings were wont to honour philosophers, but I would honour as angels any with such piety that, when they were second in the realm, would not seek to be first.'
Firmly, she chided them for their impertinence: it was for her, the sovereign, 'your prince and head', to decide the succession, and it was 'monstrous that the feet should direct the head'. All she would say was that she would resolve the succession problem when she could do so without imperilling herself.
As for her mutinous subjects, she hoped the instigators of this trouble would repent and openly confess their fault.
As for my own part, I care not for death, for all men are mortal, and though I be a woman, yet I have as good a courage answerable to my place as ever my father had. I am your anointed Queen. I will never be by violence constrained to do anything. I thank God I am endowed with such qualities that if I were turned out of the realm in my petticoat, I were able to live in any place in Christendom.
The Lords might have been subdued by this tirade, but the Commons were less impressed. When Cecil read out his edited draft of the Queen's speech to the House, it was received in silence, and three days later there were more calls for a petition. By now, Elizabeth had had enough of this insubordination, and on 9 November, on her orders, Sir Francis Knollys 'declared the Queen's Majesty's express command to the House that they should proceed no further in their suit, but satisfy themselves with Her Majesty's promise to marry'.
This prompted an uproar: MPs made clear their resentment at Elizabeth's high-handed attitude, perceiving it as an attack on their 'accustomed lawful liberties', while she was furious at their attempts to infringe her prerogative. On 11 November, she summoned the Speaker and insisted he impress upon the Commons the fact 'that he had received special command from Her Highness that there should be no further talk of the matter'.