Life of Elizabeth I

by Alison Weir

  While Burghley believed that sexual fulfilment and childbirth would help to cure the neuralgia Elizabeth suffered in her face and 'the dolours and infirmities as all physicians do usually impute to womankind for lack of marriage', and felt that the benefits of a royal marriage far outweighed the risks, Walsingham was more realistic, and spoke for the majority when he expressed his fear that motherhood would place the Queen in extreme peril.

  The French ambassador shared Burghley's optimism. Her Majesty, he informed Catherine de' Medici, 'has never been more pretty or more beautiful. There is nothing old about her except her years.' Women born under her constellation were invariably fertile, and rarely died childless. It was commonplace in England for women of advanced age to bear children: his neighbour was a woman of fifty-six, and she was at present eight months pregnant.

  Simier flounced out of the room in anger when he was told by the Council that they had rejected three of the marriage articles, namely, that Anjou be crowned immediately after the wedding, that he share jointly with the Queen the power to grant lands and church offices, and that Parliament should settle upon him an annual income of _ 60,000, payable until his children had reached their majority. Nor would the Council reach any decision on the treaty until Anjou had come to England and met the Queen.

  Simier went straight to the Queen, who was walking in her Privy Garden and listened 'with much graciousness and many expressions of sorrow that her councillors disapproved of her marriage, which she desired so much'. According to Mendoza, she became 'very melancholy' and declared afterwards to her ladies, 'They need not think that it is going to end this way. I must get married.'

  Mortified, Simier informed the Duke of these developments, but Anjou was conciliatory and said he would leave everything to the Queen's good judgement. Elizabeth, meanwhile, had become so distressed at her councillors' attitude that her ministers hurriedly backed

  down and hastily summoned her best-loved ladies to court to calm her.

  In May, she was sufficiently restored to complain to the French that they were making too many demands: 'If they had to deal with a princess that either had some defect of body or nature, or lacking mental gifts, such a kind of strainable proceeding might have been tolerated. But considering how otherwise - our fortune laid aside - it hath pleased God to bestow His gifts upon us in good measure, which we do ascribe to the giver and not glory in as proceeding from ourselves (being no fit trumpet to set out our own praises), we may in true course of modesty think ourself worthy of as great a prince as Monsieur is without yielding to such hard conditions.'

  Fortunately, Anjou had already instructed Simier not to insist on every condition being met, which was as well, since the Queen was now expressing 'such a strong desire to marry that not a councillor, whatever his opinion may be, dares to say a word against it'.

  Throughout the spring and summer, Anjou had repeatedly sought an invitation to England to meet the Queen. Elizabeth wavered: on the one hand, she had Burghley and Sussex urging her to agree, and on the other, daily opposition from Leicester, who reportedly even prostrated himself at her feet and begged her not to go through with this marriage, and was suspected, on flimsy evidence, of being behind two abortive attempts to murder Simier. In the end, Burghley prevailed, but only after Elizabeth had 'deferred three whole days with an extreme regret and many tears before she would subscribe the passport, being induced thereunto and almost forced by those that have led this negotiation in despite of Leicester'.

  In 1615, Elizabeth's biographer, William Camden, claimed that early in July, Simier, desperate to neutralise Leicester's malevolent influence, told the Queen that the Earl was married, at which Elizabeth 'grew into such a chafe that she commanded Leicester not to stir out of the Palace of Greenwich, and intended to have committed him to the Tower of London, which his enemies much desired. But the Earl of Sussex, though his greatest and deadliest adversary, dissuaded her. For he was of opinion that no man was to be troubled for lawful marriage, which estate amongst all men hath ever been held in honour and esteem.'

  As we have seen, it is more probable that the Queen had found out about the marriage fourteen months earlier. Camden claims that she briefly confined Leicester to his rooms at court and then banished him to Wanstead, but at a time when foreign ambassadors were reporting every titbit of gossip from the English court, there is no mention of this episode in any other source. Leicester was certainly away from court and staying at Wanstead at this time, but he was not out of favour. Mendoza reported on 6 July that Anjou's passport 'was given against Leicester's wish, and he is so much offended that he has retired to a house of his five miles away, where the Queen has been to see him and where she remained two days because he feigned illness. She afterwards returned secretly to London.' Hence we may conclude that Camden's tale is apocryphal.

  Elizabeth did, however, vent her rage on Lettice. When Lettice dared to appear at court sumptuously attired, as befitted a countess, and attended by a large train of servants, the Queen advanced upon her like an avenging angel and boxed her ears, shouting, 'As but one sun lights the East, so I shall have but one queen in England.' After such public humiliation, Lettice did not dare venture to court again for many years, nor would Elizabeth have allowed it, despite Leicester's frequent pleas.

  On 8 July, the Council informed Simier that they had sanctioned a visit by Anjou. His brother, Henry III, objected that it might be unwise, but the Duke ignored him and went to England, heavily disguised, in the middle of August. In case nothing came of it, his visit was meant to be a secret between himself, the Queen and Simier, but most people at court knew of it, although they wisely kept up the pretence that they did not. To ensure secrecy, Simier was assigned a pavilion in the gardens of Greenwich Palace, where Anjou would lodge with him.

  Mendoza reported that Elizabeth was 'burning with impatience for his coming, although her councillors have laid before her the difficulties which might arise. She is largely influenced by the idea that it should be known that her talents and beauty are so great that they have sufficed to cause him to come and visit her without any assurance that he will be her husband.'

  On 17 July, Elizabeth had a narrow brush with death as she left Greenwich in her barge to visit Deptford in the company of the Earl of Lincoln and the French ambassador. John Stow recorded that a fowler, Thomas Appletree, 'with two or three children of Her Majesty's Chapel, was rowing up and down the reach with a caliver, shooting at random, very rashly'. One shot passed within six feet of the Queen, piercing both arms of an oarsman and sending him toppling out of his seat, which 'forced him to cry and screech out piteously, supposing himself to be slain'. Elizabeth, unabashed, 'bid him be of good cheer, and said he would want of nothing that might be for his ease'.

  On her orders, Appletree was condemned to be hanged, and four days later the gallows were set up at the water's edge where he had committed his crime. But Elizabeth merely meant to teach him a stern lesson, and 'when the hangman had put the rope around his neck, he was, by the Queen's most gracious pardon, delivered from execution'.

  The Duke of Anjou arrived at Greenwich early in the morning of 17 August, and went directly to Simier's pavilion, where he woke him up and demanded to see the Queen. When Simier pointed out that she was still asleep, the eager Anjou had to be restrained from going to wake her up and kiss her hand. Instead, Simier sent her a note, to say he had put his exhausted master between two sheets. 'Would to God it was by your side.'

  At sunset, Anjou dined with the Queen, who had stolen out of the palace with one of her ladies. Until their meeting, she had expected him to be a hideously disfigured, misshapen dwarf; instead, there now stood before her a mature and attractive man, whose pitted skin did not detract from his dark hair and eyes and witty gallantry, and it occurred to her that here was a very desirable husband indeed. 'I have never in my life seen a creature more agreeable to me,' she declared.

  'The lady has with difficulty been able to entertain the Duke, being captivated,
overcome with love,' the French ambassador reported to the Queen Mother. 'She told me she had never found a man whose nature and actions suited her better.'

  'The Queen is delighted with Anjou, and he with her, as she has let out to some of her courtiers,' wrote Mendoza to King Philip. She had said 'that she was pleased to have known him, was much taken with his good parts, and admired him more than any man. She said that, for her part, she would not prevent his being her husband.' Philip, knowing that nothing definite had yet been decided, dismissed this as mere pretence.

  But there was no mistaking the sexual chemistry between the royal lovers. The Duke, who possessed both charm and sex appeal, was an ardent suitor and Elizabeth responded with delight. She nicknamed him her 'Frog' and they exchanged gifts, made extravagant promises, and swore to love each other until death parted them. Several courtiers were aware of this love-play, among them Leicester, who was sickened and embarrassed by it. But he could do nothing because officially, as Mendoza reported,

  the councillors deny that Anjou is here, and in order not to offend the Queen, they shut their eyes and avoid going to court, so as not to appear to stand in the way of interviews with him, only attending the Council when they are obliged. It is said that if she marries before consulting her people, she may repent it. Leicester is much put out, and all the councillors are disgusted except Sussex. A close friend of Leicester tells me he is cursing the French, and is greatly incensed against Sussex.

  Meanwhile, the talk in London was all of the French duke's ostentatious courtship of the Queen, which left many people, notably the Puritans, scandalised, and inspired the poet Edmund Spenser, under Leicester's patronage, to write a satire entitled Mother Hubbard's Tale. This was less than flattering to Simier, and caused Leicester such embarrassment when the Queen condemned it that he was obliged to dismiss Spenser from his household, although not before he had used his influence to obtain a post for him with Lord Grey in Ireland, where Spenser was to write his greatest work, The Faerie Queen, which was dedicated to Elizabeth.

  Because the Duke was not supposed to be in England, Elizabeth's fascination for him was fuelled by the necessity for snatching moments together in private. She saw him whenever she could and hated being apart from him. On 23 August, she arranged for him to view a court ball from behind a tapestry, and then gave the game away by showing off outrageously for his benefit, joining in more dances than usual and waving and smiling in his direction. Her courtiers politely pretended not to notice. Elizabeth even denied to Mendoza that Anjou was in England, and when two of her ladies gossiped openly about him, she ordered them to stay in their chamber.

  Two days later, Leicester, 'in great grief, sought an interview with Elizabeth, from which he emerged in a state of visible emotion. That evening, he and the Sidneys, who also opposed the marriage, held a conference at Pembroke's house, after which Leicester decided that he could take no more, and left court with his sister Mary Sidney. All he could hope for now was that 'Parliament would have something to say as to whether the Queen married or not.'

  Anjou's visit was abruptly curtailed when news arrived from France that a close friend had been killed in a duel, and he had to make arrangements to leave the next day. The Queen placed a royal ship, the Scout, at his disposal.

  Simier told Elizabeth that, on the last night of the visit, a sleepless Anjou had kept him awake with his sighs and moans, and hauled him out of bed early to tell him about her 'divine beauties' and swear a thousand oaths that, without hope of ever seeing her again, he could not live another quarter of an hour. She was, confessed the Duke, 'the gaoler of his heart and mistress of his liberty'.

  When Anjou left Greenwich on 29 August, 'the parting was very tender on both sides'. After he reached Dover, he wrote Elizabeth four letters; then he crossed the Channel and wrote three more from Boulogne to tell her that he was desolate without her, and could do nothing but wipe away his tears. He signed himself the most faithful and affectionate slave in the world, declaring that he kissed her feet from the coast of that comfortless sea. He enclosed with his letters 'a little flower of gold, with a frog thereon, and therein [a miniature of] Monsieur, and a little pearl pendant'.

  Although Elizabeth behaved as if nothing had happened, privately she seems to have been in turmoil, which is apparent from some pensive lines composed by her at this time, entitled 'On Monsieur's Departure':

  I grieve, yet dare not show my discontent; I love, and yet am forced to seem to hate, I dote, but dare not what I meant; I seem stark mute, yet inwardly do prate. I am, and am not, freeze, and yet I burn, Since from myself my other self I turn. My care is like my shadow in the sun, Follows me flying, flies when 1 pursue it, Stands and lives by me, does what I have done. Oh, let me live with some more sweet content, Or die, and so forget what love e'er meant.

  Anjou left Simier behind to finalise negotiations for the marriage treaty and keep Elizabeth happy. Yet opposition to the match was now stiffer than ever in England, especially in the capital, and even some courtiers were violently opposed to it. Philip Sidney, remembering the horrors of St Bartholemew's Eve, wrote Elizabeth an open but courteous letter of protest, reminding her how perfidious were the French Catholics and insisting that Anjou, whose mother was 'a Jezebel of our age', would be wholly unacceptable to her Protestant subjects, 'your chief, if not your sole, strength'. The Queen wept as she read it and castigated him soundly. He therefore felt it politic to stay away from court for a year, during which he wrote his celebrated work Arcadia whilst staying with his sister at Wilton House. Mendoza gleefully reported that he feared there would be a revolution in England if the Queen married Anjou.

  The French ambassador would have disagreed, for he witnessed the Queen's return to London that autumn, and was overwhelmed to see her looking 'more beautiful than ever, bedizened like the sun, and mounted on a fine Spanish horse, and with so many people before her that it was a marvellous thing. They did not merely honour her, but they worshipped her, kneeling on the ground, with a thousand blessings and joyful remarks.'

  Yet the Queen's apparently unshakeable popularity was soon to be under threat. In September, a Norfolk gentleman and Puritan, John Stubbs, wrote a pamphlet with the wordy title, The Discovery of a Gaping Gulf whereby England is like to be swallowed by another French marriage, if the Lord forbid not the banns by letting Her Majesty see the sin and punishment thereof. The pamphlet was printed and published in London, and thereafter widely distributed throughout England, becoming very popular and helping to influence public opinion.

  It is not hard to see why the government was angered by its contents, for it was written in such strong language as to give great offence to the Queen, and to the Duke of Anjou in particular, since it described the House of Valois as being rotten with disease and sealed with the marks of divine vengeance for its cruelties, and the Duke as being 'eaten by debauchery'. He was 'the old serpent himself in the form of a man, come a second time to seduce the English Eve and ruin the English paradise', and was 'not fit to look in at her great chamber door'. Stubbs also called into question the wisdom of the Queen bearing children at her age.

  Elizabeth was incandescent with anger when she read the pamphlet, not only because it had incited her people to oppose her, but also because of the way in which it slandered and insulted her allies, the French. On 27 September, she issued a proclamation condemning it as lewd and seditious, confiscated all copies and had them burned, then sent a preacher to Paul's Cross to assure her subjects that she had no intention of changing her religion on her marriage: 'She had been brought up in Christ, so she would live and die in Christ.' Although 'the people seemed, with a shout, to give God thanks' for this, they showed resentment 'at the sharp and bitter speeches' against Stubbs, who was a popular man and respected for his integrity.

  Informed of this, Elizabeth consulted her judges and ordered that he be arrested and hanged for sedition, along with his printer, one Singleton, and his publisher, William Page. However, as this was not a capita
l crime, the men were condemned instead to have their right hands cut'off and be sent to prison. A judge and lawyer who questioned the legality of the sentence were summarily thrown into gaol.

  The Queen showed her customary clemency by pardoning the printer, on account of his great age, but told the French ambassador that she would rather lose one of her own hands than mitigate the sentence passed on Stubbs and Page. Both were taken from the Tower to a public scaffold I front of Whitehall Palace, where Stubbs made a speech protesting his loyalty to the Queen.

  'Pray for me, now my calamity is at hand,' he punned bravely. The executioner then chopped off his right hand 'with a cleaver driven through the wrist with a beetle'.* After the stump had been cauterised with a hot iron, Stubbs took off his hat with his left hand and cried, 'God save Queen Elizabeth!' before he fainted. Page, in turn, raised his bleeding stump and said, 'I have left there a true Englishman's hand.' Then he bravely walked away with his guards without assistance. The huge crowd of spectators watched the proceedings in sympathetic and disapproving silence.

  When the furore had died down, Elizabeth realised that, by acting impulsively and with uncharacteristic cruelty, she had outraged public opinion. After eighteen months, she released Stubbs and later received him at court; he became an MP in 1581.

  Parliament was due to meet on 20 October to conclude the marriage treaty, but the Queen, concerned about public opinion and remembering that she had never yet forfeited the good will of her subjects, prorogued it for a month and asked her Council for advice.