Elizabeth's Women

by Tracy Borman

  When Maitland first presented the proposal to Elizabeth, she gave him an ambiguous answer. Although she acknowledged the strength of Mary’s claim, she was careful not to say that it was the most valid among all of the various rivals to her throne, and instead declared: “When I am dead, they shall succeed that has most right. If the queen your sovereign be that person, I shall never hurt her; if another have better right, it were not reasonable to require me to do a manifest injury.” She went on to express concern about naming her successor because she had experienced firsthand how doing so had undermined her sister’s position as queen and soured their relationship. “Ye think that this device of yours should make friendship betwixt us, and I fear that rather it should produce the contrary effect. Think you that I could love my winding-sheet? Princes cannot like their own children, those that should succeed them … How then shall I, think you, like my cousin, being once declared my heir apparent … And what danger it were, she being a puissant princess and so near our neighbour, ye may judge; so that in assuring her of the succession we might put our present estate in doubt.”55

  Even though this was hardly encouraging, the fact that Elizabeth had not rejected the proposal outright gave Maitland hope. Moreover, the English queen continued to express great favor toward her cousin. He therefore persisted with the negotiations, convinced that if Mary would ratify the Treaty of Edinburgh, then in return Elizabeth would promise her the throne. But the reality was more complex than that. Mary might have had the strongest blood tie to the English crown from among the various claimants, but she was in theory excluded by the terms of Henry VIII’s will and the act of succession. Her religion provided a further barrier: England was still reeling from the turmoil created by Mary Tudor’s attempts to restore Roman Catholicism, and many of Elizabeth’s council were strongly opposed to appointing another of that faith as heir.

  Equally, though, it would be a dangerous course to reject Mary’s proposal altogether. France might have withdrawn its troops from Scotland, but the two countries remained on friendly terms, and there was the added danger that the Spanish king would lend his support. Furthermore, Mary was growing impatient with the ongoing negotiations and insisted: “We know how near we are descended of the blood of England, and the devices that have been attempted to make us as it were a stranger from it,” adding: “We will deal frankly with you, and wish that ye deal friendly with us.”56

  With the situation in danger of reaching an impasse, it was at length agreed that the two queens should meet. Mary was delighted with the idea, eager to see her “dearest sister” in the flesh. She declared that it was “the thynge that I have moste desyered ever since I was in hope therof … let God be my wytnes, I honor her in my harte, and love her as my dere and naturall syster.”57 She was confident that she could charm Elizabeth, just as she had almost everyone who came into her presence. In her excitement, she bombarded Randolph with questions about her English cousin: whether her “lyvelye face” matched that in the portrait that Elizabeth had sent her in France, what she ate, how regularly she took exercise, “and many more questions.”

  “I see my sovereign so transported with affection,” reported Maitland after his return to Scotland, “that she respects nothing so she may meet with her cousin.”58 Meanwhile, Randolph described how Mary had slipped a letter from Elizabeth “into her boosame nexte unto her schyne [skin],” and told him: “Yf I could put it nerrer my hart, I wolde.” She then gave him a ring containing a heart-shaped diamond, which she ordered him to convey to “my good syster” as a sign of her love.59

  For her part, Elizabeth seemed just as keen to meet her cousin, although she was motivated more by curiosity than affection. She had heard much of the young Scottish queen’s beauty and charm, and she wanted to see for herself what all the fuss was about. Like Mary, she also believed that she would stand a much greater chance of bending her to her will if they were to meet. Despite objections from certain members of her council, she ordered that the meeting should take place in August or September 1562 at York, which was roughly halfway between their two courts. However, the plans were disrupted by events in France in July that year, when the English sent troops to support the Huguenots (Protestants) in the civil war that had broken out, while Scotland remained neutral. This made it impolitic for the meeting between the two queens to go ahead, and it was therefore postponed.

  When she heard of this, Mary was so upset that she took to her bed and wept bitterly for days. There is no record of Elizabeth’s reaction, but it might be supposed that she was more philosophical: after all, she had less to lose from the delay. While Mary was anxious to strengthen her position in Scotland by securing the succession in England, Elizabeth had no wish to name her heir so early on in her reign. Moreover, her subsequent actions suggest that she had not been as keen to meet her cousin as she had pretended. Perhaps she was afraid of having her jealous assumptions about Mary’s beauty and charm confirmed. Whatever the case, the postponement of this meeting would have a profound effect upon the relationship between the two queens, because it would turn out to be a permanent one.

  Despite this setback, the delicate negotiations between Elizabeth and Mary continued. At the same time, another Tudor cousin was causing the Queen disquiet. Lady Margaret Douglas had been delighted when Mary had arrived safely back in Scotland in August 1561. “She sat down and gave God thanks, declaring to those [near]by how He had always preserved that Princess at all times.”60 Now that the Scottish queen was but a day or two’s journey north rather than across the seas, her plans for her son’s marriage seemed tantalizingly close to fruition.

  The Lennoxes tried to shroud these plans in secrecy, adopting code names in their correspondence, such as “the Hawk” for Mary. They also instructed that all letters should be burnt as soon as they had been read. But Margaret was so sure of success that she could not stop herself from boasting to anyone who would listen. Time and again, she denounced Elizabeth as an illegitimate usurper, and claimed that she and her heirs were the rightful sovereigns of England. One gentleman who visited her at Settrington reported that he: “heard her say that Queen Elizabeth was a bastard, and that God would send her [Margaret] her right one day.” She also had her jester poke fun at the Queen in his entertainments. These included a sketch about Elizabeth’s supposed love affair with Robert Dudley, whom the jester portrayed as a pox-ridden traitor.61

  Having been raised amidst the intrigues and power games of Scottish politics, Margaret should have known better. The new queen had sent her away from court at the beginning of the reign, but was no less suspicious of her for that. Indeed, she had arranged for spies to be sent to the Lennoxes’ houses at Temple Newsam and Settrington. When she read her agents’ dispatches, Elizabeth was said to be “greatly alarmed” at her cousin’s audacity in conspiring against her so openly, and was furious at her insults and mockery.62 By November 1561, she had amassed more than enough evidence to throw the countess and her husband into the Tower.

  Upon hearing that the Lennoxes had been consigned to that fortress, one foreign envoy scoffed: “The prison will soon be full of the nearest relations of the Crown.”63 With Katherine Grey and her husband holed up in the same place, this was no great exaggeration. Margaret and her husband were subjected to close questioning, as were all of their servants. Naturally, the couple both attested their loyalty to the Crown, but thanks to their lack of discretion, there were too many witnesses to testify the opposite. Just as she had during the Katherine Grey controversy, Elizabeth feared that there was more to the plot than met the eye and that the Catholic powers of Europe must be involved. She was not alone in this belief. De Quadra’s secretary reported that Philip II was planning to throw his weight behind Lady Margaret’s cause, seeing it as an ideal way of restoring Catholicism to England. It was predicted that if he did support her, then “eight or ten of the nobility would rise in favor” of her.64 As a result, now that the Lennoxes were under her control, Elizabeth was determined to keep them ther
e.

  When the interrogations were concluded, charges were drawn up against the couple. These condemned their treasonous relations with Mary, Queen of Scots, as well as Margaret’s outspoken claims about her own rights to the throne. The wily queen used these charges to reinforce the fact that Henry VIII had barred any of his sister Margaret’s children from inheriting the English throne. As the charges spelled out, “this makes both against Queen Mary [of Scots] and the Countess.” Furthermore, it declared that “the Countess … can claim nothing, being a mere bastard, for the marriage of her mother with Archibald Earl of Angus was found null from the beginning, as appears by a sentence of divorce.”65 Elizabeth was clearly determined to destroy Lady Margaret’s reputation and thereby neutralize the threat that she posed for good.

  As the months dragged on, Elizabeth showed no sign that she would release the Lennoxes. At length she transferred the countess to the custody of Sir Richard Sackville at Sheen but kept her husband in the Tower. In vain Margaret pleaded for his release, claiming that he suffered from an illness that made him unable to bear “solitariness.”66 When her pleas fell upon deaf ears, she exclaimed that it was “strange and grievous” to her that the Queen should be so stubborn. If she had shown greater humility or remorse, perhaps the countess would have been released sooner. As it was, she did herself few favors by continuing to insist upon her right to the throne. Furthermore, she was increasingly “obstinate” in the answers she gave to the members of the council who visited her.67

  Meanwhile, the commissioners in the Lady Katherine Grey case had concluded their interrogations. Although Elizabeth still suspected a conspiracy, they found that “no one appears privy to the marriage, nor to the love, but maids, or women going for maidens.”68 But neither had they found any evidence of the marriage itself, which made it easy to concede to the Queen’s private demand that it be declared invalid. At the end of January 1562, “A definitive Sentence were pronounced by the Archbishop [of Canterbury], that he [Seymour] had had undue and unlawful copulation with her [Katherine], and that for such their excesse, both he and she to be punished.”69

  No immediate action was taken against the couple, and instead they were left to languish in the grim fortress of the Tower. There was a good deal of sympathy for them among the people, who believed their marriage to be valid and regarded Elizabeth’s treatment of them as unnecessarily cruel. The birth of their son increased this sympathy still further, not least because males in the line of succession were a precious commodity. One of William Cecil’s agents warned him: “There be abroad, both in the city and in sundry other places in the realm, broad speeches of the case of the Lady Catherine and the Earl of Hertford. Some of ignorance make such talks thereof as liketh them, not letting [scrupling] to say that they be man and wife. And why should man and wife be let [prevented] from coming together?”70 The couple were popular with many who remembered the tragic events of Edward VI’s reign, which had seen the execution of Seymour’s father, the Lord Protector, and Katherine’s sister, Jane. Their royal blood also gave them a certain cachet, and by imprisoning them in the Tower, Elizabeth merely increased their popularity.

  It was not just her ordinary subjects who sympathized with the couple’s plight; they had powerful supporters at court. Elizabeth’s reign was still in its infancy, and she was the third monarch to rule in the space of just over a decade. Moreover, she showed little inclination to marry, so the succession was at the forefront of her councillors’ minds. Opinion was divided as to which of the various rival claimants to the throne ought to succeed if this new queen’s reign was to prove as short lived as those of her siblings. Robert Dudley led the camp for Mary, Queen of Scots, and William Cecil for Katherine Grey. Their claims were openly discussed, and it seems that Mary, at least, appreciated that she had a rival. In a letter to her, Sir Nicholas Throckmorton, the English ambassador in France, once referred to “your competitor … Lady Katherine.”71 Even though Mary was closer in blood to the throne, Katherine had more followers. “She has many supporters among them [the Council],” reported an Italian envoy in October 1561, “it is said even Cecil, the Queen’s first secretary, who governs all the state.”72 Even though her religious sympathies were ambiguous, Katherine had at least been raised a Protestant, which made her more acceptable to many in government than the Catholic Mary.

  The Queen would hear of neither candidate and hated the question of the succession to be raised. But the matter suddenly became pressing in October 1562. Elizabeth and her entourage were then in residence at Hampton Court. On the night of October 10, the Queen complained of feeling unwell and decided to ease her aching body by taking a bath. The next morning, her symptoms had worsened and she had a high fever. As her condition continued to deteriorate, her physicians confirmed everyone’s worst fears: She had smallpox. This was one of the most deadly diseases in the sixteenth century, and there was no known cure. Survival depended more upon chance than the ministrations of physicians. As well as being deadly, smallpox was also highly contagious, so most of Elizabeth’s ladies shrank from the task of attending her. Lady Mary Sidney alone insisted upon staying by her side, closeted in the stifling, sickness-filled confines of the royal bedchamber.

  Meanwhile, with Elizabeth’s reign but four years old and the menace of Spain and France growing ever greater, England looked set for a war of succession. Few of her councillors expected her to survive, and as she lay in feverish delirium at Hampton Court, they called an urgent meeting to agree upon a successor. “There was great excitement that day in the palace,” reported de Quadra, “and if her improvement not come soon some hidden thoughts would have become manifest. The Council discussed the succession twice … Some wished King Henry’s will to be followed and Lady Catherine declared heiress.”73

  As the Queen’s life hung in the balance, a group of her councillors met again, this time at the Earl of Arundel’s house. The debate over whose claim was most valid was complicated by more self-interested motives, as the powerful nobles saw the chance to ally their blood to the throne. De Quadra noted: “The question of the succession was discussed, and I understand they favoured Lady Catherine, who is supported by the Duke [of Norfolk], perhaps with the idea that one of his little daughters may in time be married to Lady Catherine’s son.” Robert Dudley and the Earl of Pembroke, on the other hand, were said to be “much against” Katherine.74 The debate raged on until the early hours, and still no resolution was reached.

  In the meantime, Elizabeth had started to show signs of recovery, and against all the odds, she survived one of the most virulent diseases of the time. Neither was she permanently scarred with the unsightly pockmarks that it so often left behind. As the Queen was recovering, Lady Sidney grew increasingly sick, and it was soon all too obvious that she too had contracted the disease. As her fever worsened, it seemed that she would pay the ultimate price for her devout service. But, like her royal mistress, she survived. Sadly, though, she was not as fortunate in escaping disfigurement. “I lefte her a full faire Ladye in myne eye at least the fayerest,” lamented her husband, “and when I retorned I found her as fowle a ladie as the smale pox could make her, which she did take by contynuall attendance of her majesties most precious person (sicke of the same disease) the skarres of which (to her resolute discomforte) ever syns hath don and doth remayne in her face.”75

  But the Queen was too preoccupied with affairs of state to give much thought to the sacrifice her lady-in-waiting had made. When she heard that her councillors had been meeting to discuss her successor, she “wept with rage.”76 She was still furious two months later, when, having resumed her duties, she railed at them for what she saw as unforgivable disloyalty. “She was extremely angry with them,” reported de Quadra, “and told them that the marks they saw on her face were not wrinkles, but pits of small-pox, and that although she might be old God could send her children as He did to Saint Elizabeth.”77

  In the event, it was not to Elizabeth that God sent a child, but to her despise
d rival, Katherine Grey. Sir Edward Warner, lieutenant of the Tower, had taken pity on the lady, who was often in tears at being separated from her husband. A few months after the birth of her son, Sir Edward therefore began to allow the couple secret conjugal visits. By July 1562, Katherine was pregnant once more. The lieutenant was no doubt aghast at so undeniable a proof that he had disobeyed his orders, but this pregnancy, like the first, was hushed up, and it was only when the child was born in early February that the secret leaked out. “The x day of Feybruary was browth a-bed within Towre with a sune my lade Katheryn Harfford, wyff to the yerle of Harrford,” noted Henry Machyn, a London tailor, in his diary. The couple had obviously established quite a cozy fraternity within their prison, for he added: “the god-fathers were ij [two] warders of the Towre.”78

  The Queen’s fury knew no bounds. The Spanish ambassador observed that she was “the colour of a corpse” upon hearing the news, utterly appalled that her orders should be flouted with such monumental disrespect. Her rage was not lessened by the fact that this second child was also a boy. Now the woman whom many believed was the rightful heir to her throne had two male heirs, while Elizabeth herself remained unmarried and childless.

  While she was conscious enough of popular opinion not to dare condemn Katherine and Hertford for treason, the Queen resolved to do everything in her power to humiliate them. Seymour was hauled before the Court of Star Chamber, which primarily dealt with political and treason cases, and accused of compounding his original offense of “deflowering a virgin of the blood royal in the Queen’s house” by having “ravished her a second time.” After being found guilty, he was fined the staggering sum of £15,000—more than £2.50 million or $4 million in today’s money.79