Elizabeth's Women

by Tracy Borman

  With Katherine out of the way, Elizabeth once more turned her attention to Scotland, where her cousin Mary was beginning to recover her health. At the beginning of May 1568, she was strong enough to orchestrate a daring escape from the castle, assisted by a powerful force of supporters, including the Earl of Argyll, who had defected from the new regime. Together they headed for the stronghold of Dumbarton, and a battle ensued at Langside near Glasgow on May 13. Once again Mary’s forces were easily defeated, and together with a small band of men, she fled south to Dumfries. Realizing that to turn back would almost certainly mean death, the beleaguered Queen of Scots made the fateful decision to go to England and throw herself upon the mercy of her cousin.

  A modern reproduction of a copy made in 1600, from a lost original from 1559, of Elizabeth I at her coronation. (photo credit i2.1)

  Elizabeth dancing with Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester (ca. 1580), watched by her ladies. (photo credit i2.2)

  Elizabeth receiving Dutch emissaries (ca. 1585). The lady dressed in black is believed to be Blanche Parry. (photo credit i2.3)

  Lady Katherine Grey and her eldest son, Edward (ca. 1561–63). Both of her sons were born while she and her husband were imprisoned in the Tower. (photo credit i2.4)

  Lady Mary Grey, whom the Spanish ambassador described as “little, crookbacked, and very ugly.” (photo credit i2.5)

  Mary, Queen of Scots, Elizabeth’s deadliest rival. (photo credit i2.6)

  Margaret Douglas, Countess of Lennox (ca. 1560–65), Elizabeth’s ambitious and much imprisoned cousin. (photo credit i2.7)

  Elizabeth Talbot, Countess of Shrewsbury, known as “Bess of Hardwick” (ca. 1590). She was often at odds with her royal mistress. (photo credit i2.8)

  Arbella Stuart (ca. 1589), the last of the women to lay claim to Elizabeth’s throne. (photo credit i2.9)

  Elizabeth FitzGerald, Countess of Lincoln, known as “Fair Geraldine” (ca. 1575). She was one of Elizabeth’s earliest friends. (photo credit i2.10)

  Anne Dudley, Countess of Warwick (ca. 1569), Elizabeth’s long-standing friend and attendant. (photo credit i2.11)

  Lady Mary Sidney (ca. 1550–55), sister of Lord Robert Dudley and long-suffering attendant of Elizabeth I.

  Helena Snakenborg, Marchioness of Northampton (ca. 1569), one of Elizabeth’s favorite ladies at court. (photo credit i2.12)

  Lettice Knollys (ca. 1577), whom Elizabeth referred to as “that She-Wolf” after she secretly married the Earl of Leicester. (photo credit i2.13)

  Elizabeth Vernon (ca. 1600), who caused a scandal when she fell pregnant by, and secretly married, the Earl of Southampton. (photo credit i2.14)

  Bess Throckmorton (ca. 1603), who fell from favor after marrying Sir Walter Ralegh in secret. (photo credit i2.15)

  Elizabeth I in old age, with time and death in waiting (ca. 1620). (photo credit i2.16)

  Elizabeth I’s funeral procession (1603). (photo credit i2.17)

  CHAPTER 10

  Faithful Servants

  The sudden arrival of Mary, Queen of Scots, in England threw Elizabeth into a quandary. Now, more than ever, she needed the support of her companions at court. And yet the closest of these had died some three years before. Kat Astley had been Elizabeth’s chief councillor for almost thirty years and had shared all her most intimate secrets. She was the only woman who dared to speak plainly to the Queen, and even Cecil could not match her level of frankness. That she could thus address her royal mistress was due to the fact that Elizabeth knew she loved her more than any other, and time and again she had proved her unflinching loyalty. Her death therefore came as an appalling shock to the Queen—even more so because it was so unexpected.

  In early July 1565, Elizabeth’s former governess fell ill, but her life was not thought to be in any great danger. She died a few days later, on July 18. “Her Majesty went to see her the day before and I am told she is greatly grieved,” reported the Spanish ambassador. When his master, Philip II, received this letter, he added his own comment to it, writing in the margin: “What a heretic she was!”1 News of her death soon spread throughout the kingdom and overseas. For most, their immediate concern was who else to cultivate as an intermediary now that Elizabeth’s closest attendant was dead. Hugh Fitzwilliam, an English agent at the French court, lamented: “now that Mistress Ashley is gone he has no friend about her to make his moan to.”2

  For the Queen, Kat Astley’s death went far beyond mere inconvenience. She had lost the woman who had known her better than any other and who had been her most loyal friend, adviser, and confidante. She had stepped into the void created by the death of Elizabeth’s mother and the neglect of her father, and had shown her more love, devotion, and loyalty than any other person living. Only death had been able to break their otherwise impregnable emotional bond—a bond that had been as strong as that between mother and daughter. Elizabeth was inconsolable in her grief and kept to her chamber for days, suspending all official business. If she had recalled her words to Kat when defending her desire to spend so much time with Robert Dudley, she might have reflected how much more appropriate they were now. Suddenly her life seemed filled with “so much sorrow and tribulation and so little joy.”

  Elizabeth lost another of her childhood companions four years later. Her cousin Katherine Knollys had been an important member of her entourage ever since the accession. As well as attending the Queen’s person, Katherine had also been given special responsibility for the various gifts with which her royal mistress was presented. These were often unusual as well as expensive, notably the “chained monkey” that Elizabeth was once given as a New Year’s present.3 Throughout her service, Katherine was said to be “In favour with our noble queen, above the common sort.”4 As a sign of this esteem, the Queen appointed a number of Katherine’s children to places in the household, including her precocious and attractive daughter Lettice. Meanwhile, her eldest son’s wedding in 1565 was marked by a splendid court tournament.

  But all of this had come at a price. It was as if Elizabeth felt that she had fulfilled her part of the bargain by giving Katherine a much-coveted place in her household and honoring her family. Now she looked to her cousin to prove how faithfully she could serve her in return. She made it clear that she expected Lady Knollys to put her needs above all others, including those of her many children. So demanding was her royal mistress that Katherine would “often weep for unkindness.” As well as having to subordinate her children’s welfare to that of the Queen, she also had to endure long absences from her husband, the courtier Francis Knollys, whom Elizabeth dispatched on various military and diplomatic missions at home and abroad. These included taking on the guardianship of Mary, Queen of Scots, upon her arrival in England.

  Worn down by years of unstintingly selfless attendance upon the Queen, in late 1568 Katherine fell gravely ill at Hampton Court, where the court had taken up residence for the festive season that year. Hearing of this, Sir Francis repeatedly begged to be allowed to visit her and complained bitterly at Elizabeth’s “ungrateful denial of my coming to the court.” Neither was he appeased by a letter from William Cecil assuring him that his wife was “well amended.” This merely prompted him to write to Katherine expressing an intense desire for them to retire from service and live “a country poor life.”5

  This wish, albeit whimsical, would never be fulfilled. Katherine’s health deteriorated so rapidly that her royal mistress became greatly alarmed. “She was very often visited by her Majestie’s owne comfortable presence,” remarked Nicholas White, a protégé of William Cecil. Although Lady Knollys was no doubt consoled by this sign of Elizabeth’s affection, it was for her husband that she pined. Without his comforting presence, she slipped further into decline and died on January 15, 1569, aged just forty-six. The Queen was thrown into such “passions of grief … for the deathe of her kinswoman and goode servant,” that she “fell for a while from a prince wanting nothing in this world to private mourning, in which solitary estate being forgetfull of h
er owne helthe, she tooke colde, wherwith she was much troubled.”6

  Upon a visit to Elizabeth shortly afterward, Nicholas White noted that she was still beset by grief and would hardly be drawn to any other subject than that of her beloved servant and kinswoman. “From this she returned back agayne to talk of my Lady Knollys. And after many speeches past to and fro of that gentilwoman, I, perceyving her to harpe much upon her departure, sayd, that the long absence of her husband … together with the fervency of her fever, did greatly further her end, wanting nothing els that either art of man’s helpe could devise for her recovery, lying in a prince’s court nere her person.” This rather untactful remark was followed by another: “Although her Grace were not culpable of this accident [Katherine’s death], yet she was the cause without which their being asunder had not hapned.” The Queen replied disconsolately that she was “very sory for her deathe.”7

  In her grief, Elizabeth was able to turn to her old servant Blanche Parry, who had replaced Kat Astley as chief gentlewoman of her privy chamber. After the loss of two of the Queen’s closest attendants, Blanche represented a precious link with the past. She had given her royal mistress more than thirty years of unfailing loyalty and diligent service. None of the Queen’s other ladies so richly deserved this promotion. Blanche was quick to grasp the full implications of her new role, for it made her one of the most powerful ladies at court. She now had the right of admittance to every room of the Queen’s most private suite. She was with her mistress constantly, from when she rose in the morning, to her mealtimes and leisure hours during the day and her evening entertainments. Her access was unrivalled: She often spent hours alone with the Queen when no other soul was admitted—not even her most trusted advisers. With Blanche, Elizabeth could discuss matters of business, exchange gossip about courtiers, and share her most private feelings. She knew from long experience that her oldest gentlewoman would always prove discreet, trustworthy, and honest—an ideal confidante.

  As well as the private moments with the Queen, Blanche was often also in attendance when her mistress received ambassadors or ministers and was able to listen in when important matters of state were being discussed. She was, as her biographer has claimed, “at the apex of the power structure of the Elizabethan Court.”8 The rest of the court was well aware of the closeness of their relationship, and Blanche’s influence there grew considerably as a result. Her nephew, Rowland Vaughan, although embittered against her, admitted that the court was “under the command of Mistress Blanche Parry.”9

  Even at the height of his power, Robert Dudley relied upon Mistress Blanche to intervene with Elizabeth on his behalf. In March 1566, he annoyed his royal mistress by absenting himself from court because of her prevarication over a grant of land. Blanche warned his agent, John Dudley, that the Queen “much marvelled she had not heard from you [Robert] since last Monday.” She had tried to excuse Sir Robert’s behavior, assuring her mistress that he would return to court with all haste. But she urged John to insure that his master wrote to the Queen before coming back into her presence; otherwise he might encounter a frosty reception. John pressed Sir Robert accordingly, assuring him that with their other ally among Elizabeth’s ladies, Dorothy Bradbelt, being absent, “our best friend in the Privy Chamber is Mrs Blanche.”10

  Blanche’s selfless devotion served as a benchmark against which all of Elizabeth’s future servants would be assessed, including the two new additions who were recruited at around this time. The first was Mary Radcliffe, who entered the Queen’s service as a maid of honor in 1564 at the age of fourteen. The story goes that her father, Sir Humphrey Radcliffe of Elstow, Bedfordshire, came to court at the end of 1560, and upon being presented to the Queen, offered his daughter to her as a New Year’s gift when she came of age. Although this was an audacious circumvention of the traditional rules of appointment, Elizabeth was amused and agreed to accept her “gift.” She did not regret her decision, for Mary soon proved to be an asset to her household, carrying out her duties with humble assiduity.

  The Queen’s favor toward Mistress Radcliffe soon became apparent. She paid her a stipend of £40 per year—a very generous sum, given that maids of honor were usually funded entirely by their families. As well as appreciating her conscientiousness, the Queen was impressed by Mary’s apparent resolve to remain a virgin so that nothing would distract her from her duties. This caused a great deal of disappointment among the gentlemen of the court, for Mary was something of a beauty and had many admirers. One of them, John Farnham, described her as being “as comely as ever” in a letter to his friend Roger Manners. She also had an impeccable sense of style. Sir Robert Sidney’s agent at court, Rowland Whyte, wrote admiringly to his master: “Yesterday did Mrs Ratcliffe weare a whyt satten gown, all embroddered richly cutt upon good cloth of silver.”11

  Mary Radcliffe would go on to serve Elizabeth for the rest of her reign. The same was true of Helena Snakenborg, who was the only foreigner among the Queen’s ladies. She was born into an ancient Swedish baronial family, and her father, Ulf Henriksson, was one of the late king of Sweden’s most trusted supporters. In 1564, at the age of fifteen, Helena was appointed a maid of honor to Princess Cecilia, sister of the new king, Eric XIV, who had recently been a suitor to Queen Elizabeth. Later that year, Cecilia proposed to make a voyage to England. A staunch Anglophile, she claimed that she wished to make the acquaintance of the English queen, but it was rumored that she planned to revive the suit of her brother, Eric, to marry her.

  The princess and her suite of ladies, which included the young Helena, duly embarked for England but were obliged to take such a roundabout route in order to avoid hostile countries that it took them almost a year to reach their destination. During their journey, on which Cecilia was accompanied by her husband, she became pregnant, which must have made the passage even more uncomfortable.

  Their arrival in London in September 1565 caused a great deal of excitement at court. De Silva, the Spanish ambassador, reported it to his master, Philip II: “On the 11th instant [of September] the king of Sweden’s sister entered London at 2 o’clock in the afternoon. She is very far advanced in pregnancy, and was dressed in a black velvet robe with a mantle of black cloth of silver, and wore on her head a golden crown … She had with her six Ladies dressed in crimson taffety with mantles of the same.”12 The Queen gave them a lavish reception, which Helena Snakenborg described in a letter to her mother. “There came so many to visit us that there was no end to it. All wished us a hearty welcome to England.”13 Being so near her time, her mistress was conveyed at once to the place assigned for her confinement. Meanwhile, Helena and the other maids were besieged by a host of ladies and gentlemen who were dispatched by Elizabeth at regular intervals to inquire after Cecilia’s health. The Queen herself paid a visit on September 14, and the following day, the princess gave birth to a son.14

  Cecilia did not remain long in confinement after the birth, and she and her entourage became regular visitors to the court, as Elizabeth staged lavish receptions and entertainments in their honor. Although people were fascinated to see the Swedish princess and her new baby, the real star of the show was Helena. At sixteen years of age, she was blossoming into a beauty, with large brown eyes, naturally curly red hair, and a flawless pink and white complexion. Among her many admirers was Katherine Parr’s brother, William, Marquess of Northampton. Some thirty-five years her senior, he was besotted from the moment he first saw her in Cecilia’s apartments. Helena described their meeting in a letter to her mother: “Amongst the gentleman was a courtier who always came with the earliest arrivals and left amongst the last. When my gracious Lady had been ‘churched’ after the baby was born, the Marquess of Northampton (for that was the courtier’s name) talked to my gracious lady about me.”15

  The marquess wasted no time in pressing his suit. He showered Helena with extravagant gifts, including richly embroidered clothes and priceless jewels. Parr was an experienced suitor, with charming, courtly manners. William
Camden described him as: “A man very well practised in the pleasanter sort of studies, as Musicke, Love-toyes, and other Courtly dalliances.”16 It seems that Helena was beguiled by this cultured and affable older man, and she took all his protestations of love seriously, even though more cynical observers thought that he was merely toying with her. After all, she had little but her beauty to recommend her, for she brought with her no dowry. However, Parr’s love proved to be true. A divorcee of fifty-two with no children, he was eager to find a companion with whom to spend his later years, and he was captivated by this alluring young Swedish girl. After just a few weeks’ courtship, he proposed. Helena wrote in great excitement to her mother: “I answered him to this effect, that I was a simple maid, what would his Lordship want with one not equal to him in rank? His Lordship said he did not seek for riches: if only God would give him happiness of my loving heart, he would ask no other wealth. Even if I brought nothing but my shift and gave him happiness it would be a gift from God.”17

  But the love affair seemed doomed when Helena’s mistress announced her intention to return to Sweden with all haste. Cecilia had lived an extraordinarily lavish lifestyle since her arrival in England, running up debts in excess of £3,500—more than £600,000 ($960,000) in today’s money. Before the Queen would allow her to leave, she was obliged to sell whatever she could to raise the funds, including her own dresses. Her husband, meanwhile, had been arrested at Rochester after trying to flee the country.