Elizabeth's Women

by Tracy Borman

  Sir Robert Carey recalled in his memoirs that as the Queen lapsed ever further into decline, she was tormented not just by ghostly visions but also by memories of real people whom she had known—above all, her women, both past and present.9 Principal among them during these early days of her illness was Arbella Stuart. In early March, Elizabeth had been greatly troubled by news of Arbella’s attempted escape from Hardwick. “The Queen has received information that some dangerous practices have been intended for the violent removing of the Lady Arabella out of the charge of her grandmother,” reported the lords of the Council. Another observer noted that “the rumours of Arabella much afflict the Queen,” and Scaramelli claimed: “It is well known that this unexpected event has greatly disturbed the Queen … as far as health was concerned, her days seemed numerous indeed but not now she allows grief to overcome her strength.”10

  When it became clear that Elizabeth was dying, the rumors about this unlikely successor grew ever wilder. It was said that Arbella had not just escaped but had married one of her many suitors and thereby intended to seize the crown. Such rumors greatly tormented the Queen. “She raves of … Arabella, and is infinitely discontented; it is feared she will not long continue,” reported one anonymous observer. The Venetian envoy likewise claimed: “Her Majesty’s mind was overwhelmed by a grief greater than she could bear. It reached such a pitch that she passed three days and three nights without sleep and with scarcely any food. Her attention was fixed … on the affairs of lady Arabella, who now is, or feigns herself to be, half mad.”11 Brouncker confirmed that Arbella was more “wilful” than ever, and that this “ariseth out of a hope of the Queen’s death.”12 Scaramelli later reported: “Her conduct is thought to have killed the Queen,” and referred to Arbella in a dispatch to his masters as “Omicida della Regina.”13

  But it was the dead, as well as the living, that plagued Elizabeth during her final days, as her mind wandered ever further back over her life. The old feelings of guilt about Mary, Queen of Scots, rose to the fore once again, and the Queen was said to have wailed out in torment at the part she had played in her execution. Sir Robert Carey described how she “shedd many teares and sighes, manifesting her innocence that she never gave consent to the death of that Queene.”14 She was also reminded of another former rival, Lady Katherine Grey, when one of those present at Richmond suggested that she might name Katherine’s eldest son as her heir. “I will have no rascal’s son in my seat but one worthy to be a king,” exclaimed Elizabeth with one last flash of her accustomed fury.15

  Thoughts of her women inspired more tender feelings in the dying Queen. She was deeply grieved by the death of her old servant Katherine Howard, Countess of Nottingham. She had received news of this in late February, and it was widely believed that this painful reminder of her mortality hastened her own death. “The Queen loved the Countess well, and hath much lamented her death, remaining ever since in deep melancholy that she must die herself, and complaineth much of many infirmities wherewith she seemeth suddenly to be overtaken,” observed Anthony Rivers, a contemporary at court. In another letter, he claimed that Elizabeth “rests ill at nights, forbears to use the air in the day, and abstains more than usual from her meat, resisting physic, and is suspicious of some about her as ill-affected.” Scaramelli agreed: “The Queen for many days has not left her chamber … they say that the reason for this is her sorrow for the death of the Countess.”16

  It was rumored that her sorrow was also due to a deathbed confession that the countess had made to her former royal mistress. The story goes that when the Earl of Essex had been languishing in the Tower after his abortive rebellion, he had resolved to send the Queen a ring that she had once given him and that was secretly understood between them to be a token of their mutual devotion. Looking out of his window, he had spied a passing boy and threw the ring down to him, urging him to convey it with all speed to Lady Philadelphia Scrope, his chief ally in the Queen’s privy chamber. In a fatal case of mistaken identity, the boy had instead presented the ring to Lady Scrope’s sister, Katherine Howard, whom she closely resembled. Knowing what it signified, Katherine had at once sought out her husband and asked him what she should do. He had instructed her to hide the ring away and say nothing of it to anyone. Thus receiving no sign of Essex’s continuing devotion, the Queen duly ordered his execution. The matter had preyed on Katherine’s conscience, and it was said that on her deathbed she had confessed everything to Elizabeth, who cried: “God may forgive you, but I never can!” The anguish her servant’s revelation had caused was said to have hastened her own death shortly afterward.17

  At length the Queen was persuaded by the Lord Admiral, widower of her loyal servant, to retire to her bed. Thenceforth her life slipped rapidly away. Sir Francis Vere, commander of the Queen’s troops in the Netherlands, heard from his agent at Richmond that “between the coffer chamber and her bed chamber he saw great weeping and lamentation among the lords and ladies, as they passed to and fro, and perceived there was no hope that Her Majesty should escape.” Vere lamented: “I never thought to live to see so dismal a day.”18 Although Elizabeth rallied briefly after taking to her bed, she was then seized by a “defluxion in the throat,” which left her unable to speak and “like a dead person.” Four days later, Scaramelli reported: “Her Majesty’s life is absolutely despaired of, even if she be not already dead.”19 On March 23, as she lay senseless, her ladies and councillors gathered around her bed anxiously watching for signs of life, Elizabeth suddenly rallied. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she exhorted her ministers to care for the peace of the realm, and when the Lord Admiral asked her if James VI should be her heir, she lifted her hand up to her head and slowly drew a circle around it to indicate a crown.20

  That evening, Elizabeth’s councillors, Archbishop Whitgift, and everyone who had thronged into the royal bedchamber departed. Only her ladies remained. They watched over her as she drifted between waking and sleeping. Between two and three o’clock the following morning, their royal mistress breathed her last. “Her Majesty departed this life, mildly, like a lamb, easily like a ripe apple from the tree,” reported her favorite chaplain, Dr. Parry.21 Lady Scrope opened the window of the bedchamber and dropped a sapphire ring to her brother, Sir Robert Carey, who was waiting below. The ring had been given to her by James VI, who had instructed her to send it to him as a sign that the Queen was dead. It was to this new king of England that Sir Robert now rode with all haste.

  The Countess of Warwick had feared “some Commotions” upon the Queen’s death being announced and her successor being proclaimed king, but in the event, this happened as quietly as her mistress’s passing. “This peacable coming in of the King was unexpected of all parts of the people,” reported the countess’s niece, Anne Clifford.22 It seemed that in their haste to acknowledge King James, the late queen’s beloved subjects had forgotten all about her. For days after her death, her corpse lay at Richmond, wrapped in a cerecloth in a “very ill” fashion. It was said that it was left entirely alone and that “mean persons had access to it.”23 In truth, it had been guarded throughout by Elizabeth’s former ladies. Scaramelli reported: “The body of the late Queen, by her own orders, has neither been opened, nor indeed seen by any living soul, save by three of her ladies.”24

  These ladies, who included the Countess of Warwick and Helena Snakenborg, watched over the Queen’s corpse as it was carefully placed in a lead coffin, and accompanied it as it was taken at night from Richmond to Whitehall Palace by barge in a sombre torchlit procession. Upon arrival, it was carried into a withdrawing chamber and placed upon a bed of state, “certain ladies continually attending it.”25 They proceeded to watch over it day and night until the funeral three weeks later.

  The late Countess of Nottingham’s granddaughter Elizabeth Southwell, who had been serving as a maid at court during Elizabeth’s final days, later claimed that her former royal mistress had had one last surprise in store for her women. The story goes that Mistress Sout
hwell had been among the ladies watching over the coffin at Whitehall, “and being all in our places about the corpse, which was fast nailed up in a board coffin, with leaves of lead covered with velvet, her body burst with such a crack that it splitted the wood, lead and cere-cloth, whereupon, the next day, she was fain to be new trimmed up.”26 Often though this tale has been repeated, it is almost certainly untrue—just one of many scandalous and grotesque reports put about to discredit the late queen.

  After lying in state at Whitehall, Elizabeth’s body was taken to Westminster Hall in preparation for her funeral. This took place at Westminster Abbey on April 28, 1603, and it was a fitting testament to one of the greatest queens England would ever know. Crowds thronged the streets, and as Elizabeth’s coffin passed by, “divers of the beholders fell a weeping, especially women.”27 The magnificent funeral procession comprised more than 1,000 nobles, bishops, ministers, and courtiers, and 260 “poor women … apparelled in black, with linen kerchiefs over their heads.” Following directly behind the coffin were the Queen’s ladies. Chief among them was Helena Gorges, who is depicted in a contemporary illustration of the funeral wearing a black hood and cloak and clutching a handkerchief to stay her tears. She and the other members of the late queen’s household who followed her coffin to its final resting place were as assiduous in serving their royal mistress in death as they had been in life.

  Acknowledgments

  I have been extremely lucky to have the support of many people, both professionally and personally, during the research and writing of this book. In particular, I would like to thank the inspirational Alison Weir for providing the original idea and for masterminding our series of joint events on Anne Boleyn and Elizabeth I, “The Whore and the Virgin.” My thanks also go to my editor, Ellah Allfrey, for suggesting a new approach to the book and for her enthusiasm and guidance throughout. My agent, Julian Alexander, was instrumental in developing the original idea, and his continuing advice and support have been, as ever, invaluable. I was delighted to have the support of Hannah Ross, senior publicist at Jonathan Cape, whose creativity and enthusiasm have insured a fantastic series of events and publicity. I am also grateful to Katherine Murphy for her assistance with editing and picture research and to Geraldine Bear, who did such a good job on the index.

  I owe a debt of gratitude to my colleagues at the Heritage Education Trust for their support and interest in the book, notably Gareth Fitzpatrick, John Hamer, and Jean MacIntyre. I have also been very fortunate in having the encouragement of my colleagues at Historic Royal Palaces, in particular John Barnes, Michael Day, David Souden, Sam Brown, and the Interpretation Team. I would like to thank Dr. Edward Impey for generously sharing his research on Amy Robsart and Cumnor Place. Likewise, Charles Lister of Boughton House for all his help with the picture research. It is thanks both to Charles and to Gareth Fitzpatrick that a little-known portrait of Elizabeth as a princess has come to national prominence.

  My friends and family have been unfailingly encouraging throughout. I would particularly like to thank my parents, both for their encouragement with this book and for inspiring me with a love of history as a child. My sister, Jayne, and her family have also been very supportive, and I would like to give special thanks to my nieces, Olivia and Neve Ellis.

  From the beginning, my friend Honor Gay has shown a limitless enthusiasm for the book and has been an invaluable source of ideas and inspiration during our long country walks. Likewise, Maura and Howard Davies have taken a keen interest in my research and writing, and have always proved willing to offer advice and support on everything from subject matter to subtitles. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to my friend Doreen Cullen for her wisdom and guidance, as well as to my fellow authors Ruth Richardson, Sarah Gristwood, Siobhan Clarke, Christopher Warwick, and Julian Humphrys for offering advice and encouragement. It is thanks to Jean and Gladney Wadsworth that I was able to undertake some of my research by the beautiful Dorset coastline. Finally, my former headmaster, Len Clark, has shown an enduring interest in my writing career, for which I am most grateful.

  Notes

  Abbreviations

  BM MS British Museum Manuscript, British Library

  CSPD Calendar of State Papers, Domestic Series

  CSPF Calendar of State Papers, Foreign Series

  CSPS Calendar of State Papers, Spanish

  CSPV Calendar of State Papers, Venetian

  HMC Historical Manuscripts Commission

  L&P Letters and Papers of Henry VIII

  SP State Papers

  TNA The National Archives

  INTRODUCTION

  1. Harrison and Jones, Andre Hurault de Maisse, 109.

  CHAPTER 1: Mother

  1. CSPV, VI, ii, 1059.

  2. Ibid., VI, ii, 1105.

  3. Elizabeth’s seventeenth-century biographer, William Camden, claimed that Anne was born in 1507, as did other sources of that time. But this would have made her no more than six years old when she entered Margaret of Austria’s service in 1513, an impossibly young age.

  4. Ashdown, Ladies-in-Waiting, 23–24.

  5. Strickland, Lives of the Queens of England, II, 572.

  6. CSPV, IV, 365.

  7. Wyatt, “Extracts from the Life of the Virtuous, Christian and Renowned Queen Anne Boleyn,” 423–24.

  8. In reality, this was little more than a second nail growing on the side of one of her fingers. Anne was so self-conscious about it that she took to wearing long-hanging oversleeves, which instantly became fashionable among court ladies.

  9. Wyatt, “Extracts,” 424.

  10. Ibid., 441.

  11. L&P, IV, II, i, 1467.

  12. Ibid., IV, II, i, 1468.

  13. CSPV, IV, 287.

  14. Bodleian Library MS Don. C42, ff.21–33.

  15. L&P, VII, ii, 251.

  16. CSPV, IV, 288.

  17. Ibid., IV, 57, 288.

  18. L&P, IX, 288.

  19. Ibid., V, i, 11.

  20. Ibid., VI, i, 150.

  21. Ibid., VI, i, 356.

  22. Ibid., VI, i, 179.

  23. Ibid., VI, i, 295.

  24. Ibid., VI, i, 300.

  25. Ibid., VI, ii, 436, 446.

  26. Ibid.

  27. CSPS, Mary I 1554–58, XIII, 166.

  28. Weir, Henry VIII, 137.

  29. L&P, VI, ii, 459.

  30. The first Queen of England—albeit an uncrowned one—was Matilda, the daughter and sole surviving heir of Henry I. She came to the throne in April 1141, but her claim was disputed by her cousin, Stephen. After a bitter civil war, Matilda was forced to relinquish the throne in November 1141, having reigned for just seven months.

  31. Strickland, Lives of the Queens of England, II, 651.

  32. BM Harleian ms 543, f.128; and 283, f.75.

  33. L&P, VII, i, 465.

  34. Wyatt, “Extracts,” 441.

  35. L&P, VI, ii, 469.

  36. Ibid., VII, i, 360.

  CHAPTER 2: “The Little Whore”

  1. L&P, VII, i, 36.

  2. Heath, “An Account of Materials Furnished for the Use of Queen Anne Boleyn.”

  3. Strype, Ecclesiastical Memorials, Relating Chiefly to Religion, and the Reformation of It, I, i, 224.

  4. L&P, VI, 491–92, 500.

  5. Ibid.,VI, ii, 511, 556.

  6. Ibid., VI, ii, 617.

  7. Ibid.

  8. Loades, Mary Tudor, 37.

  9. L&P, VII, i, 69.

  10. Ibid., VI, ii, 629.

  11. Ibid., VII, i, 31.

  12. Ibid., VI, ii, 465.

  13. Ibid., VII, i, 31–32.

  14. Ibid., VII, i, 68.

  15. Ibid., VII, i, 31, 323.

  16. Ibid., VII, i, 84.

  17. CSPS, 1534–35, V, i, 72.

  18. L&P, VII, i, 214.

  19. Ibid., VII, i, 204.

  20. Ibid.

  21. Ives, The Life and Death of Anne Boleyn, 248.

  22. L&P, IX, 189, 568.

  23. Ibid., VII, i, 84, 14
2; IX, 197; Porter, Mary Tudor, 96–97.

  24. L&P, IX, 424.

  25. Ibid., IX, 463.

  26. CSPS, 1534–35, V, i, 573.

  27. L&P, VII, ii, 495; VIII, 58.

  28. Ibid., VIII, 193.

  29. Hibbert, Elizabeth I, 15.

  30. L&P, X, 374.

  31. Ibid.

  32. Starkey, Six Wives, 584.

  33. Weir, The Six Wives of Henry VIII, 345; L&P, X, 450.

  34. L&P, XI, 17.

  35. Weir, Six Wives of Henry VIII, 345.

  36. L&P, VII, ii, 485.

  37. Ibid., X, 70.

  38. Weir, Six Wives of Henry VIII, 293.

  39. L&P, X, 51.

  40. Ibid.

  41. Ibid., X, 102.

  42. Ibid.

  43. Ibid.

  44. Ibid., X, 134.

  45. CSPS, 1536–38, V, ii, 84.

  46. CSPF, Elizabeth 1558–59, 527–28.

  47. L&P, X, 361–62.

  48. Ibid., X, 333.

  49. Hamilton, A Chronicle of England During the Reigns of the Tudors, 137–38.

  50. L&P, X, 330.

  51. Ibid., X, 381.

  52. Ibid., X, 453.

  53. Mary had scornfully rejected Anne’s conciliatory overtures, still full of hatred toward the woman who had caused her such misery over the years.