The Queen's Bed: An Intimate History of Elizabeth's Court Page 14
Dudley retaliated by lavishing attention on Lettice Knollys, the twenty-four-year-old daughter of Elizabeth’s faithful servant and cousin Katherine Knollys. Although she was named as a Gentlewoman of the Privy Chamber on Elizabeth’s accession, Lettice had withdrawn from court after her marriage to Walter Devereux in December 1560. Over the next few years she gave birth to five children in quick succession, although still occasionally attended court. It was during her visit to Windsor in the summer of 1565 when heavily pregnant with her son Robert, that Dudley began paying court to her. When Elizabeth learned of Dudley’s flirtation she flew into ‘a great temper’ and, according to the Spanish ambassador, ‘upbraided’ Dudley ‘with what had taken place … in very bitter words’. Cecil wrote in his diary that, ‘the Queen’s Majesty seemed to be much offended with the Earl of Leicester, and so she wrote an obscure sentence in a book at Windsor’.9 The book survives and Elizabeth’s inscription reads:
No crooked leg, no bleared eye
No part deformed out of kind,
Nor yet so ugly half can be
As is the inward, suspicious mind.
Your loving mistress, Elizabeth R.10
Elizabeth would undoubtedly have been jealous of Dudley’s interest in any other woman, but the fact that Lettice was her second cousin and described by the Spanish ambassador as ‘one of the best looking ladies of the court’ made Dudley’s betrayal even more keenly felt.
Philip of Spain read the dispatches from his ambassadors in London with great interest. ‘The whole affair and its sequel,’ he wrote, ‘clearly show that the Queen is in love with Robert, and for this reason, and in case at last she may take him for her husband, it will be very expedient to keep him in hand.’11 Elizabeth reportedly told Bruener, the imperial envoy, ‘I have never said hitherto to anybody that I would not marry the Earl of Leicester, but Lord Robert was married then and there was no possibility of treating such a thing at the time.’12 At Christmas, de Foix, the French ambassador, reported that Dudley had asked Elizabeth to marry him, to which she had responded that he need only wait until Candlemas in February before she would ‘satisfy him’.13 Then on New Year’s night, de Foix told his Spanish counterpart that Elizabeth had slept with Dudley in her Bedchamber at Whitehall. But, as de Silva wrote in his dispatch, ‘the author of the rumour was a Frenchman who is strongly against the archduke’s marriage’. By now the match with the young French King Charles IX had been abandoned and the French were supporting Dudley’s suit.
Both Dudley and Heneage were in attendance on the Queen during the Christmas and New Year festivities and the drama at the English court was closely followed by diplomats abroad. Giacomo Surian, the Venetian ambassador in France, wrote to the Doge and Senate that Sir Thomas Smith, the English envoy in Paris, had described how Heneage was chosen on Twelfth Night as King of the Revels, which allowed him to rule the court for the evening and direct the festivities. In one of the games, Heneage instructed Dudley to ask the Queen, ‘which was the most difficult to erase from the mind: an evil opinion created by a wicked informer, or jealousy?’ Elizabeth replied that both were difficult, but jealousy was harder. Dudley threatened to chastise Heneage with a stick (rather than a sword as he regarded him as an inferior). The Queen told Dudley that, ‘if by her favour he had become insolent, he should soon reform and that she would love him just as she had, at first raised him’. Again Dudley withdrew to his chamber ‘in deep melancholy’, before the Queen, ‘moved by pity’, restored him to favour.14
* * *
It was to be a short-lived reconciliation. Early the following year, after a series of rows with Elizabeth, Dudley sought her permission to leave court on the pretence of visiting his sister Lady Huntingdon who had fallen ill. ‘He thinks that his absence may bring the Queen to her senses,’ reported de Silva, ‘and even may cause her to take steps regarding her marriage with him; although Leicester thinks that if she forgets to call him back and treats him like she treats everything, he will return to his house for a short time, and thus will not lose his place’.15 It was the first time in years that he had been away from the Queen’s side. Initially Elizabeth seemed glad to let him go and told her cousin Henry Carey, Lord Hunsdon, that ‘it hath often been said that you should be my Master of the Horse, but now it is likely to come true’.16 As Dudley remained absent from court, gossip began to spread. ‘Of my Lord of Leicester’s absence, and of his return to favour,’ Cecil wrote to Sir Thomas Smith in Paris, ‘if your man tell you the tales of court or city, they be fond [foolish] and many untrue. Briefly, I affirm that the Queen’s Majesty may be by malicious tongues not well reported; but in truth she herself is blameless, and hath no spot of evil intent.’17
In mid-March, Elizabeth became ill. De Silva told the Spanish King, ‘she is so thin that a doctor who has seen her tells me her bones may be counted, and that a stone is forming in her kidneys. He thinks she is going into consumption, although doctors sometimes make mistakes, especially with young people.’18 For some days the Queen lay in her Bedchamber overlooking the Thames, weak and lifeless. The Queen’s bed once again became the focus of the court, as rumours and prophecies circulated that her death was imminent. This time there was no Mary Sidney on hand. She had left for Ireland with her husband Sir Henry, who had been appointed as Lord Deputy of Ireland. With his sister absent and the Queen’s desire for him undiminished, Dudley was advised by a friend to hurry back to court as soon as he could: ‘Touching your coming here, I hear diverse opinions; some say tarry, others, come with speed. I say, if you come not hastily, no good will grow, as I find Her Majesty so mislikes your absence that she is not disposed to hear of anything that may do you good.’19 He returned, only to leave again on bad terms with the Queen a few weeks later.
Elizabeth grew increasingly resentful of Dudley’s errant behaviour; she wished him back at her side permanently. Blanche Parry urged him to make a ‘hasty repair’ on account of ‘Her Majesty’s unkindness taken with your long absence’.20 Having tried to assure Elizabeth that he would soon return, Blanche warned Dudley that the Queen ‘much marvelled she had not heard from you since last Monday’. Dudley was assured by his agent at court that in the absence of Dorothy Bradbelt, their other ally amongst Elizabeth’s ladies, ‘our best friend in the Privy Chamber is Mrs Blanche’.21 When he was away, Dudley relied on Blanche to intervene with Elizabeth on his behalf and to keep him privy to the Queen’s desires; no one knew Elizabeth better. By the end of May, Dudley was back by her side.
18
The Elixir of Life
On 7 February 1565, Cornelius de Lannoy, an alchemist from the Netherlands, wrote to Elizabeth offering her an unimaginable gift. He claimed to be able to transmute base metals like lead into gold and distil the elixir of life, a mythical potion that cured all infirmities and brought eternal life.1 It was all that Elizabeth needed to safeguard her realm. The Philosopher’s Stone, the agent that was believed not only to make alchemical gold, but heal disease and bring immortality, had been the elusive dream of alchemists over the centuries. The compound called ‘pantaura’ which de Lannoy promised to distil, incorporated the virtues of ‘the soul of the world’ to instantly heal diseases, maintain ‘vigour of limbs, clearness of memory’ and be the ‘best and surest remedy again all kinds of poison’.2 It held out the prospect of achieving the beauty that Elizabeth’s women sought to artificially create each day, preserving her health, and making a reality of Elizabeth’s motto ‘Semper Eadem’ – ‘Always the Same’.3
The Queen received de Lannoy’s letter with keen interest and enthusiasm. Her knowledge of ‘all parts of Philosophy’ and ‘favour of science’, including alchemy, was known throughout Europe.4 Alchemists dedicated books to her and on at least one occasion she received an alchemical book as a New Year’s gift.5 She invested in distilling houses at Hampton Court and one Millicent Franckwell also distilled in her Privy Chamber, for a fee of £40 per annum, what was described as ‘the Queen’s medicine’ and ‘Queen Elizabeth’s potion�
�. This was thought to be a purgative she used twice a year.6 As testament to her patronage of alchemy, an emblem was later built into a window at Whitehall Palace describing her as the ‘true elixir’, the ultimate icon of perfection and immortality.7
Whilst alchemy was a felony punishable by death and forfeiture of goods, it was a practice highly prized by the Queen and her court and would-be practitioners were required to obtain a royal dispensation.8 De Lannoy offered to transmute gold worth £33,000 and precious stones on an annual basis.9 Faced by an empty treasury and the pressure of war, both Elizabeth and Cecil wanted to believe de Lannoy’s claims. He was granted a generous £120 pension per annum, living expenses for his family and servants, and an alchemical laboratory was set up for him in Somerset House in London under the supervision of Cecil’s agent Armagil Waad.10
Later that year, Thomas Charnock, an alchemist from Somerset, wrote a Book Dedicated vnto the Queen’s Majesty, in which he too sketched out a scheme to transmute gold for her and discover the Philosopher’s Stone.11 He promised to produce a medicine, ‘an elixir’, that would ‘prolong her grace’s most royal life … heal more diseases than any other medicine of physic, gladden the mind, comfort youth, renew age and will not allow blood to putrefy or phlegm to have domination nor choler to become melancholy and exalted’.12 Despite having a wife and children, Charnock urged the Queen to commit him to the [White] Tower where he would be cloistered to complete his work. He even offered his own beheading on Tower Hill as guarantee of his scheme.13 However, Charnock was disappointed to discover that he was too late: de Lannoy was already installed in Somerset House and at work to deliver on his promises of health and riches.14
Having promised quick results but with nothing to show after a few months, de Lannoy began complaining about the poor quality of the English laboratory supplies which he claimed were of ‘insufficient strength to sustain the force of his great fires’ and hindering his process. He informed the Queen that he had sent to Antwerp and Kassel for suitable replacements to ensure his success. Elizabeth and Cecil both readily accepted his explanation for the delay and showed no concern that de Lannoy’s evasions masked fraud.15 They continued to believe de Lannoy’s claims and keenly anticipated the fruits of his labours. Indeed it was a growing sense that de Lannoy was being distracted from his task by the presence of a young Swedish princess now living adjacent to Somerset House, rather than doubts about the efficacy of his promises, that led to de Lannoy being placed under careful watch.
* * *
Princess Cecilia of Sweden, the younger sister of King Erik XIV, arrived in England in September 1565. She had come to visit the Queen, about whom she had heard so much, and to persuade Elizabeth to accept her brother’s hand in marriage.16 The princess was an attractive, learned woman with a keen sense of adventure and a taste for extravagant living. During the past few years she had been at the centre of a series of scandals at the Swedish court. At the wedding of her eldest sister, Princess Catherine to Edward II of Ostfriesland in 1559, a man had been spotted climbing into her window several nights in a row. When the matter was investigated, the brother of the groom was found in Cecilia’s room half-naked. He was thrown into gaol and, according to some sources, castrated.
In 1564, the princess was married to Christopher II, Margrave of Baden-Rodemachern. Immediately after the wedding they travelled to England. After a circuitous journey that took more than a year, they arrived in September 1565 and were warmly received by the Lord and Lady Cobham who accompanied them to London. The arrival of Princess Cecilia, who was by then heavily pregnant, was greeted with great enthusiasm. As de Silva, the Spanish ambassador, wrote:
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 taffeta with mantles of the same.17
She was lodged at Bedford House in London, which had been furnished with beds and hangings belonging to the Queen. Four days after her arrival in the city she gave birth to her first child, Edward. His christening took place with great ceremony at Westminster Abbey with the Queen, the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Duke of Norfolk standing as godparents. Thereafter Cecilia and her entourage became regular visitors at Whitehall and were welcomed at court banquets and entertainments.
Cecilia was to remain in England for more than a year, but after several months her extravagant lifestyle caught up with her and she fell heavily into debt. When she announced her intention to return to Sweden, the Queen demanded that she pay her creditors in full and sell whatever she could to raise the funds. Meanwhile her husband, who had already tried to flee the country, was arrested at Rochester.
It was then that the princess, whose lodgings were close to Somerset House, sought out Cornelius de Lannoy. He had formerly served the King of Sweden and his ambitious alchemical claims drew Cecilia to him. Now desperate to pay her creditors, Cecilia petitioned him for help. In mid-January 1566, de Lannoy agreed to lend her £10,000 and a further £13,000 in early March. When Cecil learned of the bond between them he worried that Lannoy was not focussing on his work for the Queen and that the development of the elixir might be impeded. All future correspondence between de Lannoy and Cecilia was intercepted.18 When Elizabeth was informed as to de Lannoy’s agreement with Cecilia she immediately forbade the Dutchman to have any further contact with the princess. Aware that he had aroused the Queen’s suspicions, de Lannoy wrote to her swearing ‘on the Holy Gospels’ that he would ‘carry through successfully’ his promise to produce the elixir and would ‘hold no communication’ with Cecilia. But by the end of March, Waad believed that both de Lannoy and Cecilia were plotting to escape to the Netherlands.19 On discovering their designs de Lannoy and his laboratory were removed to the Tower. Yet still Elizabeth remained confident that the alchemist would fulfil his promises.20 Indeed Waad claimed that de Lannoy had already created the alchemical elixir and planned to take it with him. However, if de Lannoy could be caught as he made his escape, ‘her Majesty shall come by the Art [the method] and the thing itself’.21
Finally Princess Cecilia left for Sweden in April 1566, declaring that she was ‘glad enough to get out of this country’.22 De Lannoy remained under close surveillance, with Elizabeth and her councillors waiting anxiously for the elixir he had promised. In July he addressed a letter to the Queen:
I know how grievous this delay must be to you. I have nothing to offer you in this kingdom but my life, which would be a heavy loss to my innocent wife. As to the business of transmuting metals and precious gems to greater perfection, either the work has been disturbed or some wicked man had been present, or I have erred through syncopation. Pray permit me to write to my friends for help, for I can indubitably perform what I have promised.23
De Lannoy’s attempts to prove his innocence failed and in July 1566 he was confined to the Tower of London charged with having ‘greatly abused her Majesty’.24 Waad was sent to examine the alchemist and reported that de Lannoy admitted having made mistakes, but only because of the demands of haste from the Queen, Cecil and Dudley.25 In desperate letters, de Lannoy assured them that if he was allowed to write to his friends for help, he would be able to fulfil his promises within a month and produce a ‘medicine’ capable of producing over thirty million times its own weight in gold.26
After leaving the distressed alchemist to stew for several weeks, Cecil wrote to Waad and Sir Francis Jobson, the Lieutenant of the Tower, ordering them to arrange the immediate resumption of de Lannoy’s alchemical operations within the Tower and his furnaces were moved there.27 But it appears that de Lannoy continued to deceive Cecil and the Queen, and by early 1567, Cecil’s patience was exhausted. Again de Lannoy defended his process and promised the Principal Secretary that he would ‘transmute lead into gold with only a further two days’ work’.28 It was all too late. In
February, Cecil recorded in his diary that Cornelius de Lannoy had been imprisoned for ‘abusing the Q[ueen’s] Majesty in Somerset House in promising to make the Elixir’ and ‘to convert any Metal into Gold’.29
While Cecil continued to urge the patronage of other alchemists, Elizabeth was reluctant to pursue another alchemical dream; as Cecil explained, she ‘will in no wise hear of such offers, which she thinketh are but chargeable without Fruit’.30
19
Barren Stock
On New Year’s Day 1566 the announcement was made at the Scottish court that Mary Queen of Scots was pregnant.1 She was in her third month. Whilst Elizabeth had been waiting for de Lannoy to produce his elixir of unlimited riches and eternal life to secure her hold on the English throne, her Scottish rival’s pregnancy now promised a more certain outcome. Queen Mary was now twenty-three, married and pregnant. Elizabeth was thirty-two, with no prospect of a match and with her childbearing years fading fast. The Queen reacted by urgently reviving marriage negotiations with the Archduke Charles, and by sending an envoy to encourage him to visit England.2 Around the same time, de Silva reported that he had received information so ‘strange and fickle’, that the Queen had expressed a renewed interest in the French match with Charles IX, King of France.3
But as Mary continued in her pregnancy, her relationship with Lord Darnley grew ever more embittered. As Randolph wrote on 13 February, ‘I know now for certain that this Queen repenteth her marriage, that she hateth the King and all his kin.’4 Darnley had proved to be a violent drunkard and he had become convinced that David Rizzio, Mary’s Italian secretary with whom Darnley himself ‘would lie sometime in one bed together’, was the father of Mary’s unborn child.5 On Saturday 9 March, fuelled with alcohol and murderous ambition, Darnley led a group of nobles into Mary’s Bedchamber where they found Rizzio and fatally stabbed him with their daggers. A murder had been committed at the very heart of the royal palace.