The Queen travelled either on horseback, in an open, horse-drawn litter padded with cushions, or - from 1564, when this mode of transport was first introduced into England from Holland - in an uncomfortable, unsprung, twelve-wheeled coach of red leather studded with gilt nails, seating only two persons. Two empty litters accompanied her in case of accidents or them being required by her ladies. Behind Elizabeth stretched her retinue of about five hundred people and an endless procession of 2,400 horses and 400-600 carts laden with clothing and jewellery, provisions, household effects, state papers and tents for those servants who could not be accommodated in the houses they would visit.

Elizabeth's energy never flagged during these exhausting journeys, and she expected her courtiers to show the same enthusiasm. Most councillors resented the enormous expense involved - which Cecil estimated at around 2000 a year - and did their best to persuade the Queen to abandon her plans, but she persisted right up to the last year of her life. In 1601, when her courtiers were moaning about the prospect of yet another long progress, the sixty-eight-year-old Queen told 'the old to stay behind and the young and able go with her'.

In Elizabeth's opinion, going on progress saved on expenditure, since the cost of maintaining her court was being borne by her subjects, although she was careful never to exploit those who could not afford the expense, and the Exchequer and the Revels Office often contributed. But her officials resented the vast amount of preparation and upheaval that these progresses entailed, which mirrored the preparations for royal tours today. The Vice-Chamberlain would draw up the itinerary in consultation with the Queen, and would then make direct arrangements with civic dignitaries, sheriffs and potential hosts. Then the royal harbinger and two ushers of the Bedchamber would inspect the 248.

accommodation set aside for the Queen. The route would be decided and checked for safety and security. Then there was endless packing to be done.

The Queen began her progresses almost at the beginning of her reign, and undertook them roughly every two years during the 1 560s. Their golden age was the 1570s, when their organisation had been brought to a fine art. Security dictated restrictions on progresses during the 1580s, but there was a revival in the 1590s when the ageing Queen seemed determined to prove that she was as sprightly as she had been in her youth.

There is no doubt that her progresses contributed to Elizabeth's popularity. A vast train of officials and servants, many colourfully attired, accompanied the court, and a splendid spectacle they made for the crowds who flocked to see the Queen along the way. The poor folk would drop to their knees and cry out, 'God save Your Majesty!' People were encouraged to come forward and speak with the Queen or hand her petitions, and everyone would be amazed at how accessible and friendly their sovereign could be.

A contemporary recorded: In her progress she was most easy to be approached; private persons and magistrates, country people and children came joyfully and without any fear to wait upon her. Her ears were then open to the complaints of the afflicted, and of those that had been in any way injured. She took with her own hand and read with the greatest goodness the petitions of the meanest rustics, and she would frequently assure them that she would take a particular care of their affairs; and she would ever be as good as her word. She was never angry with the uncourtly approach, never offended with the most impudent or importunate petitioner. Nor was there anything in the whole course of her reign that more won the hearts of the people than this, her wonderful condescension and strange sweetness.

On one occasion, an eager Serjeant Bendlowes of Huntingdon bellowed at Elizabeth's coachman, '"Stay thy cart, good fellow! Stay thy cart, that I may speak with the Queen!" Whereat Her Majesty laughed as [if] she had been tickled, although very graciously, as her manner is, she gave him great thanks and her hand to kiss.' It was not unknown for her to accept an impromptu invitation to go into a nearby house for some refreshments.

'She was received everywhere with great acclamations and signs of joy', wrote the Spanish ambassador in 1568, 'whereat she was extremely pleased, and told me so, giving me to understand how beloved she was 249.

by her subjects and how highly she esteemed this. She ordered her carriage sometimes to be taken where the crowd seemed thickest, and stood up and thanked the people.'

Royal visits to towns and cities invariably boosted trade and industry. When news came that Elizabeth was to visit a town, the inhabitants threw themselves into enthusiastic preparations: No sooner was pronounced the name, But babes in street 'gan leap; The youth, the aged, the rich, the poor, Came running all on heap, And clapping hands, and calling out, 'O blessed be the hour!

Our Queen is coming to the town With princely train and power.'

Tapestries and painted cloths or green boughs would be hung at the windows, speeches prepared, streets cleaned of rubbish and sometimes newly gravelled, and a cup of silver gilt purchased as a gift for the Queen.

At Coventry in 1565, the Queen declared herself touched by a gift of - 100 in gold coins in a cup.

'I have but few such gifts,' she said.

'If it pleases Your Grace', declared the mayor, 'there is a great deal more in it.' Elizabeth asked what he meant.

'It is the hearts of all your loving subjects,' was the reply.

'We thank you, Mr Mayor, it is a great deal more indeed,' agreed the Queen.

At Sandwich, in 1579, she paid the magistrates' wives a great compliment when, without employing a food taster, she sampled some of the 160 dishes they had prepared for her and even ordered some to be taken to her lodgings so that she could eat them later.

During these progresses the Queen made at least 240 overnight stops, some at her own manors, although it was more usual for her to seek the hospitality of her wealthier subjects or civic dignitaries. 'When it pleaseth her in the summer season to recreate herself abroad, or view the estates of the country, every nobleman's house is her palace,' observed the writer William Harrison. In total, she was the guest of over 150 different people.

The Queen herself was lodged 'for her best ease and liking, far from heat or noise', whilst lesser folk had to take pot luck with what was available, since very few houses had room for the entire court. Sometimes, she arrived late, causing her hosts to spend a small fortune 250.

in candle wax. The court could also consume alarming quantities of food. Such visits could last for days and financially cripple the host: in 1577, it cost Sir Nicholas Bacon 577 to entertain the Queen for four days at Gorhambury, near St Albans, while in 1591 Cecil was poorer by over 1000 after Elizabeth had stayed for ten days at Burghley House near Stamford.

In 1600, Sir Henry Lee, who had twice entertained the Queen, wrote to Cecil to say he had heard that 'Her Majesty threatens a progress,' and that she would be 'coming to my house, of which I would be most proud'; however, 'My estate without my undoing cannot bear it.' In that same year, the Earl of Lincoln, on receiving warning that the Queen was advancing on his Chelsea home, fled to the country, and when she arrived the house was locked. Naturally Elizabeth was much offended by this, and declared her firm intention of returning the following week to dine with the Earl. Cecil and Nottingham informed Lincoln that they would make all the arrangements, and then presented him with the bill, which shook him badly. Nevertheless most courtiers deemed a royal visit a signal honour and welcomed the chance to have the Queen stay as their guest, while towns competed to be placed on her itinerary. There were bitter complaints from would-be hosts who were passed by.

The entertainments laid on for the Queen at the great houses were lavish and varied. Hosts vied to outdo each other in offering novel and extravagant attractions. At Beddington Park in Surrey, Sir Francis Carew delayed the flowering of a cherry tree by covering it with a tent, so that out-of-season cherries - a fruit which symbolised virginity -might be served to the Queen. Another host concealed an orchestra in an artificial cave. There were pageants, fetes, banquets, masques, plays, dances, acrobatics, firework displays, tableaux, songs, rustic pastimes and wonderful opportunities for hunting. Many entertainments had allegorical themes, often celebrating the Virgin Queen. Also popular were Greek and Roman myths peopled by gods and goddesses, nymphs and satyrs, as well as characters from the Arthurian legends, mermaids and fairies. Some of the plays and verses were commissioned from the best writers of the age, including George Gascoigne and John Lyly. The legendary entertainments at Kenilworth in 1575, of which more will be heard later, were the most magnificent and memorable - and expensive- of the reign.

The great men of the realm built spacious houses especially designed for entertaining the Queen whilst on progress. Such a one was Cecil's Theobalds in Essex, where he entertained his mistress thirteen times. Elizabeth advised on the design and asked that the state bedchamber be adorned with artificial trees and an astronomical clock on the ceiling. There were five galleries in which she could walk if the weather were 251.

inclement, or four gardens when it was fine. Sir Christopher Hatton modelled his great mansion at Holdenby on Theobalds, and it became the largest house in the kingdom after Hampton Court. There is little doubt that the Queen inspired him to build it, as it was dedicated to her. These houses cost so much that Cecil wrote to Hatton, 'God send us long to enjoy her, for whom we both meant to exceed our purse in these.' In fact, the Treasury defrayed some of the cost of building. Sadly, both houses were demolished after falling into decay during the Civil War.

It was virtually obligatory for hosts to provide the Queen with a series of costly gifts, which added considerably to the expense. At Kew in 1598, Lord Keeper Egerton gave her a jewelled fan and a diamond pendant on her arrival at his house, followed by a pair of virginals at dinner, and there was 'a fine gown and skirt' waiting for her in her bedchamber. Not content with this, she intimated she would also like a salt, spoon and fork of agate, which he readily gave her on parting. Hosts were also expected to give presents to the Queen's entourage, whilst pilfering by courtiers and servants was common, despite Elizabeth's insistence that their conduct be impeccable. Nevertheless, most of those who had entertained the Queen treasured the memories of her visit.

Elizabeth was usually in a carefree, holiday mood during her progresses: she was 'well pleased with all things' and 'made very merry', expressing 'an extreme delight' at what was done for her pleasure, however humble. She sat patiently through interminable speeches of welcome, never betraying any impatience, and expressed fulsome thanks for the smallest of gifts. She always found something to praise, as when she called St Mary Redcliffe in Bristol 'the finest and goodliest parish church in England'. Assisted by Cecil, she always did her homework before making such visits. She was, however, inclined to alter her travel plans at a moment's notice, thereby putting some of her hosts to considerable inconvenience and prompting many complaints. In 1582, Lord and Lady Norris were deeply upset when the Queen was obliged to cancel a visit to Rycote. For more fortunate gentlefolk, she was usually a congenial guest, although being served sour beer could provoke a black mood, and she was not above making adverse comments about defects in the accommodation.

Some hosts were completely overawed by the Queen's presence. Cecil's secretary, Michael Hicks, had prepared a well-rehearsed welcoming speech, but when Elizabeth arrived at his house, 'Her Majesty's royal presence and princely aspect did on a sudden so daunt all my senses and dazzle mine eyes, as I had use neither of speech nor memory.' The Queen could not understand why her host had been struck dumb, but 'in her princely favour, said it pleased her to like of my 252.

house. I know I shall like the worse of myself as long as I live,' Hicks added ruefully.

In order for her subjects to share in the delights of her progresses, the Queen publicised them by having accounts printed after her return. Such pamphlets were hugely popular, and served - as they were intended to do - to enhance the legend of the Virgin Queen.

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Chapter 15.

'The Axe Must Be the Next Warning'

On 25 February 1571, Elizabeth created Cecil First Baron Burghley in recognition of his services to the Crown. Her inner circle of advisers now comprised Burghley, Sussex, Leicester and Walsingham. While Cecil was shrewd and cautious, Leicester was impulsive and militant; he and Walsingham were natural allies because of their devotion to the Protestant cause, and were to become even closer after the death from pleurisy of Leicester's friend, Sir Nicholas Throckmorton, that same month.

However, while Burghley and Sussex supported a marriage between the Queen and the Duke of Anjou, Leicester did not, although he pretended otherwise. His colleagues were in no doubt that, in the wake of the papal interdict, England stood in dangerous isolation in Europe, and needed the friendship of of a strong ally like France. The French, although they deplored Elizabeth's treatment of Mary Stuart, feared the Spanish presence in the Netherlands as much as did the English, and they saw the sense of joining with Elizabeth in a defensive alliance. Charles IX wanted support against the increasing threat of the Guises, and also hoped to deter the Queen from aiding his own Huguenot subjects. a strong ally like France. The French, although they deplored Elizabeth's treatment of Mary Stuart, feared the Spanish presence in the Netherlands as much as did the English, and they saw the sense of joining with Elizabeth in a defensive alliance. Charles IX wanted support against the increasing threat of the Guises, and also hoped to deter the Queen from aiding his own Huguenot subjects.

Elizabeth, who, according to Leicester, was 'more bent to marriage than heretofore she hath been', could see the wisdom in this, and that February she sent her cousin Lord Buckhurst to Paris, ostensibly to congratulate Charles on his marriage, but chiefly secretly to inform the French that she 'thankfully accepted' their proposals and was ready to treat with them over the marriage. This news delighted King Charles, who wanted his unstable, ambitious and meddling brother safely out of the country before the Guises could get him into their clutches. The thankless task of negotiating the marriage was left to Walsingham, England's resident ambassador in Paris.

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'If I be not much deceived', noted Burghley, 'Her Majesty is earnest in this.' If the marriage went ahead, 'the curious and dangerous question of the succession would in the minds of quiet subjects be buried - a happy funeral for all England'.

Yet from the first it was obvious that religion was going to be a major obstacle. Elizabeth insisted that Anjou convert to the Anglican faith, while he, a fervent Catholic who was influenced by the Papal Nuncio and the Cardinal of Lorraine, refused to violate his conscience even for the hope of a kingdom.

Anjou, who was unenthusiastic about the match, complained to his mother that he feared he would be universally ridiculed if he took such a notorious bride. When an anxious Catherine de' Medici asked Fenelon to make discreet inquiries at the English court in order to discover if the rumours were true, the ambassador reported back that he had heard nothing to justify them, and Anjou reluctantly had to agree to negotiations proceeding. It was not surprising that they speedily reached an impasse.

That same February saw the arrival in London of the Earl of Morton and other commissioners from James VI, come to make it clear to the Queen that the Scots did not want her to press for Mary Stuart's restoration. In fact, Elizabeth now had no intention of doing so, for since the Pope had issued the Bull of Excommunication, she had become far less enthusiastic about having a troublesome Catholic monarch as her near neighbour, although she affected to be offended by James's impertinence.

The realisation that Elizabeth would now do nothing to help her soon filtered through to Mary, who declared to her friend, the Bishop of Ross, that 'our good sister must pardon us if, seeing no further deliverance to be had at her hand', she looked to foreign princes for help. If intrigue could secure her liberation, and hopefully the crown of England, that was the course she was now obliged to take. Indeed, she was already involved in one of the most dangerous plots of Elizabeth's reign.

Since the collapse of the Northern Rising, nothing had been heard of Roberto Ridolfi, the Florentine banker who doubled as a papal agent, until in January 1571 he had written to Mary offering to act as her representative in the courts of Europe, where he would be well placed to stir up support for her. He had conceived a plan whereby the Catholic powers would invade England, overthrow Elizabeth, and set Mary and Norfolk up in her place; already, King Philip and the Pope had agreed in principle to support it. Now he needed the consent of Mary herself.

Mary, after obtaining the Pope's approval, was only too happy to give it: this was what she had been praying for. She told Ridolfi to inform A.

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her friends that, if they did invade England, they could expect the support of many influential lords, and provided him with credentials issued by herself to show King Philip, the Pope and the Duke of Alva.

Mary still cherished hopes of Norfolk. While he languished in the Tower, she had written to him to persuade him that they should still marry when it became possible: 'You have promised to be mine, and I yours. I believe the Queen of England and country should like of it. You promised you would not leave me.' Even Norfolk could not have believed now that Elizabeth would welcome such a marriage, and he had, on his release, promised the Queen that he would 'never deal in the cause of the marriage of the Queen of Scots'. However, as with many men before and after him, she continued to exert a fatal fascination for him.

On 8 February 1571, Mary wrote to Norfolk, outlining Ridolfi's plans and inviting him to join the conspiracy. The Duke had no desire to become involved, at great danger to himself, in what was undoubtedly high treason. He was also alarmed at Mary's insistence that he become a Catholic. By 10 March, however, Mary had worn down his resistance, and, driven by the hope of a crown, he met Ridolfi in secret and offered his help and support. When he refused to sign a written request for men and supplies to King Philip, Ridolfi simply forged his name on the document.

Two weeks later, Ridolfi left for Rome, where the Pope was pleased to bless his enterprise.

In April, Burghley's agents in Scotland reported that they had evidence that the Queen of Scots was corresponding with the Duke of Alva. This could only mean trouble, and Shrewsbury was instructed to keep careful watch on Mary's doings.

Confirmation of the government's fears came soon afterwards, when the Grand Duke of Tuscany, whose court Ridolfi had visited en route to Rome, wrote to warn Burghley that the banker was involved in a conspiracy concerning the Queen of Scots. After that, Shrewsbury closely questioned Mary about her involvement with foreign courts, but she denied all knowledge of what he was talking about. Nevertheless, he remained vigilant, since the government were hopeful that she would incriminate herself and thus give them an excuse to proceed against her.

When Parliament reassembled in May 1571, its priority was to preempt any Catholic plots and tighten national security, and three Acts were passed. From now on, it would be high treason to say that Elizabeth was not the lawful Queen of England, or to publish, write or say that she was a heretic, infidel, schismatic, tyrant or usurper. It would also be treason for anyone to bring a papal Bull into the realm. Crucifixes, rosaries and religious pictures were banned, and Catholics 256.

who had fled abroad were ordered to return within six months or forfeit all their possessions.

Life was becoming exceedingly difficult for English Catholics. Forbidden to practise their religion, they were fined if they did not attend Anglican services. They had to be careful how they spoke of the Queen, and, in the political climate following the papal interdict, many people regarded Catholics as little better than traitors because of their faith. Some did look to Mary Stuart for deliverance, although their numbers were not so great as King Philip, the Pope and Mary herself fondly supposed. In fact, the majority of English Catholics were loyal to Elizabeth.

At the end of June, Ridolfi was warmly received by Philip II in Madrid. By now, the details of the plot had been finalised: the Duke of Alva would invade England with 6000 Spanish troops from the Netherlands, and would then march on London and occupy it. Simultaneously, Norfolk would incite loyal English Catholics to rise up against Elizabeth, who would be seized by the Duke and either assassinated or held as a hostage for Mary's safety. Mary would be liberated and proclaimed Queen of England, then she and Norfolk would marry and in time reign as joint sovereigns over England and Scotland, to which kingdoms they would restore the Catholic faith.

There were fatal weaknesses in the scheme, the chief one being that Ridolfi, like most Catholics, vastly overestimated the number of English Catholics who would be willing to rise on Mary's behalf- he believed there would be 39,000. The Florentine banker had no real understanding of English politics or the English people, and Norfolk, who should have had both, was either too gullible or too blinded by ambition to point out the flaws.

It was left to the Duke of Alva to veto the plan. Alva, who had scathingly dismissed Ridolfi as 'that great chatterbox', was convinced that the invasion would fail, and that, if it did, it would do irrevocable harm to Catholicism in general as well as to Mary's cause, and might well cost her her life. He refused point blank to use his troops in the enterprise, knowing that without them, Philip was powerless to help the Queen of Scots. Throughout the summer, the other conspirators tried to persuade Alva to change his mind, but with no success.

Leicester was still riding high. In July, a court had finally overturned his 1554 conviction for treason and cleared his name. In future, his enemies would be unwise to call him a traitor. But although he remained closer to the Queen than anyone else, he now had rivals for her affections. His friend, Sir Thomas Heneage, still enjoyed Elizabeth's favour, and there was a newcomer on the court scene, Christopher Hatton.

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Born around 1540, Hatton was the son of a Northamptonshire squire, and had been educated at Oxford and the Inner Temple, where Elizabeth is said to have watched him dancing in the masque Gorboduc Gorboduc in 1562. It was his elegant dancing and his dashing skill in the tiltyard that captivated her interest after Hatton had been appointed one of her Gentlemen Pensioners in 1564. Thereafter, he rose rapidly to favour, receiving grants of land and court offices, and becoming a Gentleman of the Privy Chamber in 1569 and MP for Northampton in 1571. In 1572 the Queen would appoint him Captain of the Gentlemen Pensioners, her personal bodyguard, which meant that his duties would keep him in constant attendance upon her. in 1562. It was his elegant dancing and his dashing skill in the tiltyard that captivated her interest after Hatton had been appointed one of her Gentlemen Pensioners in 1564. Thereafter, he rose rapidly to favour, receiving grants of land and court offices, and becoming a Gentleman of the Privy Chamber in 1569 and MP for Northampton in 1571. In 1572 the Queen would appoint him Captain of the Gentlemen Pensioners, her personal bodyguard, which meant that his duties would keep him in constant attendance upon her.

By 1571, he had become one of Elizabeth's intimates and been given a nickname. Where Leicester was her 'Eyes', Hatton was her 'Lids'. Later she would call him her 'Mutton' or her 'Bellwether'.

Hatton was the ideal courtier. According to Naunton, he was 'tall and portionable', while Nicholas Hilliard called him 'one of the goodliest personages of England'. He was strikingly handsome with dark hair and eyes, but it was his robust masculine charms and his passionate address that endeared him to Elizabeth. When he wrote to her, it was as a lover, sometimes ending his letters with a pun: 'Adieu, most sweet Lady. All and EveR yours, your most happy bondman, Lids.'

Once, after being parted from her for only two days, he wrote: No death, no, not hell, shall ever win of me my consent so far to wrong myself again as to be absent from you one day. I lack that I live by. The more I find this lack, the further I go from you. To serve you is heaven, but to lack you is more than hell's torment. Would God I were with you but for one hour. My wits are overwrought with thoughts. I find myself amazed. Bear with me, my most dear, sweet Lady. Passion overcometh me. I can write no more. Love me, for I love you. Live for ever.

Hatton flattered his Queen with compliments and unusual gifts, and made love to her with his eyes. His whole life was dedicated to paying court to her, and unlike her other suitors, he remained unmarried for her sake, to her great gratification, although whether she knew that he found his sexual pleasures elsewhere and was the father of a bastard daughter is another matter.

Leicester was naturally jealous of Hatton, and tried to belittle him in the Queen's eyes. When she praised Hatton's dancing, Leicester told her he could send her a dancing master who could do far better.

'Pish!' she snorted, unimpressed. 'I will not see your man. It is histradeV 258.

The Lift of Elizabeth I Leicester was further discountenanced by her fondness for the dashing young Edward de Were, Earl of Oxford, who had, like Hatton, commended himself to her by his skill at jousting. Something of a free spirit, Oxford was well-educated in the classics, skilled in dancing and playing the virginals, and a superb horseman - qualities guaranteed to endear him to the Queen, who also appreciated the young man's slender figure and hazel eyes.

Everyone expected the Earl to become one of the court's brightest stars, and Leicester's enemies fervently hoped that Oxford would displace the favourite. When Oxford married Anne Cecil, Burghley's daughter, at Westminster Abbey, the Queen attended and bestowed on him a nickname - her 'Boar'. However, he soon lost interest in his fifteen-year-old bride, and grew weary of life at court, indulging his passion for adventure overseas. Although the Queen 'delighteth more in his personage and his dancing and valiantness than any other', there was no likelihood of his ever achieving entry to her inner circle, since he could 'by no means be drawn to follow the court'. 'If it were not for his fickle head, he would pass any of them shortly,' observed a contemporary.

Until March 1571, only the Queen's inner circle had known about the proposed French marriage, and when, that month, she had informed the Council of her intention to marry the Duke of Anjou, her councillors had been pleasantly surprised. As Burghley put it, such a marriage would make 'the Pope's malice vanish away in smoke'. Remembering the fate of earlier marriage projects, however, the councillors were only cautiously optimistic, and one had caused great offence to the Queen when he tactlessly asked if the Duke were not too young to be her husband.

Soon afterwards, Catherine de' Medici sent a special envoy, Guido Cavalcanti, to England with a formal proposal of marriage from Anjou, a flattering portrait of him, and a list of demands: the Duke must be permitted to practise the Catholic faith, he was to be crowned King of England on the day after the wedding, and the English Exchequer was to pay him an annual income of - 60,000 for life. Elizabeth made difficulties about all these conditions: she would not agree to the Duke being crowned, nor to granting him a life income, and while she conceded that he would not be compelled to attend Anglican services, she refused to allow him to attend mass, even in private.

Unsurprisingly, little progress was made during the spring and summer, and, worst still, reports reached the Queen that the Duke, encouraged by his friends, was reluctant to proceed and, having heard of her varicose ulcer, had even publicly referred to her as 'an old creature 259.

with a sore leg'. Queen Catherine officially apologised for her son's rudeness, but for some times afterwards Elizabeth, sensitive about growing old, took pains to dance in public before Fenelon. She hoped, she said pointedly, that Monsieur would have no cause to complain that he had been tricked into marrying a lame bride.

Yet the age gap did concern her, and she confided as much in private to her ladies, but when Lady Cobham advised her against pressing ahead with her marriage plans because of the 'great inequality' in age, the Queen was much affronted and retorted, 'There are but ten years between us!' Lady Cobham dared not contradict her.

Angered that Anjou was proving so reluctant a suitor, Elizabeth created more difficulties over the marriage contract, at one point even demanding the return of Calais as one of its conditions. Burghley warned Walsingham that she seemed to be deliberately insisting on terms to which the French would never agree. In Europe, diplomats were equally confused, and in Spain it was believed that Elizabeth would not go through with the marriage, since she was only pretending an interest in it to raise French support. 'She will no more marry Anjou than she will marry me!' commented the Duke de Feria.

On 7 June, the Venetian ambassador in Paris reported, 'It is the opinion of many that the negotiations will be successful.' Yet Anjou was still insisting he would change his religion for no one, and by July, Walsingham was very pessimistic. Burghley, knowing that public feeling was in favour of the marriage, tried to persuade Elizabeth to permit the Duke to at least attend mass in private, but she declared that her conscience would not permit her to sanction any Catholic service to be held in England. She failed to see, she continued disingenuously, why the Duke could not worship as an Anglican without hurt to his conscience.

Burghley despaired at Elizabeth's attitude. Marriage to a French prince seemed the only sure means of protecting herself and England from the malice of the Papacy and Spain, yet she seemed to be doing her best to wreck negotiations. Walsingham and Leicester, however, believing that Anjou was pretending to be a more zealous Catholic than he actually was, felt that the French would at length make concessions and that the Queen was justified in taking a stand. Burghley, bitterly disappointed at Leicester's defection, believed that the Earl's sole objective was to marry the Queen himself. Certainly he had secretly advised the French to stand firm on the matter of the mass.

In August, the Queen Mother of France sent another special envoy, Paul de Foix, to London, to add his pleas to Burghley's, but still Elizabeth was adamant that she would make no concessions. It now seemed that she was up to her usual game of playing for time, and 260.

stringing out negotiations without having any intention of reaching a happy conclusion. Realising this, Burghley wearily advised her on 31 August that he would instruct her Council to devise other means for her preservation, although 'How Your Majesty shall obtain remedies for your perils, I think is only in the knowledge of Almighty God.'

By September, when de Foix returned dejectedly to France, Leicester, who knew Elizabeth better than anyone, was forced to conclude, as he told Walsingham, that 'Her Majesty's heart is nothing inclined to marry at all, for the matter was ever brought to as many points as we could devise, and always she was bent to hold with the difficultest.' That month, it was reported by the Venetian ambassador in Paris that the Anjou marriage negotiations had foundered, although the 'good understanding' between England and France might yet lead to an alliance.

In view of the intelligence he had received about the Ridolfi conspiracy, Burghley advised the Queen that it would be unwise to go on progress as usual, but she would not listen. She even stayed at Norfolk's house at Walden in Essex on 24 August.

Two days later, at a time when it was obvious to most of the conspirators that Ridolfi's invasion plan was unworkable, the game was up for Norfolk when a suspicious courier reported him to the authorities for sending money and letters in cipher to Mary's friends in Scotland. The Queen's reaction was angry, and the Duke was arrested on a charge of high treason on 3 September, being 'quietly brought into the Tower without any trouble' at midnight on the 7th. On the following day, government agents found a bundle of incriminating letters in cipher hidden below the roof tiles of the Charterhouse, Norfolk's London residence.

In the meantime, news had arrived of the murder of the Regent Lennox on 4 September at Stirling Castle, in revenge for his hanging of Archbishop Hamilton. To Elizabeth's relief, he was replaced by her own candidate, the Earl of Mar.

By 11 October, after the Queen had signed an order for his servants to be tortured to make them give evidence, Norfolk had confessed to his part in the plot, although he strenuously denied that he had meant to harm the Queen. Those questioning him concluded that it was his 'foolish devotion to that woman' that had been his motivation. Later, he made a written confession of his crimes.

On 24 October, despite claiming diplomatic immunity, the Bishop of Ross, who had remained in England as Mary's official envoy after her imprisonment, was committed to the Tower, where, threatened with the rack, he revealed all he knew, which was sufficient to bring both 261.

Picture captions: Elizabeth I at her accession 'An air of dignified majesty pervades all her actions.'

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Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, attr. to Steven van Meulen 'Lord Robert does whatever he likes with affairs.'

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William Cecil, Lord Burghley 'No prince in Europe hath such a counsellor.'

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Lord Darnley and Mary Queen of Scots 'The Queen of Scots is a dangerous person.'

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Philip II of Spain and Mary 'Sometimes it is necessary for princes to do what displeases them.'

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Lettice Knollys, Countess of Leicester 'One of the best-looking ladies of the court.'