PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT
The move to Sheffield was now abandoned because of the desperate
excitement aroused in Elizabeth’s mind by the disclosure of the love
affair which was brewing between Mary and the Duke of Norfolk. This
matter for some time was not entirely a secret. A certain number of
influential English nobles agreed with those of Scotland that such a
marriage would be an excellent solution of the entire Scottish question.
Even Leicester himself, adored of Elizabeth, joined his opinion to
theirs. And these gentlemen had drawn up a proposal to Mary of which one
clause runs, “Whether, touching her marriage with the Duke of Norfolk
which had been moved to her by the Earl of Moray and Lidington, she
would wholly refer herself to the Queen’s Majesty and therein do as she
would have her and as her Majesty did like thereof—willing that all
things should be done for her Majesty’s surety, which might be best
advised by the whole Council.”
Her reply to this document, especially to the clause quoted, was clear,
dignified, and highly emphatic. She did not doubt the English Queen’s
good faith, nor the friendship of her nobles, nor the goodwill and
liking of the Duke. She adroitly declared that she never regarded
marriage as a mere means to recover power and position, saying, “I
assure you that if either men or money to have reduced my rebels to
their due obedience could have ticed me I could have been provided of a
husband ere now. But I ... did never give ear to any such offer.” She
fully calculated what she would lose by this marriage in regard to all
her “friends beyond the seas.” The Duke of Alva was trying to secure her
co-operation in the invasion of England. She was coquetting with the
Duke of Anjou. She was writing to Rome. By the document she had signed
she laid aside all future schemes, while she could still nourish the
secret hope that, once restored to the Scottish throne in place of her
baby son, she would, in default of Elizabeth’s marriage, inherit the
throne of England. The whole matter was now on such a broad and amicable
footing that apparently nothing was wanting but the longed-for “Bless
you, my children” from the lips of Elizabeth.
By September this dream was rudely dispelled. Norfolk was summoned to
Court, roundly abused—Elizabeth, as one of her courtiers writes of her,
could “storme passinglie”—and poor Shrewsbury received a severe snub.
The Queen practically declared him a useless gaoler: “I have found no
reliance on my Lord Shrewsbury in the hour of my need, for all the fine
speeches he made me formerly, yet I can in no wise depend on his
promise.” Therefore she added two guards—the Earl of Huntingdon and
Viscount Hereford.
More household complications, more goings and comings, more trouble for
Earl and Countess! Afflicted with chronic gout and irritated in every
direction, Shrewsbury decided to make for Tutbury again. A tactless
royal order addressed to Huntingdon (whom Mary also hated) over the head
of Shrewsbury bred fresh discomfort and annoyance in the Castle. Things
were, however, gradually smoothed over. The jealousy between Mary’s
gaolers was allayed on the one hand by the news that the Queen’s
apprehensions were justified by the disappearance of the Duke of Norfolk
from Court, while the alarm of Mary was increased fourfold by the
cross-questioning to which she was subjected and the news of the sudden
arrest of her ducal lover.
These were dramatic days which Bess of Shrewsbury witnessed. Letters
were intercepted, coffers suddenly searched in the Scots Queen’s
apartments, there were incursions of men with “pistolets,” constant
dismissals of the Queen’s people, sudden dismissal, even, of the
Countess’s own servants. But the gaps at the board were immediately
filled by Huntingdon and his retinue, for whom the Shrewsburys were
expected to provide without any increase of allowance, on the score that
the present numbers of the household did not exceed those at Wingfield
and elsewhere. The irony of this, added to the suggestions that the Earl
had been too kind to his prisoner, and that his request to be allowed to
deal as before with Mary without the assistance of any other officer,
sprang from some person or persons “too much affectionated to her,”
created havoc in Shrewsbury’s mind. Of course he visited his anger on
his colleague Huntingdon in the form of morose hints. In that atmosphere
of wholesale suspicion he could not speak out except in a letter to
head-quarters. He knew that Elizabeth’s sinister expressions implied
suspicions of his Countess. It is difficult to understand exactly what
this lady was “after,” in the vulgar phrase, at this moment. For Mary,
with whom she had hitherto been on excellent terms, now distrusted her
also. She expressed this distrust _tout au plat_, as she would say, to
Walsingham in October, and told him not to attach any credit “to the
schemes and accusations of the Countess who is now with you.” Apparently
my Lady had left for the Court, and was there making good her case and
her husband’s. As likely as not she was furiously jealous of the
authority wrested from her husband in favour of Huntingdon, and
overwrought, like everyone else, by the acute tension of the situation.
Henceforward in the correspondence with Cecil sturdy disclaimers of
treason on the part of Earl and lady are always cropping up. The
following is from Shrewsbury to Cecil, October, 1569:—
“Sir,—I have received your letter, thinking myself beholden unto you for
your friendly care over me. I hear to my grief that suspicion is had of
over much goodwill borne by my wife to this Queen and of untrue dealing
by my men. For my wife thus must I say, she hath not otherwise dealt
with that Queen than I have been privy unto and that I have had liking
of, and by my appointment hath so dealt that I have been the more able
to discharge the trust committed unto me. And if she for her dutiful
dealing to her Majesty and true meaning to me should be suspected that I
am sure hath so well deserved, she and I might think ourselves
fortunate. And where I perceive her Majesty is let to understand that by
my wife’s persuasion I am the more desirous to continue this charge, I
speak it afore God she hath been in hand with me as far as she durst and
more than I thought well of since my sickness to procure my discharge. I
am not to ...[16] by her otherwise than I think well of.”
From the close of this year till the execution of the Duke of Norfolk in
1572 the history of George Talbot and Bess Hardwick is bound up with the
story of the tissue of conspiracies which wound itself about Mary. The
Norfolk plot, with which Mary was to be drawn out of prison, was a stout
rope woven of many strands; the net which Cecil constructed for his prey
was close-meshed and wide-spreading. There were constant alarums and
excursions for the Earl and his people. He succeeded in getting rid of
Huntingdon, but he was incessantly in fear of a rising of the northern
nobles to whom Norfolk had appealed for their armed support; and when
this fear was realised and the armed Earls arrived within fifty odd
miles of Tutbury a hasty removal was necessary. Coventry was the only
place which suggested itself until the hostile demonstration fizzled out
and Tutbury could be regained.
The new year found the household re-established there. While Mary, in
poor health, acted as though she had no inkling of conspiracy, while the
Duke of Norfolk and the Bishop of Ross, her adviser, were in the Tower,
miniature plots again disturbed the tenor of existence, and for once the
Earl was permitted to choose his own road, and to remove his captive
with bag and baggage to Chatsworth.
This was a pleasanter place than Tutbury for the inditing of love
letters, as Mary found. But her Duke was a broken reed. He wanted to
leave the Tower, and to Elizabeth he vowed he would not marry her rival.
The summer passed on and the conditions of imprisonment at Chatsworth
fluctuated from “straitness” to indulgence according to the suspicions
of Elizabeth and the reports of those who were jealous spies of the
Earl’s slightest actions. Things assumed a more hopeful aspect in spite
of the discovery of another minor plot to free Mary by letting her down
from one of the windows of the Countess’s spacious and elegant
house—still unfinished. Elizabeth about this time actually contemplated
Mary’s freedom and her re-establishment as a sovereign; whereupon a
treaty to this end was carefully discussed!
Negotiations came to such a pass that Mr. Treasurer himself was
empowered to travel to Chatsworth and confer with the prisoner. He took
his wife with him, and between business and pleasure the visit passed
off well. Cecil wrote a long and complimentary “leaving letter” on
behalf of himself and his wife, chiefly interesting in this connection
because it indicates how Lady Shrewsbury played her part as hostess.
“We have fully satisfied her Majesty with the painful and trusty
behaviour of my Lady your wife in giving good regard to the surety of
the said Queen; wherein her Majesty surely seemed to us to be very glad,
and used many good words, both of your Lordship’s fidelity towards
herself, and of the love that she thought my Lady did bear to her....
And thus I humbly take my leave of your Lordship and my Lady, to whom my
wife hath written to give her thanks for certain tokens whereof I
understood nothing afore she told me of them; and sorry I am my Lady
should have bestowed such things as my wife cannot recompense as she
would, but with her hearty goodwill and service, which shall always be
ready to her favour and mine also: assuring yourself that to my
uttermost I will be to your Lordship and to my Lady as sure in good will
as any poor friend you have.”
[Illustration:
_From an engraving by W. T. Ryall, after the painting by Mark Gerard_
WILLIAM CECIL, LORD BURGHLEY
Page 80
]
Like all the schemes of Elizabeth the aforesaid treaty hung fire.
Suspense and disappointment had their usual result upon Mary. Once more
she fell ill. Had she died on their hands Earl and Countess would have
been open to the worst suspicions. They found themselves always out of
pocket in regard to her maintenance; they were themselves, obviously,
more or less prisoners in their own house; they had begged to be
released from “this charge.” In an age when poisonings were rife and
assassinations common they would have been suspected by all parties of
all sorts of foul play. Mary’s loyal gentleman, John Beton, the
prægustator, must have had enough to do at this time in tasting the
dishes for the daily menus. Shrewsbury meanwhile kept a sharp look-out
and at once suggested change of air. Mary, in spite of the pain in her
side, symptom of a chronic malady, and one which always attacked her
when she was the least out of health, was only too ready to move. This
time the destination was Sheffield—the castle.
Matters grew worse and worse in regard to the captive in spite of all
these precautions. Down came the Bishop of Ross—now set at liberty—and
the Court physician, while all the world knew that for this illness
there was but one cure—liberty. Only intrigue kept Mary alive at the
close of 1570. The rest of the spring and summer of 1571 witnessed her
return to the proposals to the Duke of Norfolk, the co-operation of
Ridolfi, the preparations by her Scottish partisans, the crystallisation
of the plan of invasion by Philip of Spain. The whole toil of this great
enterprise was nullified by the curiosity of a mere merchant, an
innocent messenger chosen to carry a bag of money destined to further
the plot. He mistrusted the contents, carried the bag to head-quarters,
and inside were the incriminating letters which led to the second
imprisonment of Norfolk and the gradual unravelling of the conspiracy.
During the lengthy process of examining the many people involved there
were uneasy moments for all sorts and conditions of men. It was a most
uncomfortable time for the Shrewsburys. It was open to any of their
dismissed servants who were arrested to inculpate their former
employers, and the latter were probably prepared for such contingencies.
Yet a letter like the following would descend upon the Countess somewhat
like a bombshell. The man Lascelles mentioned in it was an ex-servant
under arrest, and when threatened with torture pleaded guilty to the
charge, giving as excuse that what he did was known to the Countess.
“It may please your Ladyship,
“Where of late Bryan and Hersey Lascelles having been before my Lords of
her Majesty’s Council, it appeareth directly by the letters both of the
Queen of Scots and of the Duke of Norfolk also, that Hersey, as he
confessess also himself has been a dealer sometimes with the Queen there
by the means of his brother’s being in service there; and yet that his
dealing was not without knowledge of your Ladyship, to the end, as he
says, that the same might always be known. I have thought good to
advertise your Ladyship thereof, and withal to pray you to let me
understand the truth of such matter as your Ladyship doth know of the
said Hersey Lascelles’ dealings from time to time as particularly as
your Ladyship can remember. And so I take my leave of your Ladyship.
“From London, the 13th of October, 1571.
“Your Ladyship’s at commandment,
“W. BURGHLEY.
“To the right honourable and my very good Lady, the Countess of
Shrewsbury. Haste, haste, haste.”
A nice letter to receive on a serene autumn day! Carefully worded and
dignified though it is, it opens up vistas of suspicion and treachery.
The Countess was away, and her lord had to bear the first brunt of it
alone. Perhaps this was just as well, as it gave him a chance of
clearing their honour independently. For, of course, he recognised in it
an urgent official document. The reading must have cost him a bad
quarter of an hour. There was no time to be lost in again asserting his
wife’s integrity. A few seconds of miserable suspense would possibly
ensue ere his trust and loyalty conquered all fears, and he sat down to
write first to his wife, enclosing the letter from Court, and then to
tell Burleigh that some serious misconstruction must have been placed on
the fact that he always empowered his lady to interest herself in such
persons as Lascelles and his doings, the better to keep her spouse
apprised of Mary’s plots: “I willed my wife to deal with him and others
to whom the Queen bears familiar countenance, so as the better to learn
her intentions.” To this he adds a diplomatic postscript, assuring
Burleigh that this letter is penned independently of any collusion with
his wife.
The Countess, fenced in by consciousness of innocence, backed by the
sense of possession, and seated in the heart of her own pleasant estate,
rich now in the burnished glory of autumn, writes _en grande dame_ from
Chatsworth on October 22nd:—
“Your letters touching Henry Lassells came to my hands after my husband
had answered them. I doubt not you are persuaded of my dutiful service,
but lest you should think any lack of goodwill to answer, I thought it
meet to advertise you of my whole doings in the matters.
“As soon as I had intelligence that this Lassells had some familiar talk
with the Queen of Scotland, and that my Lord thereupon had laid watch to
his doings, this Lassells belike suspecting of my knowledge thereof,
desired that he might offer unto me some special matter touching that
Queen, with great desire that I should in no wise utter it, for, saith
he, she hath most earnestly warned me not to tell you of all creatures.
I then hoping to hear of some practice, answered him that he might
assure himself not only to be harmless, but to be well rewarded also at
the Queen Majesty’s hands, and of my Lord, if he would plainly and truly
show of her doings and devices, meet to be known. Then he told me with
many words that she pretended great goodwill unto him, and of good
liking of him, and that she would make him a lord, but, saith he, I will
never be false to the Queen’s Majesty, nor to my Lord, my master.
Further than this I could not learn of him. Then I warned him to
remember his duty and to beware of her, and that she sought to abuse
him, and that I knew for certain that she did hate him. He said then
that he would take heed, and advertise me of all that he could learn.
After this he came to me again, and told me of her familiar talk as
before, and of no further matter, saving that he said that he told her
how he marvelled that she could love the Duke,[17] having so foul a
face, and that she answered that she could like him well enough, because
he was wise. Then I warned him again more earnestly than I did before,
and told him of her hatred towards him. Then he seemed to credit me.
Albeit a while after he desired me by his letters to certify him how I
knew she hated him, for, saith he, if she so do she is the falsest woman
living. Then my Lord and I perceiving his mind so fondly occupied on her
and knowing him to be both vain and glorious, and that he was more like
to be made an instrument to work harm than to do good, my Lord
despatched him out of service, as he hath divers others upon suspicion
at sundry times. This came to my knowledge about Candlemas, next after
the Northern rebellion, and he was put away about Easter following. I
never knew of any dealing between the Queen and the Duke of Norfolk,
either by Lassells or anyone else. If I had I trust you think I would
have discovered it.”
It is not surprising that the Earl’s wife kept aloof for a while and
preferred Chatsworth just now. Sheffield was a regular dungeon: the
Scottish Queen was only allowed to take an airing on the leads. No
domestic cheerfulness was possible, no social intercourse, and every
letter sent or received was a source of anxiety.
Both for the sake of social decency and because of the necessity to
impress the always scandalous world with her conjugal devotion, the
Countess however returned presently to the fortress and took up her
share of the daily burden of wardenship.
Her presence was more than ever necessary now. The Duke of Norfolk’s
trial was fixed for a date early in the New Year, and the Earl’s
assistance thereat was indispensable, for he was made Lord High Steward
of England in the place of the arraigned nobleman. The command at
Sheffield was therefore temporarily assigned, not to Huntingdon this
time, but to Sir Ralph Sadler. He arrived, the Earl left for London, and
Bess Shrewsbury remained to keep a hand upon the situation and play her
own cards. She did this incessantly till her husband’s return.
Circumstances gave her most excellent opportunities for making a good
impression on Sadler. It was her business to walk on those leads of the
now vanished castle with the prisoner and to carry her daily such news
as it was considered well to communicate. There was very little variety
in the days. When the weather was bad Mary kept to her rooms. When it
improved she took her airing, but had not much refreshment for her eyes.
There was little to do on the leads but stroll to and fro, gazing at
Sheffield Lodge on the hill, or at the water and meadows below. And for
the ear there was nothing beyond music on the virginals to charm it, no
sounds to distract the country silence, except the opening and closing
of the castle gates, and the roll of the drum at six o’clock morning and
evening, when the watches were set and the password given.
[Illustration:
_From the picture in the possession of the Duke of Norfolk_
THOMAS HOWARD, DUKE OF NORFOLK
Page 86
]
To all who are students of the latter years of Mary’s life the letters
of Sir Ralph Sadler, written during this time, must be familiar. His
whole attention is naturally concentrated on the interesting captive,
but here and there we get side glimpses of Lady Shrewsbury and her power
as a kind of self-ordained lady of the bedchamber to Mary.
The news of Norfolk’s death sentence was not long in coming. The Earl of
Shrewsbury himself had to pronounce it with true and bitter tears, and
Cecil, now Lord Burghley, at once wrote to Sheffield. A fact so
important must be communicated to Mary at once. It was due to her both
as Norfolk’s accomplice and as a prisoner of quality. It was highly
important that the effect of it on her should be gauged and duly
reported. For this sweet errand the Countess was chosen. A previous
announcement had, however, reached her, and took the wind out of the
Countess’s sails. What a situation! She found the Queen “all bewept and
mourning,” and had the doubtful taste to ask “what ailed her.” Mary,
with great dignity and pathos, replied that she was sure that the
Countess must already know the cause and would sympathise, and she
expressed further her intense grief lest anything she had written to
Elizabeth on behalf of Norfolk had brought him and her other friends to
such a pass. The Countess had common sense, and her rejoinder was
logical and undoubtedly correct, but she need not have hit quite so hard
as in her reply, quoted by Sadler. For a woman of imagination—and
imagination of a practical kind Bess Shrewsbury certainly possessed—it
was a cruel answer, and not the least part of the cruelty was the
scathing condemnation of one who she knew might have been Mary’s
husband. It seems to have crushed Mary. She could bear no further
discussion of the matter, and withdrew into herself to nurse her sorrow.
“And so like a true lover she remaineth, still mourning for her love,”
wrote Sadler, much touched by her attitude. This letter of his is
graphic enough to be quoted in full:—
“Please it, your Lordship,
“The posts whether they work or play have their hire, and therefore I
spare not their labour though I have none other occasion than to
advertise your L. that all is well here concerning this charge, and that
yesterday I received your letters of the 17th of this present (for which
I most heartily thank your L.), together with a brief discourse of the
Duke’s arraignment and condemnation, which I forthwith imparted unto my
Lady of Shrewsbury to the end she might take occasion to make this Queen
understand of the same; and also I gave it out to the gentlemen in this
House both what number of the Nobility did pass upon his trial, and also
that his offences and treasons were such, and so manifestly and plainly
proved, that all the noble men did not only detest the same, but also
without any manner of scruple objected by common consent everyone of
them did pronounce him guilty. Which, being put abroad here in the house
after this sort, was brought unto the knowledge of this Queen by some of
her folk which heard it, before my Lady came unto her, for the which
this Queen wept very bitterly, so that my Lady found her all to be wept
and mourning, and asking her what she ailed, she answered that she was
sure my Lady could not be ignorant of the cause, and that she could not
but be much grieved, to understand of the trouble of her friends, which
she knew did fare the worse for her sake, for sure she was that the Duke
fared the worse for that which she of late had written to the Q.
Majesty; and said further that he was unjustly condemned, protesting
that as far as ever she could perceive by him or for anything she knew
he was a true man to the Queen her sister: but being answered by my Lady
that as she might be sure that whatsoever she had written to the Q.
Majesty could do the Duke neither good nor harm touching his
condemnation, so if his offences and treasons had not been great and
plainly proved against him those noble men which passed upon his trial
would not for all the good on earth have condemned him. She thereupon
with mourning there became silent, and had no will to talk any more of
the matter, and so like a true lover she remaineth still mourning for
her love. God, I trust, will put it into the Queen Majesty’s heart so to
provide for herself that such true lovers may receive such rewards and
fruits of their love as they have justly deserved at her Majesty’s
hands.
“All the last week this Queen did not once look out of her chamber,
hearing that the Duke stood upon his arraignment and trial, and being
troubled by all likelihood by a guilty conscience and fear to hear of
such news as she hath now received. And my presence is such a trouble
unto her that unless she come out of her chamber I come little at her,
but my Lady is seldom from her, and for my part I have not since my
coming hither so behaved myself towards her as might justly give her
occasion to have any such misliking of me: though indeed I would not
rejoice at all of it, if she had any better liking. But though she like
not of me yet I am sure this good lady and all the gentlemen and others
of this house do like well enough of me: which doth well appear by their
courteous and gentle entertainment of me and mine. My Lord hath a costly
guest of me, for I and my men and 36 horses of mine do all lie and feed
here at his charge, and therefore the sooner he come home the better for
him. Trusting his L. be now on the way and therefore I forbear to write
to him. But if he be there, it may please you to tell him that all is
well here, and that my Lady and I do long to see his L. here. And as I
doubt not she would most gladly have him here, so I am sure she cannot
long for him more than I do, looking hourly to hear some good news from
your L. of my return. And so I beseech Almighty God to preserve and keep
you in long life and health, and to increase you in honour and virtue.
From Sheffield Castle the 21st of January at night 1571. With the rude
hands of
“Your L. to command as your own
“R. SADLER.
“To the right honourable and my very good lord, my Lord of Burghley,
of the Queen Majesty’s Privy Council.”
[Illustration:
_From a print in the British Museum_
SHEFFIELD MANOR HOUSE
Page 90
]
Never was the contrast between the two principal ladies in Sheffield
Castle so marked as at this moment. Mary mourns for Norfolk, for the
ruin of her hopes, for the treaty of freedom which now can never be
carried through. Bess sails about the castle aware of everything at
Court and at home; the posts bring her affectionate letters from the
Earl, while her children and his flourish under their respective tutors.
Chatsworth is still a-building, and she signs orders for stone and wood
and coal and fodder. She was a good hostess to Sadler, and when he
relinquished his duties gladly enough in February, upon the Earl’s
return, he was positive that Lady Shrewsbury was deserving of great
commendation and “condign thanks” for the manner in which she filled her
important position. She was very much of a personage, and her
correspondence exhibits very few of the traits usually described as
“feminine,” while her friends fully estimated her influence and her
interest in the larger events. The following lengthy letter gives the
complexity of the political situation, and though of course it belongs
to a date previous to the execution of Norfolk, is placed here as an
illustration of the stirring times in which the great lady lived and the
events which had happened during the first year or two of her fourth
marriage. It is unsigned, and is evidently from some connection or
possibly a gentleman of the Shrewsbury household, who is keeping his
ears and eyes wide open at Court:—
“To the Countess of Shrewsbury,
“My most humble duty remembered unto your honourable good lord. May it
please the same to understand that I have sent you herein enclosed the
articles of peace concluded and proclaimed through all France, in
French, because they are not at this hour to be had in English (which
are translated and in printing), and if the peace be kept, the
Protestants be indifferently well. The great sitting is done at Norwich;
and, as I do hear credibly, that Appleyard, Throgmorton, Redman, and
another are condemned to be hung, drawn, and quartered; and Hobart and
two more are condemned to perpetual imprisonment, with the loss of all
their goods and lands during their lives. The four condemned for high
treason, and the other for reconcilement. They were charged of these
four points: the destruction of the Queen’s person; the imprisonment of
my Lord Keeper, my Lord of Leicester, Secretary Cecil; the setting at
liberty out of the Tower the Duke of Norfolk; and the banishment of all
strangers; and it fell out in their examination that they would have
imprisoned Sir Christopher Haydon and Sir William Butts, the Queen’s
Lieutenants. None of them could excuse themselves of any of the four
points, saving Appleyard said he meant nothing towards the Queen’s
person; for that he meant to have had them to a banquet, and to have
betrayed them all, and to have won credit thereby with the Queen.
Throgmorton was mute, and would say nothing till he was condemned, who
then said, ‘They are full merry now that will be as sorry within these
few days.’ Mr. Bell was attorney for Mr. Gerrard, he being one of the
Judges, and Mr. Bell alleged against Appleyard that he was consenting to
the treason before; alleging one Parker’s words, that was brought
prisoner with Dr. Storey out of Flanders, that Parker heard of the
treason before Nallard came over to the Duke of Alva. And there stood
one Bacon by that heard Parker say so: my Lord offered a book to Bacon
for to swear: ‘O, my Lord,’ said Appleyard, ‘will you condemn me of his
oath that is registered for a knave in the Book of Martyrs?’
“They had set out a proclamation, and had four prophecies; one was
touching the wantonness of the Court, and the other touching this land
to be conquered by the Scots; and two more that I cannot remember. There
were many in trouble for speaking of seditious words. Thomas Cecil said
that the Duke of Norfolk was not of that religion as he was accounted to
be: and that his cousin Cecil was the Queen’s darling, who was the cause
of the Duke of Norfolk’s imprisonment, with such like; who is put off to
the next assize. Anthony Middleton said, ‘My Lord Morley is gone to set
the Duke of Alva into Yarmouth, and if William Keat had not accused me,
Throgmorton, and the rest we had had a hot harvest; but if the Duke of
Norfolk be alive, they all dare not put them to death.’ Metcalf said
that he would help the Duke of Alva into Yarmouth, and to wash his hands
in the Protestants’ blood. Marsham said that my Lord of Leicester had
two children by the Queen: and for that he is condemned to lose both his
ears, or else pay £100 presently. Chiplain said he hoped to see the Duke
of Norfolk to be King before Michaelmas next, who doth interpret that he
meant, not to be King of England, but to be King of Scotland.
“Mr. Bell and Mr. Solicitor said both to this effect to the
prisoners—‘What mad fellows were ye, being all rank Papists, to make the
Duke of Norfolk your patron that is as good a Protestant as any is in
England: and, being wicked traitors, to hope of his help to your wicked
intents and purposes, that is as true and as faithful a subject as any
that is in this land, saving only that the Queen is minded to imprison
him for his contempt.’ Doctor Storey is at Mr. Archdeacon Watts’ house,
in custody, besides Powels. Thurlby, late Bishop of Ely, died this last
week at Lambeth.
“The Spanish Queen is arrived in the Low Countries, and will embark as
soon as may be. The Emperor is setting forward his other daughter
towards Metz to be married to the French King. It is written, by letters
of the 28th of the last, from Venice, that the Turk has landed in Cyprus
100,000 men, or more, and has besieged two great cities within that
kingdom, Nicocia and Famagosta. At one assault at Famagosta they lost
12,000 men; upon the which repulse the Begler Bey of Natolia, the
General of the Turk’s army, wrote to the great Turk, his master, that he
thought it was invincible. He answered that, if they did not win it
before they came, they should be put to the sword at their return home.
The Turk has sent another army by land against the Venetians, into
Dalmatia, and are besieging Zara with 20,000 footmen and 20,000
horsemen, and divers towns they have taken, as Spalator, Elisa, Eleba,
and Nona, with great spoil and bloodshed: and it is written that the
Turk’s several armies are above 200,000 men against the Venetians. The
men first sent by the Venetians fell so into diseases by the way as they
were fain to prepare new men, which is thought will hardly come to do
any good in Cyprus. A man may see what account is to be made of these
worldly things, as to see in a small time the third state of
Christendom, in security, power, and wealth, to be in danger of utter
overthrow in one year.
“They say my Lord of Leicester hath many workmen at Kenilworth to make
his house strong, and doth furnish it with armour, ammunition, and all
necessaries for defence. And thus Jesus have my Lord, and your Ladyship,
and my friends in his tuition, to God’s pleasure.—Scribbled at London,
the last of August, 1570.
“Your good Ladyship’s ever to command during life.
“To the right honourable Countess of Shrewsbury
at Chatsworth, or where.”
Life fell once more into its old groove. No large conspiracy could be
feared yet, in spite of Elizabeth’s postponement of Norfolk’s execution.
But there remained always the undercurrent of lesser “practices.” Earl
and Lady had their hands always full with detective work of this kind.
Priests and conjurers, pedlars, porters, and even schoolmasters formed
the roll of suspects. Scouts were always at work following their
movements, hanging about taverns to hear gossip which might betray their
doings, and searchers were employed to pounce upon any scrap of written
stuff which might prove valuable “copy.” Some of the most emphatic
witnesses against Mary—her own letters of conspiracy—were actually found
hidden under a stone on a bit of waste ground. The messenger charged
with them durst not carry them further at that moment and before he
could remove them they were discovered. It was about this time that she
was given permission to take her airing further than the leads and to
walk out in the open. The snow lay on the ground and soaked her to the
ankles, but she bore it cheerfully, and one wonders if she had knowledge
of those hidden letters and whether she nourished a wild hope of finding
them in their niche and setting them safely on their way. Secret and
sinister were the warnings which Earl and Lady shared in that long cold
spring at Sheffield. All travellers from across the Border were duly
catalogued by the northern authorities and word passed from mouth to
mouth of their appearance and activities. This was the sort of despatch
which reached the castle: “A certain boy should come lately out of
England with letters to the castle of Edinburgh and is to return back
again within three or four days.... It were not amiss that my Lord of
Shrewsbury had warning of him. His letters be secured in the buttons and
seams of his coat. His coat is of black English frieze, he hath a cut on
his left cheek, from his eye down, by the which he may be well known.”
All the dodges of such envoys—from the stitching of letters into linings
and the hiding of a written message under the setting of a jewel to the
use of bags with double bottoms where despatches could be kept “safe
from wet and fretting” and sight—were known to the Shrewsburys. An
evening spent in the kitchens and guardroom, an hour or so of conference
with my Lady would open to reader and writer alike a world of
sensational gossip “palpitating with actuality.” The captive Queen’s
precarious health was a constant subject of discussion. Shrewsbury’s
letters were bound to be full of it. Mary, who once more began to
bombard Elizabeth with letters, suggested a trial of Buxton waters. She
also busied herself anew with embroidery, contrived gifts for the Queen,
and sent her a large consignment of French stuffs and silks. When
packages of this kind arrived from France the Earl was always on the
look-out. So careful was he in regard to his wife’s share in such
parcels that he would not let her receive and pay for such goods until
he had first communicated the exact details of the transaction to his
royal mistress.
Neither French taffetas nor little embroidered caps could alter the
decision of the Privy Council and reverse the position of the axe in
regard to the Duke of Norfolk. His death took place in the glory of the
early summer of 1572. Mary mourned and her health grew worse and worse.
Yet, just when change was planned for her, and the castle had reached a
condition almost too insanitary to endure, the news came of the massacre
of St. Bartholomew. “These French tragedies and ending of unlucky
marriage with blood and vile murders cannot be expressed with tongue to
declare the cruelties.... These fires may be doubted that their flames
may come both hither and into Scotland, for such cruelties have large
scopes.... All men now cry out of your prisoner,” wrote Burghley to the
Earl under supreme agitation. To which the latter replies later, “These
are to advertise you that the Queen remains still within these four
walls, in safe keeping.” The woods and wolds, he explains, are being
scoured by his spies, and the number of the guard is increased by
thirty. Clang of gate, clash of steel, roll of drum—the household music
of the Shrewsburys knew nothing more harmonious than these noises. At
stated intervals we hear the old burthen of sturdy self-vindication in
such letters as the following to Burghley:—
“My very good Lord,
“I heartily thank your good Lordship for seeking to satisfy her Majesty
in some doubts she might conceive of me and my wife, upon information
given to her Majesty; your Lordship therein doeth the part of a faithful
friend; so I have always trusted, and you shall receive no dishonour
thereby. My services and fidelity to her Majesty are such as I am
persuaded with assured hope that her Majesty, having proofs enough
thereof, condemneth those who so untruly surmise, against my wife first,
and now myself, either of us undutiful dealing with this Queen or myself
of any carelessness in regard my charge. As before I crave trial of
whosoever is here noted of any indirect dealing with this Queen, so do I
again require at your Lordship’s hands to be amenable to her Majesty for
due proof and punishment, as they merit, that her Majesty might be fully
satisfied and quiet. And for my riding abroad sometimes (not far from my
charge) in respect of my health only; it has been well known to your
Lordship from the first beginning of my charge, and it is true I always
gave order first for safe keeping of her with a sure and stronger guard,
both within my house and further off, than when myself was with her. I
trusted none in my absence but those I had tried; true and faithful
servants unto me, and like subjects to her Majesty. I thank God my
account of this weighty charge is ready, to her Majesty’s contentation.
No information nor surmise can make me shrink. Nevertheless, henceforth
her Majesty’s commandment for my continual attendance upon this lady
shall be obeyed, as her Majesty shall not mislike thereof; and even so,
my Lord, I say to that part of your letters wherein a motion is made to
me; that (as in all my services hitherto) I had, nor seek, written
contentment nor will, than shall stand her Majesty’s pleasure or her
best service. And so, wishing to your Lordship as well as to myself, I
take my leave.
“At Sheffield this 9th of December, 1572.
“Your Lordship’s ever-assured friend,
“G. SHREWSBURY.
“I have presumed to write to the Queen’s Majesty to the same effect as
to your Lordship.”