Part 5 (2/2)

And as late as 1603, the accession proclamation of James I would speak of this marriage that had ”brought to an end the b.l.o.o.d.y and civil wars to the joy unspeakable of this kingdom.”73 After the wedding, the King and his new Queen presided over a lavish nuptial feast, at which the guests dined on roasted peac.o.c.ks, swans, larks, and quails, followed by sugared almonds and fruit tarts.

It is often claimed that a medal (now in the British Museum) was struck to commemorate the marriage, embellished with images of the happy couple holding hands; the man wears a garland of roses on his head, while the woman is shown crowned, with her wavy hair loose, as betokened a virgin bride and queen. She wears a round-necked gown beneath a mantle, and a heavy cross suspended from a pearl necklace. The reverse shows a wreath of roses enclosing a legend: ”As the rising sun is the ornament of the day, so is a good wife the ornament of her house.” It is the roses that have led to the incorrect a.s.sumption that the medal was struck to mark the union of Henry and Elizabeth, but it has now been established that the medal is one of a series made in Prague in the late sixteenth century, and that it has nothing to do with them.74 Similarly, a painting formerly at Sudeley Castle (once at Strawberry Hill), said to be by Jan Gossaert (or Mabuse), has long been said to portray the marriage of Henry VII and Elizabeth of York, and has often been engraved as such. Yet there is no evidence that Gossaert ever visited England, and his style is very different. The setting is an imaginary church, and the attire of the bride appears to date from the late sixteenth century, while the other figures wear late-fifteenth-century dress. A painting, perhaps contemporary, and said to be of the marriage, is in Lady Braye's collection at Stanford Hall, Leicesters.h.i.+re. A modern romanticized painting of The Joining of the Houses of Lancaster and York, executed by J. R. Brown around 1901, hangs in Blackpool Town Hall.

At last Elizabeth's ambitions had been crowned with the royal dignity that was rightfully hers. Her wedding night was spent in the King's bedchamber, the Painted Chamber of the Palace of Westminster, a vast room built in the thirteenth century by Henry III, measuring eighty-six by twenty-six feet. Behind the ma.s.sive four-poster bed was a mural dating from that time, showing the coronation of Edward the Confessor in faded red, blue, silver, and gold, and on the walls were huge paintings of Biblical battles. There was a great fireplace in the room, but even so the Painted Chamber must have been difficult to heat in January, and the palace was notoriously damp. Fortunately, the bed curtains would have afforded a degree of intimacy.

Now, it was Henry's part to a.s.say a second victory: as on the battlefield, so in the bedchamber, for as Ann Wroe points out, the language of love was very much the language of war, and a man was expected to come prepared with his ”weapon” or ”harness” and engage in a ”raid,” or ”sweet combat,” with his lady, each showing the other mercy in paying ”the sweet due debt of nature.”75 For all the years of intrigue and political maneuvering, the blood shed at Bosworth, the pageantry and symbolism of the wedding, and the advantages of this great alliance, what mattered now was what happened when these two young people, divested of their royal finery-for it was customary to sleep naked-got between the sheets together to do their duty to their people and to posterity, and, as Fuller put it, ”the two Houses of York and Lancaster united first hopefully in their bed.” As time would soon prove, this was a most successful mating, not least because the Yorkist claimant to the throne, who could have been Henry Tudor's greatest enemy, had now been rendered neutral in his embrace.

The white and red roses of York and Lancaster combined were from the first the chief symbol of this union, and of the new dynasty. Henry was actively to promote it. The following year, in York on progress, he ordered a pageant to be performed featuring ”a royal rich red rose, unto which rose shall appear another rich white rose, unto whom all flowers shall give sovereignty, and there shall come from a cloud a crown covering the roses.”76 Here is the origin of the Tudor badge, the rose and crown. The great rose window in the south transept of York Minster, with its intertwined red and white roses, commemorates the marriage of the founders of the Tudor dynasty. The King had the Tudor rose incorporated into the collar of the garter insignia, and it became customary to surround the royal arms with a garland of Tudor roses.

Popular songs were written about the new emblem, notably, ”A Crown-Garland of n.o.ble Roses gathered out of England's loyal Garden: A Princely Song made of the Red Rose and White, royally united together by King Henry VII and Elizabeth Plantagenet,” which claimed that ”the owners of these princely flowers in virtues do excel.”77 And in 1550 the t.i.tle page of the printed edition of Hall's chronicle, The Union of the Two n.o.ble and Ill.u.s.tre Families of Lancaster and York, had the t.i.tle enclosed between two rose trellises, with Henry VII and Elizabeth of York kneeling, hand in hand, at the top of each, with their son, Henry VIII, in majesty above them-the true inheritor of both strains of royal blood.78

8.

”In Blest Wedlock”

On the morning after her wedding night, Henry presented Elizabeth with Giovanni de' Gigli's poem, her morning gift, and then there would have been the traditional small ceremony of her ”uprising” as a new wife.1 Henceforth, as a married woman, she would be expected to bind up her hair and cover it with a hood, although queens were invested with symbolic virginity because they were expected to emulate Mary, the Mother of Christ, so they were allowed the privilege of wearing their hair loose on ceremonial occasions when they wore their crowns.

Waking up as Queen of England, Elizabeth would surely have been conscious of the fact that she now occupied the most powerful and socially desirable position to which a woman could aspire.2 She was the wife of the Lord's Anointed,3 a status that would from now on be reflected in every aspect of the ritual and ceremonial that surrounded her and governed her life; and she, the daughter of a King and Queen, would have been aware of the weight of responsibility that brought with it. She was to be the highest example of virtuous womanhood: the living mirror of the Virgin Mary, as exemplified by her chast.i.ty and humility, her antic.i.p.ated motherhood, her charity, and her acts of mercy. A Queen had to be the embodiment of piety, the guardian of the royal bloodline, an object of chivalric devotion, a gentle and moderate mediator in the conflicts of men, and an inspiration to her husband's subjects.

Elizabeth now had to prove her worthiness in more practical ways too. She had to bear the heirs so crucial to the Tudor succession and the continuance of the new dynasty. She had a great household to run, and was no doubt thankful that a phalanx of officers had been appointed to help her do it. She had a sophisticated ceremonial role to perform at court and in the realm at large. She had to negotiate the political inst.i.tution that was the court, which might mean subsuming her private loyalties to her duty to the King her husband. She had to learn to live within her means, yet show herself generous in her charities and make provision for her immediate relations, who would now look to her for support and advancement. She also had to accustom herself to her husband's ways, combine queenly dignity with the docility and submission expected of a wife, and be a loving helpmeet to this man who clearly expected her to play a subordinate role, despite her superior claim to the throne. Then she had to forge good relations with his influential mother. It was daunting, what was expected of her: yet she had been born a royal princess and reared to know what to expect; and she had the example of her mother before her.

The Queen's seal survives in the National Archives at Kew. Elizabeth chose ”Humble and reverent” as her queenly motto, in place of ”sans removyr,” and the white rose of York as her personal emblem. As her father's heiress, she was legally ent.i.tled to bear the royal arms of England, but for Henry VII that implied joint sovereignty, so at his instance she and her sisters bore the royal arms quartered with those of their Mortimer and de Burgh forebears. Their maternal Wydeville heritage did not feature at all.4 Elizabeth's escutcheon can be seen at the foot of her tomb in Westminster Abbey. For public occasions and court ceremonials, her retinue wore her personal livery of mulberry and blue silk, the colors of the House of York.5 At other times they wore liveries of various colors, such as russet, green, tawny (tan), or black.6 Elizabeth now had to adjust to marriage with the complex twenty-nine-year-old man who was her husband. Bacon called Henry VII ”a dark prince and infinitely suspicious,” which is not surprising considering that, from early childhood, his life had been overshadowed by war and intrigue. And as King, as Bacon observed, ”his time was full of secret conspiracies.” He was calculating, pragmatic, devious, ruthless, and p.r.o.ne to dissimulation, and he never won the love of his people, only their grudging respect.

But Henry was also ”a man of vast ability”7 and hidden depths. He knew four languages, was well read, good at economics, and well versed in the arts of the period. He was clever, hardworking, subtle, shrewd, caring to his family, and possessed of a dry humor. His good qualities would much later be lauded in a funeral oration made by John Fisher, Bishop of Rochester and chaplain and confessor to Margaret Beaufort, who praised ”his politic wisdom in governance” as ”singular,” his wit ”always quick and ready, his reason pithy and substantial, his memory fresh, his counsels fortunate and taken by wise deliberation.”

Henry's greatest achievements were to survive on the throne for so long and ultimately to bring stability to England. His aims were a secure throne bolstered by wealth, the maintenance of law, order, and peace, the supremacy of the crown, the future prosperity and standing of his dynasty, and the establishment of his realm as an international power to be reckoned with. He succeeded in them all. He established strong centralized government, a far-flung network of administrators and justices, and effective law and order. He promoted foreign trade and commerce, brought economic prosperity to the merchant cla.s.ses, and ama.s.sed a fortune that made him financially independent of Parliament. By clever alliances he would substantially enhance England's standing in the arena of European politics.

Henry was haunted by the knowledge that an army as small as the one he had led against Richard III at Bosworth could overthrow him, and by the fear that any of the Yorkist heirs might challenge his t.i.tle. Yet despite his insecurities, he brought firm government to England. Conscientious and professional, he displayed insight, prudence, patience, and understanding. He was well-informed and astute, and his political ac.u.men earned him universal respect. Ever suspicious of his n.o.bles, he outlawed ”b.a.s.t.a.r.d feudalism,” the system by which great lords had maintained private armies of retainers, which made the Wars of the Roses possible. Henry reined in the power of the n.o.bility by banning such armies and reviving the Court of Star Chamber,8 which had power to punish those lords who infringed the new laws. He promoted loyal and energetic ”new men” who had risen through wealth and ability to prominence.

He was a man who liked to keep an eye on details that other kings might have left to others. Notoriously careful with money, he painstakingly initialed each item in his accounts.9 ”He constantly kept notes and memorials in his own hand, especially touching persons, as whom to employ, whom to reward, keeping a journal of his thoughts.” But he was to be confounded. ”His monkey, set on, as it was thought, by one of his chamber, tore his princ.i.p.al notebook all to pieces, when by chance he had left it about. Whereat the court, which liked not these pensive accounts, was much tickled with the sport.”10 Henry was an intelligent and cultured man who patronized William Caxton, collected books, appreciated poetry, and encouraged the new learning of the Renaissance in England. He invited French and Italian scholars such as Bernard Andre and Polydore Vergil to his court. Like Elizabeth, he was genuinely devout, and would attend Ma.s.s up to three times a day. He was also liberal when it came to giving alms to the sick, the poor, and the Church.

If Henry lacked the common touch, he liked to give the impression of greatness, and knew when to spend lavishly to project the magnificence expected of monarchs, which would command respect and awe for the new dynasty. Andrea Trevisano, a Venetian envoy, was received by the King in 1497 in ”a small hall hung with very handsome tapestry. Leaning against a tall gilt chair covered with cloth of gold, His Majesty wore a violet-colored gown lined with cloth of gold, and a collar of many jewels; and on his cap was a large diamond and a most beautiful pearl.”11 When the King ate, he was served not by his household officers but by peers of the realm. Whenever he ventured out in public, he walked under a canopy of estate and was attended by great ceremonial. He founded the Yeomen of the Guard, the first standing army in English history, as his personal bodyguard. Henry VII's personal magnificence, typical of princes of the age, helped to convince not only his subjects, but also foreign amba.s.sadors and the princes they served, that his throne was secure. Yet an envoy once observed of him: ”He likes to be much spoken of, and to be highly appreciated by the whole world. He fails in this because he is not a great man.”12 Henry was often a cheerful, witty, and congenial companion. He loved court ceremonial, music, cards, dice, gambling, dancing, disguisings, plays, and morris dancers, and delighted in the antics of tumblers, jugglers, acrobats, fire eaters, and court fools, pastimes Elizabeth enjoyed also. He was clearly a thoughtful man, and gave generous gifts to his servants and Elizabeth at New Year, and extra to those who could not attend the festivities.13 To his children, he was an attentive and loving father, ”full of paternal affection, careful of their education, aspiring to their high advancement, regular to see that they should not want of any due honor and respect.”14 That he loved them too is apparent in two inscriptions he wrote in a book of hours given to his daughter, Margaret, probably on her departure to marry the King of Scots in 1503: ”Remember your kind and loving father in your prayers.” And, ”Pray for your loving father that gave you this book, and I give you at all times G.o.d's blessing and mine.”15 Also, he was a faithful and loving husband to Elizabeth.

The carved letters H and E in a lovers' knot on the tower roof of Sherborne Abbey Church, Dorset, are said to be the initials of Henry VII and Elizabeth of York, symbolizing their loving wedlock. Touching mentions of Elizabeth in official correspondence and accounts, such as ”the King's most dear bedfellow, the Queen,” ”the King's most dear consort,” or ”our dearest wife, the Queen,”16 were merely conventional forms of reference, and do not necessarily reflect real affection. That there was affection and tenderness between Henry and Elizabeth cannot be doubted, but evidence about the true nature of their relations.h.i.+p is contradictory. A Spanish envoy, Juan de Matienzo, sub-prior of Santa Cruz, claimed in 1498 that Elizabeth ”suffered under great oppression and led a miserable, cheerless life.” He suggested to his sovereigns, Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain, that ”it would be a good thing to write often to her, and to show her a little love.”17 Evidently he thought love was lacking in her life. Yet there is no other evidence that Elizabeth was deprived of it-rather the opposite, for there are instances of both the King and his mother showing genuine concern for her health and her happiness; and on this one occasion there may have been a very good reason why Elizabeth appeared subdued, even unhappy.

In 1613, Bacon a.s.serted of Henry that ”his Queen (notwithstanding she presented him with divers children, and a crown also, though he would not acknowledge it) could do nothing with him ... Toward [her] he was nothing uxorious, nor scarce indulgent, but companionable and respective [considerate], and without jealousy ... And it is true that, all his lifetime, while the Lady Elizabeth lived with him, he showed himself no very indulgent husband to her, though she was beautiful, gentle, and fruitful. But his aversion toward the House of York was so predominant in him, as it found place not only in his wars and councils, but in his chamber and bed.” If this were initially true, it could have had much to do with Elizabeth's involvement with Richard III, which had upset Henry at the time, and must have seemed like a betrayal. But was it true?

To begin with, Henry may have resented what Elizabeth was, even while growing to love her for herself. He was clearly wary of her lineage and potential influence. That is evident in his determination not to be seen to owe his crown to her, and his relegating her to a dynastic, ceremonial, and domestic role, and placing financial constraints upon her, as will be seen. Above all, it seems, he did not want her to be a.s.sociated in any way with Richard III, as the matter of Queens' College, Cambridge, shows. It had been founded by Margaret of Anjou and later enjoyed the patronage of Elizabeth Wydeville and Anne Neville, so it might have followed that Elizabeth of York, as Queen, would a.s.sume that role too. But Richard III had also been a patron of Queens,' and on his accession, Henry VII confiscated all the endowments made by Richard and Anne; significantly, Elizabeth did not become the college's new royal patron. On her death, however, that role would be taken over by Margaret Beaufort.18 Bacon was sometimes apt to draw sweeping conclusions about Elizabeth that jar with other evidence and should be treated with caution. There is little else to support his d.a.m.ning a.s.sessment of the marriage, which was based on negative inferences he had made from Henry VII's delay in marrying Elizabeth,19 and his belief that Henry had wronged her by not ruling in her right. In fact, historians all the way back to John Lingard, whose history of England was published in 1819, have questioned Bacon's observations about the relations.h.i.+p between Henry and Elizabeth.

The years spent as a fugitive had taken their toll on the King.

He trusted few and had learned to maintain an autocratic distance. ”He was of a high mind and loved his own will and his own way, as one that revered himself and would reign indeed. Had he been a private man he would have been termed proud: but in a wise prince, it was but keeping of distance, which indeed he did toward all, not admitting any near or full approach, either to his power or to his secrets. For he was governed by none.”20 Elizabeth may have found this daunting, at least to begin with, and probably soon realized that her husband was not going to treat her as a political confidante, for it was not in his nature. Children, companions.h.i.+p, and support seem to have been all he wanted from her, at least at the beginning.

It was for these reasons, and possibly more personal ones, that Henry began by keeping Elizabeth in her place. The early years of their marriage were probably challenging, for he had to overcome his suspicions of his Yorkist bride and deal with her dangerous relations. Yet it is clear that Elizabeth left him in no doubt as to where her loyalties lay. Her superior t.i.tle to the throne never proved a threat to him, and probably she herself made sure that he knew he had nothing to fear from her. As time pa.s.sed, he clearly grew to love, trust, and respect her; he was affectionate toward her, and they seem to have become emotionally close. We know that she loved him, and she must have appreciated the stability that marriage to Henry brought her after so many years of tragedy, danger, and anxiety.

We will hear how, much later, the couple hastened lovingly to comfort and support each other after losing a child, which argues that, after years of wedlock, they had come to enjoy a close and mutually supportive relations.h.i.+p. Thomas More would write of the ”faithful love” that enabled them ”to continue in marriage and peaceable concord.” Certainly there is no record of any strife between them. Touching references in Henry's letters and privy purse expenses reveal his tenderness toward his wife, while his desperate grief after her death suggests that he had come to cherish her, and perhaps felt remorseful that he had not shown it enough. Probably, after suffering an uncertain youth in captivity or exile, he was grateful for the settled existence he came to enjoy with his virtuous queen, and for the welcome peace and tranquillity of his domestic life. And no doubt, over the years, he would have been increasingly grateful to Elizabeth for presenting him with the heirs that were so essential to the future of the Tudor dynasty.

In an age in which royal couples often lived separate lives in separate apartments, and kings were frequently absent on business of their own while queens stayed at home, Elizabeth and Henry partic.i.p.ated together in a full social life at court and traveled together frequently, spending much time in each other's company. They shared a common piety and, it seems, a sense of humor. Inevitably, over the years, they grew closer. There was a softer side to the King that Elizabeth must have known. His privy purse expenses reveal numerous kindnesses, such as money he gave variously to a man wrongfully arrested, a woman with child, children singing for him in a garden, a Jewess for her marriage, the liberating of prisoners, and ”a little fair maiden that danceth.”21 A man whose heart was touched by people such as these must have had some kindness and warmth in his character.

We know something of what Henry VII admired in a woman from instructions he was later to give his amba.s.sadors when, as a widower, he considered marrying Joan, Queen of Naples. He could not court her in person, so he asked them to note carefully her age and stature, ”the features of her body; the favor of her visage, whether she be painted or not, and whether it be fat or lean, sharp or round, and whether her countenance be cheerful and amiable, frowning or melancholy, steadfast or light, or blus.h.i.+ng in communication; her eyes, brows, lips, and teeth; the fas.h.i.+on of her nose, and the height and breadth of her forehead; her arms, whether they be great or small, long or short; her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and paps, whether they be big or small; whether there appear any hair about her lips or not; the condition of her breath, whether it be sweet or not; [and] whether she be a great feeder or drinker.”22 It may be that he had come to regard his late wife as an ideal to which any future wife must conform or be found wanting.

Henry had lived a relatively chaste life. He had only one b.a.s.t.a.r.d son, Roland de Velville, conceived during his exile in Brittany; Velville was knighted by Henry VII, who appointed him Constable of Beaumaris Castle in Anglesey.23 After marriage, the King was apparently faithful to Elizabeth, and no breath of scandal tainted their union. A Spanish amba.s.sador wrote that ”one of the reasons why he leads a good life is that he has been brought up abroad.”24 He was implying that, had Henry been raised at the licentious court of Edward IV instead of being exiled, he might have succ.u.mbed to the temptations on offer there. Yet even an exile can indulge in amorous intrigues, so the likelihood is that Henry was, by nature, a monogamous man. And although there is evidence that, after years of faithful marriage, he was attracted to another lady, that was almost certainly as far as it went.

The sources give an overwhelming impression that the union between Henry and Elizabeth evolved into a true partners.h.i.+p, a relations.h.i.+p based on deep affection, if not love, cooperation, fidelity, and trust. She was to show herself devoted to promoting his interests; she never interfered, never openly complained, and proved herself a true helpmeet. In short, this was the most successful and stable marriage made by any of the Tudors.

Kings were not expected to share government with their queens, or to rely on their advice, and certainly they were not supposed to be influenced by them in political matters.25 Medieval queens were ”generally the pa.s.sive instruments of policy”26 and had no formal political ident.i.ty or power of their own. Queens were applauded, however, when they used their gentle feminine influence to intercede with the King where appropriate, and thus enabled him to rescind a decision without losing face. Instances of queens using their influence probably went largely unrecorded; a queen enjoyed a unique advantage over other pet.i.tioners due to her intimate relations.h.i.+p with the King. It was accepted that, because of this, she might be privy to matters of state, but advice that Elizabeth might have read urged that her ”wisdom ought to appear in speaking, that is to wit that she be secret and tell not such things as ought to be holden secret.”27 If she ever interceded with Henry, it was in private, and there are instances of his paying heed to her concerns, but it was not in his nature generally to be swayed by her.

As he almost certainly came to appreciate, Elizabeth performed her queenly role to perfection, understanding exactly what was required of her, and conforming seemingly effortlessly to the late medieval ideal of queens.h.i.+p, which constrained her to a role that was essentially decorous, symbolic, and dynastic. She was beautiful, devout, fertile, and kind-the traditional good queen.

In the past, historians tended to compare Elizabeth of York favorably to Margaret of Anjou,28 that ”great and strong labored woman”;29 yet today, in the wake of a revolution in female emanc.i.p.ation, it is the proactive Margaret, vigorously fighting her husband Henry VI's cause, who earns our admiration, rather than the pa.s.sive Elizabeth. Gentleness, fruitfulness, and piety are no longer qualities esteemed in women. We have learned to admire them for what they do, and for their strengths. But in Elizabeth's day, queens were not expected to do very much beyond exemplifying the humane, feminine side of monarchy-interceding for others, being charming to foreign amba.s.sadors, or winning popularity by their charities, their gifts to the poor, their pilgrimages, and their pious example. Getting involved in politics and wars was a step too far. Unlike Margaret of Anjou, Elizabeth never identified herself with factions at court; unlike her mother, she did not promote a horde of ambitious relatives. Certainly she was not as politically inclined, or as politically active, as Elizabeth Wydeville,30 and she never enjoyed anything approaching Elizabeth Wydeville's influence. If she had been strongly identified with the Wydeville faction prior to her marriage, that was all at an end, for her mother's family were never allowed much influence by Henry VII, who clearly preferred to emphasize Elizabeth's paternal descent.

Yet this was the girl who had schemed to marry her uncle, Richard III, the girl whose vengeance his councilors had feared-that same girl who had probably plotted with the Stanleys on Henry Tudor's behalf. What drove her had doubtless been the desire to be restored to her rightful inheritance and elevated to the throne. But now that she was Queen, having made that dynastically crucial marriage and achieved her ambition, she retreated from politics and interested herself largely in affairs that were her legitimate province, such as her household, her estates, her court, and her children. Her opinions were seldom to be voiced, and although she would be at the center of great and tumultuous events that must have affected her personally, probably deeply in some instances, we know little of her role-if any-in them, or her views or feelings.

It seems strange that she was now apparently ready meekly to accept a pa.s.sive role as the price of her marriage and her queens.h.i.+p, but probably it was an adjustment she was happy to make, for there is no evidence that she wanted to involve herself in political affairs. Even so, her married life may have been fraught at times. Her Yorkist blood and her superior claim to the throne ensured that she would tread a tightrope of divided loyalties in the coming years, joined as she was to a husband who was deeply suspicious of her house. How she rose to these challenges we do not know specifically, yet we can surely infer, from the emerging harmony of her marital existence, that she took care never to be controversial and always to place her husband's interests first.

Her own concerns were apparently domestic rather than political. From time to time the King involved her in diplomatic relations, mainly in connection with the marriages of their children, in which traditionally she was supposed to interest herself. It is often said that Henry allowed Elizabeth no power at all, but evidently it was known that she exercised a gentle, un.o.btrusive influence on him, as is evidenced by the endless stream of gifts to her from powerful persons who clearly believed that her patronage was worth having.31 However, given that she wielded such influence only in private, it is hard to a.s.sess the extent of it. Certainly there are instances of her exercising authority independently of her husband. We find her intervening in matters of law, and pet.i.tioning him on behalf of her servants, London merchants, and others. When one of her Welsh tenants complained of the heavy-handedness of Henry's uncle, Jasper Tudor, Earl of Pembroke, Chief Justice of North Wales, she did not refer the matter to the King but sent a sharp reproof to Pembroke herself, which apparently achieved the desired result.32 Another letter from Elizabeth, undated but written in 1492, is among the Paston letters, that great collection of fifteenth-century correspondence; in it, she rebukes John de Vere, Earl of Oxford, in regard to disputed owners.h.i.+p of a manor: To our right trusty and beloved cousin, the Earl of Oxenford.

By the Queen.

Right trusty and entirely beloved cousin, we greet you well, letting you wit [understand] know how it is come unto our knowledge that, whereas ye newly entered upon our well-beloved Simon Bryant, gentleman, into the manor of Hemnals [Hempnalls Hall, Suffolk] in Cotton, descended and belonging unto him by right of inheritance, as it is said, ye thereupon desired the same Simon to be agreeable for his part to put all matters of variance then depending atween him and one Sir John Paston, knight, pretending a t.i.tle unto the said manor, into th'award and judgement of two learned men, by you named and chosen as arbiters atween them; and in case that the same arbiters of and upon the premises neither gave out nor made such award before the breaking up of Pasche [Easter] term, now last pa.s.sed, ye of your own offer granted and promised unto the said Simon, as we be informed, to restore him forthwith thereupon unto his possession of the said manor; and how it be that the same Simon, at your motion, and for the pleasure of your lords.h.i.+p, as he saith, agreed unto the said compromise, and thereupon brought and showed his evidence concerning, and sufficiently proving, his right in the said manor unto the said arbiters; and that they have not made nor holden out between the said parties any such award. Yet have not ye restored the same Simon unto his possession of the said manor but continually kept him out of the same, which, if it so be, is not only to his right great hurt and hindrance, but also our marvel. Wherefore we desire and pray you right affectuously that ye will rather, at the contemplation of these our letters, show unto the said Simon, in his rightful interest and t.i.tle in the said manor, all the favourable lords.h.i.+p that ye goodly may, doing him to be restored and put into his lawful and peaceable possession of the same, as far as reason, equity, and good conscience shall require, and your said promise, in such wise that he may understand himself herein to fare the better for our sake, as our very trust is in you.

Given under our signet at my lord's Palace of Westminster, the xxv day of June, Elesebeth.

Beneath is written: ”subscribed with the Queen's hand.” The existence of this letter-and there were probably more like it that are lost-proves that Elizabeth did sometimes venture into the world of public affairs. Here we see her being firm, fair, and concerned to right a wrong, and her influence must have been known to be effective, or Simon Bryant would surely not have judged it worth appealing to her for help. Two months after the letter was written, John Daubeney sent Sir John Paston, Oxford's councilor, ”a copy of the letter that the Queen sent to my lord of Oxford from the manor of Cotton for Bryant.” He reported that the Archbishop of York wanted Oxford to help Paston keep possession of the manor, and was going to ”inform the Queen of the matter, and because the Queen hath take[n to] her chamber,” he had sent a ring to the Lord Treasurer, anxious ”that he should excuse my lord of Oxford to the Queen,” for he really had no choice in the matter.33 As Queen, Elizabeth traveled widely, often with the King, sometimes on her own, showing the gentler face of monarchy to the people, which doubtless enhanced her popularity. Like her father, she had the common touch; she was charming and accessible. Certainly she was generous, and the multiplicity of her many charities and kindnesses bears testimony to a warm and giving heart. Sadly, her privy purse expenses survive for only one year, 150203,34 but they are packed with evidence of her goodness, her open-handedness, and her kindnesses, as will be seen; and no doubt the purse expenses for the missing years would have further served to show why she was such a popular queen.

Elizabeth was seen as ”a very n.o.ble woman,” as ”the most dis

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