The daughters of Henry VIII saw each other for the last time when Elizabeth came to London at the end of February 1558. She stayed briefly, spending just over a week at Somerset House before returning to Hatfield. The reason for the visit is unclear. She may have wanted to judge for herself whether there was any possibility that the queen could be pregnant; possibly, with her debts mounting, she also hoped to persuade Mary to increase her allowance. If so, she did not succeed. A monarch who could not afford to retake Calais was never going to provide extra funds for a wayward sibling. Sir Thomas Pope’s 18th-century biographer painted a picture of more harmonious relations between the sisters and an exchange of pleasant summer visits in 1558.It would be nice to think that there was a rapprochement, but there is no evidence that the idyllic picnics described ever took place.
23
But Elizabeth did not provoke Mary again. Feria visited the princess when he made a second trip to England in June. He found her content with her situation and pleased with Philip’s support. She might be in financial difficulties but her confidence about her future was higher than it had ever been, and with good reason. The long-awaited marriage of Mary Queen of Scots and the future Francis II of France had taken place on 25 April 1558. Philip was well aware of the danger posed by the young Scottish queen and her claim to the throne of England. He needed Elizabeth and she knew it.
Throughout the spring and summer England remained in a state of high alert, fearful of French invasion. But none came, and Mary’s navy continued to acquit itself in exemplary fashion. On 13 July, Captain John Malen, commanding ten ships sent to protect Habsburg-held Dunkirk, fired on French forces attempting to take the town and was instrumental in giving the victory to Philip’s forces.Though some fighting continued, and an attempt by Admiral Clinton to mount a counter-attack on Brittany failed, the war in France was essentially over, to the great relief of Mary and her government.
For now they faced a much greater foe, one that could not be overcome by arms or diplomacy. It moved, unseen, among the people, equally at home in town or countryside. No one - least of all the well-to-do, whom it targeted so effectively - could be sure that they would escape. Of all the misfortunes wreaked by forces beyond the control of man, this was the most feared.
Disease was stalking Mary’s kingdom. In 1557, Charles Wriothesley wrote in his
Chronicle
: ‘This summer reigned in England divers strange and new sicknesses, taking men and women in their heads; as strange agues and fevers, whereof many died.’
24
In the countryside and in the towns people began to fall ill with unexplained fevers and a general malaise that sapped their strength, often over a long period of time. Death was not always sudden, but for many it was inescapable. During the summer of 1558, the situation deteriorated, accelerating to produce the greatest mortality crisis of the 16th century.The result was a demographic disaster of huge proportions, with nearly 40 per cent of the country affected. In 1558/9, the number of deaths reported was 124 per cent above the national average. Burials exceeded baptisms in parish registers almost everywhere. Among the major towns of England, only Hull and Shrewsbury were not severely affected.
25
The situation grew worse as the summer gave way to autumn. In the fields the harvest lay ungathered: ‘Much corn was lost … for lack of workmen and labourers.’
The governor of the Isle of Wight, Lord St John, reported to the queen at the beginning of September that sickness was affecting more than half the people in Portsmouth, Southampton and the island itself. A month later, it was noted in Dover that ‘the people that die daily are those that come out of the ships and such poor people as come out of Calais’.
26
Certainly, the extent of the epidemic was not confined to England. Much of Europe was affected as well. Sir Thomas Gresham was alarmed to discover Sir Thomas Pickering extremely ill in Dunkirk. He told the privy council that he found his colleague (a man who was the same age as the queen) ‘very sore sick of this new burning ague. He has had four sore fits and is brought very low, and in danger of his life if they continue as they have done.’
27
Pickering recovered, but only very slowly. And still the epidemic tightened its grip. When the parliament of 1558 met for its second session on 5 November 1558 there was so much absenteeism that some towns feared that their interests would go unrepresented.
The epidemic came after a year of good harvests and was particularly deadly among the well-nourished ruling class. This points to it being a new type of virus, probably related to influenza. It was certainly not the plague, whose symptoms were well known and recognised, nor does it seem to have been an outbreak of the sweating sickness, which had last visited England in 1551. The sweat, as it was known, was first seen in England in 1485, but though it was almost certainly viral, it had different characteristics to the illnesses of 1558. Death within 24 hours was quite common with the sweat.There were even cases of people who had seemed quite healthy a few minutes before literally dropping dead.
28
The 1558 sickness took longer to rob its victims of life. But it did so with impunity. Godliness was no deterrent to its onward path; so many priests died ‘that a great number of parishes were unserved and no curates to be gotten’. Nor was greatness any defence. Chief among the victims of that terrible year were Cardinal Pole and the queen herself.
The first indication that something was seriously wrong came at the end of August. As the royal household prepared to remove from Hampton Court, where it had spent the summer, Jane Dormer fell ill. Her indisposition must have been unpleasant, since Mary ‘would not suffer her to go in the barge by water, but sent her by land in her own litter, and her physician to attend to her’.This kind treatment was typical of the way Mary looked after those who served her. Combined with Jane’s own youth, perhaps, it facilitated her recovery. Yet when Mary arrived at the palace of St James a few days later, there was an ominous development. She asked after Jane, ‘who met her at the stairfoot [and] told her that she was reasonably well. The queen answered “So am not I.” She retired to her apartments “and never came abroad again”.’
29
The queen was stricken by fevers, slowly sinking into greater and greater weakness. It was not a dramatic decline, but it was remorseless. As the weeks passed, she rallied occasionally, still taking an interest in government. Her recovery was not despaired of until around the end of October, when it became apparent to everyone, Mary included, that she was not going to survive.
By then, she knew that one of the key figures in her life, Charles V, was gone. He had died peacefully on 21 September at his retreat in Extremadura, in the south-west of Spain. God granted him two tranquil years in the warmth of the sun: ‘No noise of his armies, with which he had often made the world tremble, had followed him to the monastery of Yuste; he had forgotten his steel-clad battalions and his floating banners as completely as if all the days of his life had been passed in that solitude.’
30
The wars were truly in the past for him, and the brief period when he gave up public life does seem to have been a happy one. A mere month later, his sister Mary of Hungary was preparing, unwillingly but dutifully, to return to the Netherlands as regent when she, too, expired. Still with his army in Flanders, Philip received firm news of his father’s death only on 1 November. By that time, reports from London indicated that his wife did not have long to live. But there was never any question that he would be there to comfort her on her deathbed. As well as attending to the arrangements for the funerals of his father and aunt, he was pursuing a diplomatic solution to the war and coping with the refusal of Emanuel Philibert to continue as regent in the Netherlands. His hands were completely full. Reeling under the strain, he found an emotional outlet in writing frequent letters to his sister Juana:‘You may imagine what a state I am in,’ he told her.‘It seems to me that everything is being taken from me at once.’Yet he knew that he needed to keep England on his side. It would be important to ensure that Elizabeth succeeded to the throne smoothly and, he hoped, gratefully. So Feria was sent off once more to England, under instruction to manage the transition.
He found part of his task already done.Though Mary was prostrated and often delirious, during her more lucid moments she had gone through a journey of self-realisation - of the acceptance of death but also the acknowledgement that she must face up to the responsibility of being a queen. She knew she must nominate her successor, for England’s sake. It was a difficult but courageous decision that Elizabeth herself evaded when her time came.
The first stage of this process came at the end of October, when Mary made a codicil to her will. In it, she acknowledged that she was ‘presently sick and weak in body (and yet of whole and perfect remembrance, our Lord be thanked)’ but that ‘God hath hitherto sent me no fruit nor heir of my body’. She asked her ‘next heir and successor’ to honour her will, specifying her desire that the provisions she had made for religious houses and the establishment of a soldiers’ hospital be realised. But Mary recognised that Philip would have no further role to play in England after her death, though she asked him ‘for the ancient amity sake that hath always been between our most noble progenitors … to show himself as a father in his care, as a brother or member of the realm in his love and favour and as a most assured and undoubted friend in his power and strength to my said heir and successor’.
31
But precisely who that successor was she could not quite yet bring herself to say.
The codicil was signed on 28 October.Ten days later, probably as the result of pressure from Parliament via the council, the queen sent for William Cordell, the speaker of the House of Commons. We do not know what passed between them but Mary had finally accepted that her sister would succeed her. On 8 November, Sir Thomas Cornwallis, controller of the queen’s household, and the secretary to the privy council, John Boxall, arrived at Hatfield to tell Elizabeth that the queen had named her as the heir to the throne. Jane Dormer also claimed to have taken some of Mary’s jewels to the princess, together with a request that she would pay the queen’s debts and maintain the Catholic religion as the Marian Church had established it. The date of this visit is unknown, and there is no evidence that she either accompanied the two councillors or that she went with her future husband, Feria, when he arrived to see Elizabeth on 10 November. Jane was a very elderly lady when she recalled what had happened, but though her memory may have been faulty regarding details, there is no reason to suppose she made up the entire episode. She recalled that Elizabeth had assured her ‘that the earth might open and swallow her up alive’ if she were not a true Catholic.
32
But to others, Elizabeth gave a subtly different message: ‘I promise this much, that I will not change it, provided only that it can be proved by the word of God, which shall be the only foundation and rule of my religion.’
Was Mary making a gesture of last-minute conciliation in sending Jane Dormer to her sister? Perhaps her conscience told her that she should not die full of animosity towards Elizabeth. Despite her extreme state, Mary knew that her successor would do whatever she wanted. It was an appeal to a better nature that Mary never believed that the adult Elizabeth possessed.
Feria viewed the entire situation in England as most alarming from Philip’s perspective. His master’s influence was gone, replaced by self-serving ingratitude among the councillors and a strongly independent outlook from the queen-in-waiting.The count was taken aback by how much Elizabeth’s attitude had changed since he last saw her in June. His meeting with her started well enough:‘During the meal we laughed and enjoyed ourselves a great deal,’ he wrote. Afterwards, Elizabeth invited him to speak more freely to her, saying that only two or three of her women who spoke nothing but English should remain. She began well enough, assuring Feria that she would maintain good relations with Philip:‘when she was in prison, your majesty had shown her favour and helped her to obtain her release. She felt that it was not dishonourable to admit that she had been a prisoner; on the contrary, it was those who had put her there who were dishonoured because she had never been guilty of having acted or said anything against the queen, nor would she ever confess otherwise.’ Her indignation struck Feria forcibly, as did her assertion that she owed her present position to the people of England, not to Philip or to the English nobility. He could see that ‘she was determined to be governed by no one’.There was a cold reaction to the news that Philip had ordered all his pensioners and servants in England to serve her ‘should the need arise’. She would be the one to determine, she said, whether they should continue receiving money from Philip. Then she went on to complain bitterly that her sister had deprived her of the means of meeting her debts while sending large sums of money and jewels out of the country to her husband.This Feria parried. Elizabeth could investigate the matter, of course, but she would find out that Philip ‘had given much more to the queen than she ever gave to your majesty’.