Perhaps they thought the arrival of Sir Charles Howard of Clun to oversee the restoration of the old Fitz estates would help the fortunes of the ailing town? Charles Howard was, after all, the son of one of the Lords of the Treasury, financial mis-dealings aside. Perhaps Charles would have the intelligence and knowledge to turn the town’s fortunes around and increase prosperity for everyone?
Sadly, he didn’t.
Sir William Courtenay’s own disquiet about the Howards had nothing to do with religion or local economics. If Mary’s marriage to Charles Howard was successful – if she bore him a son – the Fitz fortune, once entailed to Mary’s mother Bridget, was lost to the Courtenays forever. If Charles Howard had a son, Sir William could lose all claim over his daughter’s (and now grand-daughter’s) inheritance. But how was he to prevent a young married couple having a son? In time, it was his agent George Cutteford who would provide an unusual solution.
George Cutteford was probably ordered to ingratiate himself into the new household, and report any developments back to Richard Halse, who would in turn keep Sir William informed. Cutteford’s first priority would be to keep the estates together and solvent, as much as possible, though Mary never did pay off her wardship fees to the Court of Wards. It is possible that Mary simply withheld them out of spite.
Though there is no written record of George Cutteford’s feelings towards Mary at the time, he must have felt sorry for this young woman sorely used by the Court of Wards, auctioned off to suitor after suitor. Indeed, a friendship seems to have blossomed between the pair, despite their very different status and backgrounds – a friendship that would not normally have been accepted by society of the seventeenth century, where social hierarchies were strictly maintained and defended. (Even clothing was determined by status, with strict punishments for transgressors.) George Cutteford was only the son of a sailor. Marriage to a customs officer’s daughter improved his standing, but he was still of a much lower class than the wife of Sir Charles Howard. It was a friendship, though, that was apparently never discouraged by Sir William Courtenay or the Halses.
Sir William’s plans to recover the estate from the Howards were to face a major hurdle. For all his Puritan background and education, George discovered that this young man, Charles Howard, this son of a privateer, was a difficult man not to like. Charles was very much a Howard; he enjoyed his drinking and his gambling, but not in a destructive manner – or at least, not at first – and was a gentleman of good standing who enjoyed social gatherings.
In turn, Charles became a good friend to George Cutteford. He invited George to meet the rest of the Howard family at their palatial homes in London and Saffron Walden and George was welcomed not as a servant – or even as an estate manager – but as a friend. How different the Howard lifestyle must have seemed to this man used to organising contracts for the lowly tenement buildings in ailing Tavistock, working as an associate of Richard Halse. Suddenly he found himself invited to lavish balls and hunting parties, standing alongside the wealthy and extravagant Howards. Theophilus Howard, eldest son of the Earl of Suffolk and heir to the estate, along with his cousin, the Earl of Dorset, would remain George’s good friends for life. In time, Dorset’s land agent, Thomas Robinson, would marry Anne Cutteford, George’s daughter.7
Arriving in the extensive and manicured gardens of Audley End in Saffron Walden, George Cutteford’s eyes must have been opened to a new way of life, a life of wealth and status he had never really experienced before; certainly not anything imagined by his parents struggling to live in their two-room apartment in a sailors’ tenement in Plymouth. Away from the Puritanical views of his wife, George enjoyed himself. Moreover, he realised that a better future lay in store for his children, if he could only make good use of these new connections. With the Howards and the Earl of Dorset as friends, the future for George Cutteford’s family looked very good indeed.
In the early days of the marriage, Mary seems to have found some happiness too. The Howards were always very kind to her, and she enjoyed their grand and gracious lifestyle. The extravagant parties and social gatherings were ideal opportunities for her to display her charms – she was beautiful, bright, though not demonstrably too intelligent for a woman of her class, and, according to the historians, a notorious flirt.
Charles’ father, the Earl of Suffolk, saw Mary as a welcome source of income. His excessive spending, his lavish building programme and the costs and subsequent failures of his investments in the first colonies in the New World8 would soon outstrip his income, so the money coming from all the Fitz estates, carefully managed by the amiable George Cutteford, was very welcome indeed.
The Earl of Suffolk was the King’s Lord High Treasurer and used his status to embezzle a little money for himself, but when he was caught by the King’s favourite, the Duke of Buckingham, his elaborate lifestyle suddenly soured. In October 1619, he found himself in prison and unable to pay the heavy fines imposed.
This was the moment Sir William Courtenay had been waiting for. Charles Howard’s father was suddenly facing a fine of £30,000, a phenomenal sum, and Charles was under considerable pressure to provide funds to pay the fine. It seemed that the Fitz estates would have to be sold off, piece by piece. Mary was horrified. She was a canny business woman herself, though she seems to have kept her own abilities at managing the estate a secret from Charles. He certainly never suspected that she had ambitions to keep the estate together by any means necessary. Mary knew her business better than Charles. She was determined to save her inheritance. Her grandfather, Sir William Courtenay, would eagerly come to the rescue.
Sir William suggested that he pay the Earl of Suffolk’s fine, with some assistance from the Earl of Pembroke, another of James I’s favourite courtiers; in return, Charles would hand the Fitz estates over to their keeping.9 Charles reluctantly agreed and the Earl of Pembroke and Sir William Courtenay became trustees of all the Fitz estates, with Sir William’s grand-daughter Mary retaining a life interest in them. Charles was permitted to cut and sell timber, which he continued to do, but the estates were now finally back in the hands of the triumphant Sir William Courtenay.
Within months, Charles left Fitzford. Perhaps he was needed by his family in London; perhaps he wished to escape the gloating Sir William Courtenay. Some blame the behaviour of his wife, whose reputation for flirting caused him much embarrassment. She showed, it is said, an amorous interest in every handsome man she met – including her husband’s dear friend George Cutteford.
Of course, Charles would never consider a man like George Cutteford to be any real threat. George was a sensible, responsible man, and, although raised in status by friendship, he was sure that George knew his place in the scheme of things. He was still the son of a sailor, not even qualified as a lawyer, so his employer’s wife would certainly be out of bounds. To Charles’ eyes, George was seemingly content in his occupation, his status, and his marriage. He certainly gave the appearance of being a happy family man, ambitious for his children, but not prone to immoral behaviour. George’s Puritan and charitable upbringing would surely deny him such temptations. Charles may even have laughed at the idea of his wife seducing the steward. Everyone presumed that nothing would come of the flirtation.
By 1620, Charles and Mary Howard had formally separated and Charles departed Tavistock in disgrace. He had lost his family’s claim to the Fitz properties, his father was ruined, and the rumours of his wife’s amorous liaisons spread far and wide. In the seventeenth century, a man could commit adultery and not lose his reputation – success with women was actually seen to increase his reputation. However, if a man’s wife strayed, his reputation was in ruins. Sometimes a husband would charge his wife with adultery – and the punishments on women were horrific – but the embarrassment attending such cases frequently prevented them from reaching a court.
Charles, to his credit, seems to have left quietly, with little if any fuss. He knew when he was beaten. Some say that he spent subsequent years t
ravelling in Europe10 though this is unlikely, with the Thirty Years War still raging. Of course, Charles may possibly have joined Horace Vere’s regiment heading to the battlefields in 1620; he certainly spent some time dealing with Howard family business in London, trying to live down the humiliation he had suffered.
Mary was probably pleased to see Charles go. Though the estate was officially in trust to her grandfather, she now controlled quite an empire, making her one of the wealthiest women in the country – and she had some plans of her own that she was about to put into action.
Within months of Charles leaving, Mary invited George Cutteford to live with her at Fitzford.11 She was then twenty-four; he was probably in his forties. Their affair had possibly started months before. With Charles’ departure, they could at last be together.
Over a number of years, George’s experiences with the Howard family had estranged him from his wife. Suddenly he found the courage to leave her. Together, Mary and George ran the estate, though their relationship was somehow kept a secret from the public. George’s wife Grace did not make a fuss, though the income George was making from the Fitz estates would have been some compensation. Perhaps she thought her husband would soon be home again; wives in the seventeenth century were not ones to complain – or at least not in public. Mary’s relatives have left no record of complaint either – perhaps they too did not see George Cutteford as a threat. They now had the Fitz estates, and there was nothing George could do that would be a danger to those arrangements. It is possible that Mary and George managed to keep their relationship a secret from everyone, but it seems highly unlikely. Gossip was one of the few entertainments of the time, so the secret could not be kept long – especially after Mary gave birth to George Cutteford’s son.
The birth of their child would prove to be a momentous occasion for everyone.
Notes
1 There exists a wonderful image of the view of Tavistock from Fitzford, engraved after a picture by H. Worsley and published in History of Devonshire in 1830 (and reproduced on the website www.ancestryimages.com). Unfortunately, I know very little more about the image, but it shows an idyllic scene of meadows and pastures overlooking the spire of the parish church.
2 See documents SAS/G23/5 and SAS/G23/34, from 1618 and 1625 respectively, held at East Sussex Record Office, for details of Thomas Robinson’s employment by Edward Sackville, Earl of Dorset.
3 UK Geneaology Archives notes the inheritance of the Earl of Bedford, at http://uk-genealogy.org.uk/england/Devon/towns/Tavistock.html. I also highly recommend the entertaining stories of Mrs Bray, including her 1838 book on the traditions and history of Devonshire. See Bray, p. 97.
4 Alford, 1891.
5 The Maynard’s School survives in Exeter, the third oldest girls’ school in Britain. Hele’s School is still in Plympton.
6 Woodcock, 2008.
7 See documents SAS/G23/5 and SAS/G23/34, from 1618 and 1625 respectively, held at East Sussex Record Office, for details of Thomas Robinson’s employment by Edward Sackville, Earl of Dorset. Also see PROB 11/285, the will of George Cutteford the younger, originally written in 1646 and held at the National Archives, for details of Anne’s marriage to Thomas Robinson.
8 The Earl of Suffolk and his eldest son Theophilus are listed as two of the hundreds of investors in the first colonies in North America, established by King James I. The investors came from all walks of life, from gentry to shop-keepers. The initial colonies failed, however, the investors losing their money. Just as the colonies started to return on their investments, King James I re-claimed all the land as belonging to the Crown and most investors never saw their money again; another reason for many people to be unhappy with the monarchy.
9 See Radford, p.78. In October 1619, the Fitz estates were transferred to Sir William Courtney and the Earl of Pembroke (and also his brother, the Earl of Montgomery). Many relating the story of Mary Howard blame Mary’s disreputable behaviour as the primary cause of Charles relinquishing the estate, but forget that at the very same time, the Howards were urgently raising money to pay off the Earl of Suffolk’s enormous fine.
10 Miller, 1979.
11 Miller, 1979, also Radford, 1890.
Chapter Four
An Heir Apparent
In 1622, Mary gave birth to a son and called him George. Everyone in Tavistock would have known he was not the child of Charles Howard. Sir Charles had been away at least eighteen months before the child was born, and naming the baby George did nothing to dispel the rumours.
James I. (Courtesy of the Library of Congress, Prints & Photographs Division, LC-USZ62-104640)
ILLICIT LIAISONS
In the seventeenth century, having a child outside of marriage could mean disaster, particularly for women. Punishments against such immorality were brutally severe.
In Bideford, a young girl became pregnant by her suitor, with sickening consequences. Her mother had allowed the engaged couple to live together in the family house, expecting a wedding any day. But the suitor, on hearing the news of the baby to come, panicked and ran, leaving the poor girl unmarried and pregnant. The court’s punishment was severe: the deserted young girl of about fifteen was paraded through the town and whipped in the town square.1
This type of punishment was not restricted to the lower classes. Frances Coke, the poor daughter of Lady Hatton who had been forced to marry John Villiers, found herself falling in love with Robert Howard (by odd coincidence, the older brother of Mary’s husband Charles Howard2). With John Villiers growing increasingly deranged, Frances spent her time in clandestine liaisons with her lover and eventually became pregnant. The Villiers family determined that the child could not be that of her husband as John was under severe restraint at the time to prevent him from harming himself. So Frances and Robert Howard were brought before the Court of High Commission and condemned to public penance.
Fortunately for Robert, Charles I had just come to the throne, and gave Robert a Coronation pardon. Frances was not so fortunate. She was required to pay a fine of £500 and condemned to walk barefoot, on a Sunday, from St Paul’s Cross (near the Cathedral in London) to the door of the Savoy Chapel near the Strand. If that wasn’t bad enough, she was required to wear only a white sheet and stand at the chapel door for all to see. Frances managed to escape, cleverly dressed as a page-boy. She and her lover fled to France, returning many years later, after the Duke of Buckingham, her brother-in-law, had been assassinated. Sadly for her, the old warrant was still enforced and Frances found herself imprisoned once more in the Westminster prison called the Gatehouse. Conditions there were appalling, but, undaunted, she paid off the gaoler and made her escape again. This time she had to travel alone to France, as Sir Robert was now incarcerated and only released on the promise that he would never see Frances again. Once free, he immediately broke his promise and sought out his lover in France. The King’s officials followed them, stubbornly determined to see justice done, and Frances was forced into a nunnery to hide, eventually dying in penury and never realising her inheritance.
Lacking any reliable forms of contraception, illegitimate children were quite common in seventeenth-century society. But because of such severe punishments, it was rare for anyone to bring them to the law’s attention; no one relished seeing their friends or neighbours prosecuted, even if the child was the result of immoral behaviour. So communities were full of ‘hidden’ children, with the mothers giving birth in secrecy and the children frequently brought up by grandmothers or married sisters.
* * *
Mary and George were determined to avoid prosecution for adultery. Before their baby was due, Mary hid away in the quiet seclusion of Walreddon, in the care of the Halses, her grandfather’s agents. The child was then brought up as though he was the son of Ann Halse, Richard Halse’s wife. Ann would have had to undergo the rituals of ‘veiling’, compulsory for new mothers (see ‘The Rituals of Childbirth’), in place of Mary, but that may have pu
blicly persuaded the local population of the boy’s parentage and Mary’s innocence. With gossiping servants around, everyone would have known the truth of the baby’s birth, but at least Anne Halse’s veiling created a socially acceptable lie. The boy was subsequently baptised George Halse, and Mary and her lover escaped prosecution.
There is also a sense that George Cutteford was well-liked in the community, born out by subsequent events. Admired for his honesty as well as his legal advice, no one wanted to see him prosecuted. So the secret was kept by everyone, and George Halse spent his first year hidden away at Walreddon.
THE RITUALS OF CHILDBIRTH
Having a baby in seventeenth-century England was a precarious endeavour3. The mother, if she survived the traumas of labour, was expected to remain in the same sheets in the birthing room, usually her bed chamber, for forty days after the baby was born, even if the baby did not survive. This was an age-old means of preventing infection, which was a mortal threat to the newborn and the mother. Many women complained about this imprisonment, with some justification – it must have been a horrible and claustrophobic experience to be trapped in the mess and the smell after giving birth. Women of the day put forward an argument that they should still be allowed to attend church, which was compulsory for everyone for the sake of their immortal souls.
The midwives then came up with a novel solution: women would be permitted to leave the birthing room to attend church, but only if they wore a white veil over their faces and sat in a special chair laid on in the church just for them. The veil was a sensible barrier to prevent new mothers catching diseases from anyone coughing around them. For a society apparently ignorant of the existence of bacteria or viruses, the midwives seemed surprisingly aware of them, and the means of transmitting disease. It would be many years before medicine caught up with their knowledge and experience.
The Devil Comes to Dartmoor Page 6