Even so, the penalty against Sir Richard was considered unusually harsh, even for the Chamber. Just six days later, the Court of High Commission considered Mary’s petition for a separation, and demanded Grenville also pay his wife alimony of £350 a year.
Of course, Sir Richard couldn’t pay the fine or the alimony. He no longer had any access to the income from Mary’s estates. New trustees had been appointed: Philip Herbert, who had inherited his brother’s title as the new Earl of Pembroke; and George Cutteford’s old friend the Earl of Dorset.25 The odds against Sir Richard claiming any income were stacking up fast. His disastrous marriage was ruining his life.
Meanwhile, the tenants of the Fitz estates were protesting that they would not pay their rents, as they no longer knew to whom it was due. Not surprising considering the number of trustees, owners and leaseholders who had claimed the Fitz estates over the years: John Fitz, the Courtenays, all of Mary’s husbands and on to the Earls of Pembroke and Dorset, all in the space of less than thirty years. The tenants couldn’t keep up with all the changes in management.
In Fleet prison, Sir Richard was in a sorry state. Prisoners were dependent for their upkeep on the support of friends and relatives, but Sir Richard had no one left willing to assist him. He had been taken from his luxurious life at Fitzford and ended up starving in the filthy conditions at the Fleet, unable to satisfy any of his many creditors.
While he was in prison, one of his servants at Fitzford was accused of stealing Grenville’s clothes. The items included a fine linen shirt embroidered with gold and pearls, a waistcoat worked with silver gilt and gems, and 100 linen cuffs valued then at over £100.26 Grenville was obviously a man of extravagant tastes, now reduced to severe deprivation.
To make matters worse for Sir Richard, Sir Francis Courtenay stepped up his own attacks on the poor man. Two of Sir Francis’ officials turned up at Fitzford to search for evidence of coin clipping, a terrible crime in the seventeenth century where valuable metals were clipped from the edges of coins to be smelted and sold; the equivalent of theft from the Crown.27 As an official of the Stannaries, it was Sir Francis Courtenay’s duty to have the matter investigated.
It seems that Sir Richard’s household had been warned they were coming. Although the officials interrogated the servants, including Sir Richard’s Aunt Catherine, and pulled the house apart in search of tools and other evidence, what little they found was insufficient to support a prosecution.
Meanwhile, the children left at Fitzford were suffering in much-reduced circumstances. Mary was battling with Sir Richard to be given permission to see them, while Sir Richard refused her access to their children until he was discharged of all her debts, for which, as her husband, he remained liable – despite their separation. Mary Howard countered that she would pay him nothing until she was permitted to see her children. The battle raged on and on.
Sir Richard made a desperate appeal to the Earl of Dorset, to require Mary to provide for the needs of their children, for his own needs while in prison, and for his aunt still overseeing the household at Fitzford. It appears that Mary grudgingly obliged, and at the same time obtained a ‘divorce’28 from Sir Richard, on grounds of his having had an adulterous relationship during their marriage, one that had resulted in an illegitimate child. An ironic claim, considering her own extra-marital affairs; there is no information on the identity of the bastard child or the other woman involved. In 1644, a young man called Joseph Grenville appeared during the English Civil War. Then sixteen, he was thought to be the illegitimate son of Sir Richard Grenville, and proof of Sir Richard’s notorious womanising. Joseph must have been born sometime in 1628, just before (or soon after) Sir Richard married Mary, so perhaps Mary’s case had some basis in fact.
Greater irony was yet to come. In December 1631, George Cutteford joined Sir Richard as an inmate of Fleet Prison.29 Cutteford had been counter-sued by Grenville, for not paying Grenville the rent on the Walreddon Estate, and obstinately disobeying a Court Order to pay the arrears. Sir Richard must have been delighted to find his old adversary in the cell next door, but his pleasure was soon blighted. With assistance, probably from the Earl of Dorset, George was permitted by the Warden of Fleet Prison to come and go as he pleased and to live in his own lodgings without any restraint. George’s close friendship with Theophilus Howard and the Earl of Dorset had paid off handsomely in George’s favour, and George found himself staying at many fine homes in and around London for the period of his incarceration – the Howards and Mary were all in London, the Earl of Dorset was at nearby Knole House in Kent.
It is quite probable that George re-established his relationship with Mary while they were there together.30 In July 1631, Mary re-affirmed in writing her lover’s right to the Walreddon Estates31, so she and Cutteford were back on amicable terms, almost as though her marriage to Sir Richard Grenville had never happened.
It was not unusual for a prisoner to be allowed temporary release to retrieve papers and sort out his affairs, but George’s situation was unusually relaxed. He might not have been in prison at all, for all the luxurious lifestyle he ‘suffered’, and he was eventually allowed to return home to Devon in June 1632, leaving the furious Sir Richard to languish in prison for a further horrific sixteen months.32
In October 1633, Sir Richard managed to escape from the Fleet prison, probably as a ‘day release’ who never returned. He quickly found himself a fighting commission with the Swedish army, still battling the Thirty Years War in Germany. There Richard would remain for five years, bitterness brewing inside him, until at last he could exact his revenge – not against the Courts or judges, the Howards, or even his wife, though he had cause to despise them all. No, his revenge was of a much more personal nature, targeted specifically at ‘that pious Puritan lawyer’ and low-status land-grabber, George Cutteford. George Cutteford came to personify everything that Sir Richard despised about the religious, economic and social changes occurring in England. Cutteford, twenty years older than Richard, probably reminded Richard of his elder brother and his unyielding father. Cutteford was the prime target for all of Richard’s festering resentments.
When Cutteford and Grenville met again, England would be in the thralls of Civil War, and Grenville would be awarded a free licence, by King Charles himself, to exact his own brand of sadistic revenge on anyone who had ever crossed him.
George Cutteford was first on his list.
PURITANS IN SEVENTEENTH
CENTURY ENGLAND
The Puritans were an amorphous group rising from the English Protestant movement of the sixteenth and seventeenth century. Frequently used today as meaning the opposite of hedonism, with a preference for plain clothes and simple religious ceremonies, Puritanism was a term used at the time to refer to anyone who held particular or distinctive non-conformist views of religious rituals.
The Church of England had been officially formed under Queen Elizabeth I, but, for Puritan Protestants, the Church’s rituals and hierarchies too much reflected Catholicism and popery. They hated the Book of Common Prayer introduced by King James I. They sought for purity of religious ritual, with nothing to separate the individual from their communications with God, hence their preference for simple decor in their meeting houses, and inspiring preachers rather than overbearing Latin-spouting bishops. Feeling persecuted by the Church of England, many congregations sought out more sympathetic communities, some heading off to Holland, and one such congregation making the famous voyage on the Mayflower to establish a colony in New England.33
Back at home, under Charles I and his Archbishop Laud, and influenced by Catholic Queen Henrietta Maria, the Church of England grew even more Catholic in nature, with Church decoration taking on a grand scale and the congregation separated from the altar and the rituals of mass by newly-installed railings. This was not the personal relationship with God to which the Puritans aspired. The railings themselves caused an outcry across the country.34
Archbishop Laud saw Puritanism
as a threat to the Church of England, and, fearing a schism in the Church, King Charles used the harsh measures of the Star Chamber to persecute religious dissenters. The punishments were horrific, and the illegality of the procedures, breaching ancient habeas corpus legislation, caused uproar amongst Puritans and Members of Parliament. Even those who did not support the Puritan cause were dismayed by Charles’ punishments. Puritans would form the backbone of the Parliamentary forces opposing the repressive actions of King Charles I, often supported by families of ‘old money’ who had been snubbed by James I and Charles I, such as the Earls of Suffolk and the Earl of Bedford.35
The resulting conflict would bring England to Civil War.
* * *
Notes
1 Radford, 1890, p. 81.
2 See L1508M/E/Legal/Court and Estate papers/39 for further details of the arrest, held at Devon Record Office. Miller, 1979, incorrectly identifies Edward Courtenay as a servant of the Howards.
3 George Cutteford received payments from the Stannary Court during 1630. After the death of the 3rd Earl of Pembroke in 1630, who was then the Lord Warden of the Stannaries, it seems the Warden title was transferred directly to his brother, Philip Herbert, the 4th Earl of Pembroke, but there was a delay. Some records show the title passing first to Francis Courtenay. It’s possible that Francis Courtenay inherited the title of Deputy Lord Warden of the Stannaries, from his father, and acted as the Lord Warden for a period just after the death of the 3rd Earl of Pembroke.
4 See L1508M/E/Court and Estate papers/39 for Theophilus Howard’s signature as a member of the Privy Council.
5 See L1508M/E/Court and Estate papers/39 for the Earl of Dorset’s signature as a member of the Privy Council.
6 Penfold, P.A., 1964, as reproduced on British History Online: www.british-history.ac.uk.
77 Miller, 1979, p. 180n.
8 Miller, 1979, p. 180n.
9 Miller, 1979, pp. 22 and 23.
10 Sir John Hawkins’ mother was Joan Trelawney; see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Hawkins. There are many excellent biographies and genealogical charts online, which show the extent of the intermarriages between the Trelawneys, the Hawkins family, the Courteneys, the Drakes and the Seymours in Devon in the seventeenth century.
11 Records indicate that Margaret Seymour, the daughter of Edward Seymour of Berry Pomeroy, 2nd Baronet, married Francis Trelawney, son of the High Sheriff of Cornwall, John Trelawney. This is likely to be the Francis Trelawney described in Miller, 1979, guardian to George Halse. See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sir_Edward_Seymour,_2nd_Baronet. Edward Seymour’s grandfather was the elder brother of Jane Seymour, third wife of King Henry VIII.
1212 Letters from Edward Seymour, 3rd Baronet, indicate that his brother-in-law, Francis Trelawney, loaned his son, Ned Seymour, £1,300, which took some time to pay back.
13 Elizabeth Seymour married Sir Francis Courtenay; her younger sister Margaret married Francis Trelawney.
14 Miller, 1979, p. 72.
15 Miller, 1979, p. 186n, gives an excellent and detailed explanation for Mary’s outstanding debts to the Court of Wards.
16 Miller, 1979, p. 28.
17 Gowing, 1996.
18 Radford, 1890.
19 Radford, 1890, p. 82.
20 Radford, 1890, p. 82.
21 Miller, 1979, p. 32.
22 Miller, 1979, p. 34.
23 Miller, 1979, p. 35.
24 For a list of the Lord Wardens of the Cinque Ports, see: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lord_Warden_of_the_Cinque_Ports#17th_century
25 Radford, 1890.
26 Miller, 1979, p. 28.
27 Miller, 1979, p. 33.
28 Miller, 1979, p. 38. Divorce was very expensive, and still very rare, in the seventeenth century, and certainly divorce did not exist in the modern sense, so Richard Grenville and Mary Howard were just formally separated by the courts. See Miller, 1979, p. 187n for a full explanation of the judicial processes involved. Although ‘divorced’, Sir Richard Grenville was still Mary Howard’s husband by law and therefore still liable for her debts, even though he was also liable for alimony payments – a very inconvenient combination in his case. You have to feel a bit sorry for the poor man.
29 Miller, 1979, p. 187n.
30 Mary had houses at Southwark, on the banks of the Thames, and Lewisham, where George Cutteford likely stayed during his ‘imprisonment’. The Howards also had residences in London, and the Earl of Dorset’s fine estate of Knole was just south east of London.
31 D1508M/Moger/436, 1631. Held at Devon Record Office.
32 Miller, 1979, p. 38.
33 Philbrick, 2006. A wonderful account not only of the journey of the Mayflower, but also the strange mix of people, both puritan and military, in that early settlement; Philbrick’s depictions of puritan life, and its many contradictions, and their relationships with the native tribes of America, are superb.
3434 Purkiss, 2006.
35 Sackville-West, 2010, gives a wonderful description of the build-up to the English Civil War, and the motivations of the different families choosing sides.
Chapter Seven
Declarations of War
Many story-tellers criticise Mary as a ‘bad mother’, neglecting her children at Fitzford1, but during Sir Richard’s five-year absence, Mary did try to spend time with her family, travelling frequently between Devon, Dorset and London2 while running the Fitz estates, all the time writing to George Cutteford.
In her letters to George, Mary would affectionately address him as ‘Honest Guts’ or ‘Good Guts’3. She would also teasingly call him ‘Froward Guts’, froward meaning obstinate, contrary or disobedient. ‘Guts’ may seem a strange nickname, but Mary was prone to using childish nicknames. She called her uncle Alexander Courtenay ‘Sandr’, for example. There is something about her name for George Cutteford that suggests she knew him from early childhood. ‘Guts’ is the kind of teasing epithet a child would use to a trusted friend, suggesting again, as other documents indicate, that George Cutteford had always been there for her, working with the family since she was born.
Okehampton Castle, from Britton’s collection Beauties of England and Wales.
George Cutteford returned to Walreddon as Mary’s steward, to oversee her lands in Devon and Cornwall, and entertain her friends. Theophilus Howard was a frequent visitor, enjoying the sports of the countryside in Cutteford’s company. From his own hunting estate at Lulworth Castle in Dorset, Theophilus sent half a buck to Cutteford with many thanks for his ‘noble entertainment’, and wished he was back in Devon with his friend.4 It’s fascinating how often food was transported many miles as gifts between the landed gentry in the seventeenth century. Despite the logistics and cost, Lady Howard while in London frequently wrote to Cutteford requesting some game or poultry, with specific instructions for its preparations. One fine example is worth reproducing here:
Honest Guts,
You shall have a ton of wine to come, when mine does; and Mr... would have given me a hogshead of strong wine, but I told him he would do me a greater favour to make it for you, which he will do and send it you... I thank you for the letter, whose advice I wish I had ever followed, but awful experience has made me wiser. I thank you for my puddings, they are very good. I pray send me a whole flitch of bacon up, and some tongues and four turkeys, many boned and baked together, two one upon another with their breasts together, and piece of fat thin pork between them. So with my love to you, I rest,
Your true friend till death,
Mary Howard5 [spelling improved for clarity]
Sadly, all the original letters are not to be found; they are currently not amongst the papers that survive from Cutteford’s estate6. Cutteford’s replies have also disappeared. However, the records that remain illuminate an affectionate friendship, and a woman of wealth busy about the daily affairs of her estates. What
advice Cutteford offered, that Mary wished she had followed, is unfortunately lost to history, along with a clarification of what she means by ‘fat thin pork’. Some things are best left to the imagination.
Mary’s first letter to Cutteford was written while she was staying at the Earl of Suffolk’s house in Dover; the second was sent from his Lulworth Castle in Dorset. Most show her anxious requests for news from Devon, which she viewed as her home. She rarely mentions the children by name, and sadly never mentions George Halse/Howard, though there is an implicit plea for information. Perhaps their son travelled with her. When she asks for news of the estate, there is a sense that she is as much – if not more – interested in the people she has left there than the properties themselves.
It is worth noting that Mary always signed herself Mary Howard, though she was still in fact Dame Mary Grenville, despite the ‘divorce’ proceedings.7 Mary would spend the rest of her life disassociating herself, in vain, from her marriage with Sir Richard Grenville.
The letters that survive reveal a passionate lady who has not been well educated; her penmanship is very poor. This was not unusual, even for a woman of high rank. In The Verneys, by Adrian Tinniswood, the wealthy Verney girls, educated at home, are noted for their similarly poor penmanship.8 A woman’s education in the seventeenth century did not qualify her for serious writing – only for letters to family. Women were not educated with the aim of running a business or negotiating contracts; many women had to teach themselves even the basic paperwork required for running a household. As a result, Mary’s spelling is inconsistent and often child-like in style. The son of a sailor was better educated than the wealthy woman who employed him.
Her other letters show that, although Sir Richard was absent, Mary still had trouble enough to vex her. The tenant at one of her properties in Milemead near Tavistock, called Tom Robinson, tormented her. Her uncle Alexander Courtenay (‘Uncle Sandr’) advised her to have the man arrested, but she could not bring herself to do so. Only one side of the conversation survives, as George’s letters in reply sadly no longer exist, making it difficult to investigate the matter. But it is obvious from this brief letter that the Courtenays maintained an advisory role over Mary’s business throughout her life.
The Devil Comes to Dartmoor Page 10