by Alison Weir
In fact, few of Elizabeth's palaces survive today. Whitehall burned down in 1698. Others did not survive the neglect of Oliver Cromwell's time, and those that did were too large or outdated for Georgian taste. Richmond was all but destroyed during the Commonwealth, and only the outer gatehouse now remains. Greenwich Palace, the royal apartments in the Tower and Nonsuch Palace were demolished in the late seventeenth century. The ruinous Woodstock was pulled down to make way for Blenheim Palace, whilst Somerset House has been completely rebuilt. One wing of Newhall survives, and the royal apartments at Windsor were extensively remodelled in the early nineteenth century. Very little remains today to testify to the lost splendours of the Tudor court.
The court itself was not only the seat of government but also the stage on which the Queen could make a magnificent display. It was also the cultural heart of England and a showcase for the arts, intended to impress foreign visitors. Elizabeth spent lavishly on her court, since she understood the political importance of visible wealth. Court taste in painting, music, costume and other decorative arts, which naturally reflected the tastes of the Queen, set trends that were followed in the great country houses.
Queen and court followed an almost unvarying annual routine. In the autumn, when the legal term began and Parliament might be sitting, the court would return to Whitehall, Elizabeth being received at the gates of London by the Mayor and aldermen in their best furred gowns, and processing through the streets, revelling in the acclaim of her subjects. The Accession Day tilts took place on 17 November, and the Queen usually kept Christmas at Whitehall or Hampton Court, with the twelve days of festivities reaching their climax on Twelfth Night, the Feast of the Epiphany, when gifts were exchanged and the Queen herself presented offerings of gold, frankincense and myrrh in the Chapel Royal. Elizabeth normally spent Christmas Day itself in prayer. Male courtiers were expected to remain at court for the revels, and few dared to sneak away to their families 'lest the Queen take offence'. Dancing and card games such as primero were the chief pastimes, and even the careful Elizabeth would indulge in a moderate wager. Fortunately, she was a lucky card player, although Ben Jonson, who never liked her, claimed - probably maliciously - that she cheated. There were also plays- as many as eleven were staged at court during the Christmas season, and more during Shrovetide.
Whilst she was in London, the Queen was frequently seen in public, going to dine at the houses of noblemen, attending weddings, watching bear baitings and enjoying military displays or river fetes. Her state barge was kept moored at Paris Garden, on the Surrey shore of the Thames. Hentzner described it as having 'two splendid cabins, beautifully ornamented with glass windows, painting and gilding'. The Queen's cabin was luxurious with cushions of cloth of gold and a crimson velvet rug strewn with flower petals. The barge could move swiftly, and required twenty oarsmen to man it.
Early in the New Year Elizabeth would move to Oatlands, Greenwich, Nonsuch or Richmond, but would return to Whitehall in the spring for the rituals of Maundy Thursday and Easter. In April, she would go to Windsor for the Garter ceremonies on St George's Day. During the summer, Queen and court would go on progress, then spend the early autumn at Oatlands, Hampton Court, Windsor or Nonsuch before returning to Whitehall.
Elizabeth's daily routine varied. She was, she claimed, 'not a morning woman', and would not be seen in public until she had completed her lengthy toilette, although she was fond of taking a brisk walk before breakfast in her private gardens. Rarely was she seen in deshabille, although in 1578 Lord Shrewsbury's son encountered her hanging out of a window, listening unseen to people gossiping: 'My eye was full towards her; she showed to be greatly ashamed thereof, for that she was unready and in her nightstuff. So when she saw me after dinner, as she went to walk, she gave me a great fillip on the forehead and told the Lord Chamberlain how I had seen her that morning, and how much ashamed she was.'
On another occasion, when she was fully dressed, the Queen leaned out of her window and espied in her garden a melancholy Sir Edward Dyer, who had unsuccessfully importuned her for a post at court. In Italian, Elizabeth asked him, 'What do you think about when you think of nothing?'
'Of a woman's promise,' he replied meaningfully.
'Anger makes dull men witty, but it keeps them poor,' retorted the Queen, then withdrew from the window before the impertinent Dyer had a chance to answer.
Because she normally kept late hours, working through the night, Elizabeth often slept late in the mornings. She was served breakfast -manchet bread, meat pottage, ale, beer or wine - in her bedchamber, then would work and play until dinner time, which was at eleven o'clock. 'Six or seven galliards of a morning, besides music and singing, were her ordinary exercise. First in the morning she spent some time at her devotions, then she betook herself to the dispatch of her civil affairs, reading letters, ordering answers, considering what should be brought before the Council, and consulting with her ministers. When she had thus wearied herself she would walk in a shady garden or pleasant gallery, without any other attendants than a few learned men, then she took coach and passed, in the sight of her people, to the neighbouring groves and fields, and sometimes would hunt and hawk; there was scarce a day but she employed some part of it in reading and study,' noted a courtier, Edmund Bohun, after observing the Queen at Richmond. Harington recalled that 'Her Highness was wont to soothe her ruffled temper with reading every morning. She did much admire Seneca's wholesome advisings, when the soul's quiet was flown away.'
In the afternoons the Queen might sleep a little; she was also prone to taking brief naps at other times. Supper was at five o'clock, then there would be entertainment until nine o'clock and the ceremony of Good Night in the Presence Chamber, after which light snacks were dispensed from the buttery. Then an usher would call, 'Have in for the night!' and an Esquire of the Body would clear the state rooms and the watch would begin its patrols of the palace precincts. Courtiers were expected to retire for the night at this point, although many did not.
Mention has already been made of the Queen's patronage of musicians and painters. She was also a great lover of pageants, masques and dramas, and many plays, including some written by William Shakespeare and Benjonson, were performed at her court, usually at an average cost of 400 each. Tradition has it that after a 1597 production of The History of Henry IV, with the Humorous Conceits of Sir John Falstaff, Elizabeth was so taken with the character of Falstaff that she asked Shakespeare to write a play in which Falstaff falls in love. The result was The Merry Wives of Windsor, said to have been hurriedly written in a fortnight, but much enjoyed by the Queen. Twelfth Night was also written for a performance at court in 1601.
Elizabeth was passionate about the theatre, and actively protected it from the Puritans who wanted it banned. In 583, she formed her own theatre company, the Queen's Men, of whom her favourite performer was the comic actor, Richard Tarleton, whose antics could make her weep with laughter. At one performance she 'bade them take away the knave for making her laugh so excessively'.
The Queen also loved pageants, and sometimes took part in those staged in her Presence Chamber, although she always appeared as herself, and it was not difficult to persuade her to join in the dancing that invariably followed.
When Elizabeth entertained, she did so on a grand scale: her ceremonies and receptions were lavish and impressed visitors with their orderliness and solemnity: in t6oi, one Italian envoy claimed he would never in any other place 'see a court which, for order, surpasses this one', which was 'at once gay, decent and superb'.
Elizabeth's was a very visible monarchy. Every Sunday she went in procession from the Chapel Royal to the Presence Chamber, and people crowded to see her, falling to their knees as she walked 'grandly' past; she often paused to speak to some of them. Lord Herbert of Cherbury remembered the first time that he, an aspiring young courtier, was present on one of these occasions: 'As soon as she saw me, she stopped, '
and swearing her usual oath, "God's death!", dema
nded, "Who is this?" Everybody there present looked upon me, but no man knew me until Sir James Croft, a [Gentleman] Pensioner, finding the Queen stayed, returned and told who I was, and that I had married Sir William Herbert's daughter. The Queen hereupon looked attentively at me and, swearing again her ordinary oath, said, "It is a pity he was married so young!", and thereupon gave her hand to kiss twice, both times gently clapping me on the cheek.'
A German visitor, Leopold von Wedel, witnessed the Sunday procession in 1584 and described how the Queen 'showed herself very gracious and accepted with a humble mien letters of supplication from both rich and poor. At her passing the people fell on their knees, and she said, "Thank you with all my heart." Then eight trumpets gave the signal for dinner.'
Wedel also noted the easy familiarity of the Queen's manner. 'She chatted and jested most amicably, and pointing with her finger at the face of one Captain Raleigh, told him there was a smut on it. She also offered to wipe it off with her handkerchief, but he anticipated her.' She was also fond of lounging on cushions on the floor of the gallery whilst conversing with her courtiers. At the same time, she could be impressively majestic. Thomas Platter recorded that when she emerged with her councillors and retinue from her Presence Chamber and looked out of a window in the adjoining gallery to behold her people in the courtyard below, 'They all knelt, and she spoke to them, "God bless my people." And they all cried in unison, "God save the Queen!" and they remained kneeling until she made them a sign with her hand to rise, which they did with the greatest possible reverence.'
In 1598, Hentzner was admitted with other members of the public to observe the elaborate preparations for the Queen's dinner: the tablecloth, salt cellar and food were borne in to the Presence Chamber, to the sound of trumpets and kettle drums, by servitors escorted by guards, preceded by an usher with a ceremonial rod. Each officer bowed solemnly three times to the empty throne under the canopy of estate, both on entering the room and on leaving it. Gentlemen stood in attendance about the table whilst the ladies in waiting set it, laying the cloth and placing the food on it. Then a maid of honour dressed in white silk entered with a lady in waiting, who carried a tasting fork; the latter gracefully prostrated herself three times in front of the table and empty chair, before respectfully approaching the table and rubbing the plates with bread and salt 'with as much awe as if the Queen had been present'. She then gave each guard 'the assay' - a taste of the food from each dish, to ensure that none of the food was poisoned, after which more maids of honour appeared and 'with particular solemnity, lifted the meat off the table and conveyed it into the Queen's inner and more private chamber, where, after she had chosen for herself, the rest goes to the ladies of the court'.
Elizabeth usually ate alone in her Privy Chamber, and had her own private kitchen where her food was prepared. Only on occasions of high ceremonial did she eat in public in the Presence Chamber, where the public were allowed in to watch from a gallery. At Christmas 1584, Wedel was privileged to watch the Queen eat, and noted that she was served by young men who brought meat and drink, offering them on their knees and remaining kneeling as she ate and drank. Behind her stood Lords Howard and Hertford and Sir Christopher Hatton. She chatted to them quite familiarly, although each one knelt when addressed and remained so until bidden to rise. Throughout the meal the royal musicians 'discoursed excellent music'. When it was finished, four servitors brought a silver bowl and towel, so that the Queen could wash her hands.
Although the Queen was never offered a choice of less than twenty dishes, she usually ate sparingly, preferring light meals of chicken or game, and as she grew older ordered thick soups or stews, since she could only chew meat with difficulty. Il Schifanoya claimed that, although the Queen was served with 'large and excellent joints, the delicacies and cleanliness customary in Italy were wanting'.
Elizabeth's main indulgences were rich cakes and sweetmeats, tarts and fritters, which ruined her teeth. She claimed to eat fish twice weekly, on Fridays and Wednesdays (which was designated an additional fish day during her reign in order to boost the fishing industry), but was often - at the enormous additional cost of/J646 per annum - secretly served meat on these days, although she did, unlike most of her courtiers, observe various fast days.
The Queen's white manchet bread was made from wheat grown at Heston, reputedly the finest available, and she drank lightly brewed beer, eschewing stronger ales. John Clapham wrote, 'She was in her diet very temperate. The wine she drank was mingled with three parts water. Precise hours of refection she observed not, as never eating but when her appetite required it.' She herself attributed her robust health to the fact that she was 'not tied to hours of eating or sleeping, but following appetite'. Nor did she 'delight in belly cheer to please the taste'.
Her courtiers ate in the Great Hall, with the chief officers of the household sitting apart at the great functionaries' table. The ladies of the Privy Chamber were so encumbered by their farthingales that there was not room for them all on the benches and they were obliged to eat 'on the ground on the rushes', the floors being strewn with herbs and grasses in order to scent the air and cover up dirt.
Each nobleman or knight was entitled to bring his servants to court with him, so that the main kitchens had to supply free food, or 'bouche', for hundreds of people on a daily basis, the menu varying according to rank. There was, invariably, much waste, and the Board of Green Cloth, which controlled household expenditure, was powerless to check it. Household management and organisation were inefficient: if the Queen wanted a snack at midnight, the order was passed along a chain of officials, and she often had cause to complain that the food, when it eventually arrived, was cold. At Windsor the facilities were so archaic that her meals were cooked in a public oven in Peascod Street and carried half a mile to the castle. Towards the end of her life, the Queen felt she could take no more of such poor management and announced 'with very bitter words that she would cleanse the court', but 'it pleased God to take Her Majesty to His mercy' before her planned reforms could be carried out.
Foreigners were always impressed with the singing of the choristers of the Chapel Royal - thirty-two men and twelve boys - which seemed more divine than human. One Danish ambassador said that divine service at Greenwich was 'so melodiously sung and said, as a man half dead might thereby have been quickened', whilst a French envoy claimed, 'In all my travels in France, Italy and Spain, I never heard the like: a concert of music so excellent and sweet as cannot be expressed.'
The Queen was so fond of polyphonic church music that she overrode demands by Puritans that it be banned from services, thereby preserving a tradition that survives to this day in the anthems and hymns sung in churches. She also protected several Catholic singers and musicians in her household, among them William Byrd, from persecution, and even permitted Byrd to compose in Latin. Predictably, this gave the Puritans more cause to grumble, although it got them nowhere. When it came to music, Elizabeth was prepared to make compromises. However, when she complained on one occasion that the celebrated organist, Christopher Tye, was playing out of tune, 'he sent word that her ears were out of tune'.
The Queen also instituted seasons of free concerts at the Royal Exchange in London, so that even the poor could share in her love of music. At court, she maintained her own orchestra of thirty musicians.
Security around the Queen was tight. She was theoretically guarded by twenty honorary Serjeants-at-Arms, but was in fact protected by the Yeomen of the Guard, founded by Henry VII, and by a body of mounted Gentlemen Pensioners, founded by Henry VIII. The latter, whose captains included Sir Christopher Hatton and Sir Walter Raleigh, were famous for being invariably tall and good looking. Despite all these guards, the Queen's advisers feared that her security was inadequate and might be breached in an attempt on her life, of which there were several during her reign. Cecil feared poison rather than violence, and drew up a memorandum advising on 'Certain Cautions for the Queen's Apparel and Diet', warning her against suspect g
ifts of perfume, gloves and food. The Queen herself had a relaxed attitude towards her own safety, and was fond of taking risks, placing confidence in the love of her people -much to the dismay of her fraught ministers.
Although the royal household was large, and cost several hundred pounds a week to run, Elizabeth kept far fewer personal servants than her forebears: as well as her ladies, she had a couple of gentlemen of the Privy Chamber, ten grooms, and an Esquire of the Body who was responsible for guarding the Presence Chamber after the 'Good Night' ceremony. The Queen also employed the Greens, a family of jesters, Ippolita the Tartarian, 'our dearly beloved woman' dwarf, Thomasina, an Italian dwarf, and Monarcho, an Italian fool, who is mentioned by Shakespeare in Love's Labour's Lost. Then there were footmen of the Privy Chamber, and a little black boy who went about dressed in a jacket of black taffeta and gold tinsel above wide breeches.
The court was of a diverse character. Elizabeth ensured that it observed strict rules of decorum and etiquette, which set standards in manners for the rest of the country, and promoted the ideals of chivalry and gentlemanly conduct, as exemplified in Balthasar Castiglione's enormously popular book The Courtier. Castiglione asserted that the ideal courtier was a generous, witty sportsman who pursued his own advancement.
The Virgin Queen expected her courtiers to maintain high moral standards, and would not tolerate promiscuity, knowing that it would reflect badly upon her own reputation. Nevertheless, commentators such as John Chamberlain and John Aubrey both expressed moral outrage at the apparent prevalence at court of 'whoredom, swearing, ribaldry, atheism, dancing, carding, carousing, drunkenness, gluttony, quarrelling and suchlike inconveniences', sentiments echoed by many of Elizabeth's Puritan subjects. In fact, according to the contemporary chronicler, Raphael Holinshed, bad behaviour was 'utterly expelled out of the court, or else so qualified by the diligent endeavour of the chief officers of Her Grace's household, that seldom are such things seen there, without due reprehension and such severe correction as belongeth to those trespasses'. Scandals at court were relatively rare, and when they did occur they were sensational.