Life of Elizabeth I (45 page)

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.

Elizabeth's courtiers found that the worst thing about the court was the frantic competition for places and preferment and the stresses this engendered. The nearer one was to the Queen, who was at the centre of a great web of patronage, the greater the rewards, which included court and government posts, knighthoods, peerages (very rare), monopolies on goods, annuities, pensions, wardships and loans. Several courtiers - notably Leicester - died in debt to the Queen, because although she would graciously extend the term of a loan, she rarely wrote off a debt. Nor was she extravagant in bestowing privileges and favours - she could not afford to be, so she kept everyone guessing and hoping.

There was much gossiping, backbiting and jostling for place, but violence was eschewed, Her Majesty having forbidden the use of swords, although they were allowed for decorative purposes, and the penalty for duelling was the severance of the right hand. Although the Queen sometimes preferred to turn a blind eye to breaches of these rules, the wise courtier learned that it was better to live on his wits. His part was to wait in galleries in feverish impatience, hoping for the chance to speak to the Queen as she passed, or for an
entree
to her private apartments, where the chances of being noticed were much greater. This, of course, could result in no more than 'empty words, grinning scoff, watching nights and fawning days', as Harington put it. If he were lucky, he might, by bribes of gifts or money, secure the patronage of a great lord who had the royal ear, which was perhaps the quickest road 
to preferment. It was small wonder therefore that Elizabethan courtiers were prepared to go to astonishing lengths to gain their sovereign's attention in the hope of achieving what Harington called 'ambition's puffball'. Some young courtiers, it was claimed, wore an estate on their backs, just to get themselves noticed; others wore 'outlandish habiliments' based on foreign styles. Many ran up crippling debts in order to finance their sojourn at court.

Few courtiers achieved their desire to speak to the Queen in person, but for those who did, the best time to ask favours was, according to Harington, 'before the breakfasting covers are placed'. One should 'stand uncovered as Her Highness cometh forth her chamber, then kneel and say, "God save Your Majesty, I crave your ear at what hour may suit for your servant to meet your blessed countenance."' This usually had the desired effect, as did gifts of jewellery, unless the Queen was in a bad mood. Emerging flustered and sweating from an audience one day, Hatton warned Harington, 'If you have any suit today, I pray you put it aside. The sun does not shine.' And being asked for something she was unwilling to give was often enough in itself to 'make the Queen fall out with any man'. When she got wind that a petition was in the offing, she would often dismiss the suitor with off-putting remarks, such as 'Faugh! Thy boots stink!' Nor did the granting of a request mean that she would immediately translate promises into deeds: there were often interminable delays, and on occasions her promises were conveniently forgotten.

A 'plain northern woman', having heard what the Queen was like in this respect, once asked for her promise in writing.

'Why, have I not given you my word you shall have your suit?' asked an astonished Elizabeth, 'willing to be rid of her'.

'Alas, Madam', replied the woman forthrightly, 'they say your word is nothing if one have not your hand in it.' Normally, Elizabeth would have taken offence at such impertinence, but this time she just laughed, and the woman got her written word.

Many deplored the superficiality of a court that one wit described as 'a glittering misery, full of malice and spite'. Sir Walter Raleigh famously wrote, 'Go tell the court it glows and shines like rotten wood.' Corruption was rife, and the Queen powerless to stop it. Nor did it put off men on the make. Lord Willoughby was almost the only nobleman who stayed away on the grounds that he was 'none of the reptilia, and could not brook the obsequiousness and assiduity of the court'. Most were agreed, however, that 'there was very little in that place to make an honest man much to love it, or a wise man long to tarry in it, but only one, and that was the mistress of the place'.

Anyone of or above the rank of gentleman might attend the court, 
although, as Cecil said, a man without friends there 'was like a hop without a pole'. Most courtiers were related to each other or bound by ties of marriage or loyalty, so there was a distinct family atmosphere. This did not, however, prevent frauds, nor the forming of factions around favourites. For most of her reign Elizabeth was adept at keeping the peace between such factions; only in old age did she find it difficult to control them.

A number of prominent courtiers were related to the Queen on her mother's side, but although she looked after these kinsfolk, she did not promote or ennoble them unless they deserved it. She would not make her great-uncle, William Howard of Effingham, an earl because he was not wealthy enough, and her cousin Lord Hunsdon was on his deathbed before she decided to create him Earl of Wiltshire. This tetchy old man refused the honour, saying, 'Madam, since you counted me not worthy of this honour whilst 1 was living, I count myself unworthy now that I am dying.' In fact, Hunsdon, a plain-spoken soldier, had enjoyed the Queen's favour throughout his long life. Other Boleyn relatives who prospered in varying degrees under their illustrious cousin were the Knollyses, the Sackvilles, the Howards, the Staffords, the Fortescues and the Ashleys. The Queen was particularly close to her cousin Katherine Carey, who was the sister of Lord Hunsdon and the wife of Sir Francis Knoliys. When Katherine died in 1569, Elizabeth was grief-stricken.

The Queen enjoyed a unique relationship with her courtiers, who vied to outdo each other in compliments to her: some even went so far as to rebuild their houses in the shape of the letter E in readiness for a royal visit. Most men who came to court conformed to her ideal: they were well-educated, cultivated, well-travelled, and spoke several different languages. They had the confidence born of wealth, and were ready to extend their patronage to artists and scholars. The Queen expected them to be well-dressed, laid down guide rules, and could react adversely if they were not obeyed. 'I do remember she spit on Sir Matthew's fringed cloth, and said the fool's wit was gone to rags,' wrote Harington. 'Heaven spare me from such jibing!'

Although the Queen's attempts to preserve the old social caste system resulted in much snobbery, courtiers were not discriminated against for their accents, which in many cases were rustic. Letters show that Hatton said 'axe' instead of'ask', that Leicester was prone to saying 'hit' rather than 'it', and was also guilty of dropping his aitches, and that Raleigh spoke 'broad Devonshire'. From her own writings, we can assume that the Queen herself spoke in a polished London accent and drawled her vowels.

The Queen was what would nowadays be described as 'a man's woman': although she did have women friends, she generally resented 
the presence of women at her court, preferring to be the sole focus of her male courtiers' attentions; consequently, there were rarely more than thirty women at court, most of whom were the Queen's own attendants. There was no rule against courtiers bringing their wives there, but the practice was discouraged, and there was no provision for wives to receive free board and lodging. Very rarely did the Queen relax this rule.

Relations between Elizabeth and her male courtiers reflected the age- old ideals of courtly love, in which the lover pays hopeless court to his unattainable mistress, whom he worships from afar. Many letters from courtiers to the Queen read like love letters: this from Sir Christopher Hatton is typical: 'My spirit and soul agreeth with my body and life, that to serve you is a heaven, but to lack you is more than hell's torment.' When, in 1581, Lord Shrewsbury applied for permission to visit court, he wrote, 'I neither regard health, travel, time of year, or any other thing in respect of the sight of Her Majesty, my greatest comfort, and until her good pleasure may be such, I shall long as one with child, and think every absent hour a year.' When the Queen was sixty-three, Lord Norris, retiring from court due to illness, stated, 'My heart hath been more grieved with my absence from the presence of Her Majesty than my limbs have been pained with the gout; for the true joy of my heart consisteth more in Her Majesty's eyes than in all worldly things else.' The Queen revelled in - and expected - this attention, fishing for men's souls, as Hatton put it.

This was not all sycophancy or self-seeking, since Elizabeth did fascinate men. She was also very good at retaining their interest, keeping them guessing and hoping as to what her true intentions were. She could also be frustratingly unpredictable: teasing, playful and informal one moment, imperious and tart the next - in short, a great prima donna. Yet she also had an excellent sense of humour. When the Earl of Oxford broke wind when bowing before her, he was so ashamed that he went into self-imposed exile for seven years; upon his return, Elizabeth warmly received him, then said, with a mischievous twinkle, 'My Lord, I had forgot the fart.'

The nicknames she bestowed on those closest to her were a sign of affection: Leicester was her 'Eyes', Hatton her 'Lids', Cecil her 'Spirit' and Walsingham her 'Moor'. However, she would not allow others to be over-familiar with her. When, in 1582, a young buck, 'being more bold than well-mannered, did stand upon the carpet of the cloth of estate and did almost lean upon the cushions' of the throne, which was occupied by the Queen, she said nothing to the offender but loudly reprimanded the Lord Chamberlain for permitting such behaviour.

Elizabeth was always attended by seven Ladies of the Bedchamber, six maids of honour and four chamberers in her private apartments, and whenever she appeared in public, her ladies and maids would accompany her. She was rarely alone, as her women attended her day and night. Duties were on a roster basis, and the most senior ladies would wait on the Queen in her bedchamber, whilst the younger attendants would be on duty in the Privy Chamber. One lady's sole task was to strew fresh flower petals in Elizabeth's path. Maids of honour performed errands, waited on the Queen at table, bore her train and looked after her clothes and jewellery. All these women were paid only for the time they were on duty, and they could not absent themselves from court without leave from the Queen. Unfortunately, Elizabeth was sometimes unsympathetic to their needs or family commitments, and might refuse to allow them time off. If she was fond of a friend's company, she expected to have it indefinitely. Poor Katherine Carey died at court, away from her husband, because Elizabeth could not bear to let her go.

The Queen's ladies and maids were selected from amongst her relatives or from the families of courtiers. Because serving the Queen was often a springboard to a brilliant marriage, there was intense competition for places, and large sums often changed hands to ensure a girl was accepted; one father paid 1300. When Lady Leighton was thought to be resigning from her post, twelve applications to replace her were immediately submitted.

Like most male courtiers, the Queen's ladies were well-educated and well-read. Most studied, read the Bible or translated works by Latin or Greek authors. One of their tasks was to read aloud to their mistress from some of the many erudite books in her library. Indeed, books were to be found in most rooms in the royal palaces. As one observer noted, 'The stranger that entereth into the court of England shall rather imagine himself to come into some public school of the universities than into a prince's palace.'

The Queen's ladies and maids were also expected to be accomplished in needlework, music, dancing and riding, so that they could share in their mistress's interests and entertain her as required. Some ladies distilled cordials, medicines or perfumes, or made sweetmeats and preserves.

Elizabeth demanded high standards, and was extremely critical of any lapse. Lateness and slovenliness earned sharp reproofs, and discipline was strict, the Queen having no compunction about slapping or beating any girl who offended her, even for small offences. Her rages were truly terrible and justly feared, and she frequently 'swore out [against] such ungracious, flouting wenches', making her maids 'often cry and bewail
in piteous sort'. On the other hand, she counted among her women some of her closest friends, and inspired in them selfless devotion.

When Bridget Manners joined the Queen's service in 1 595, her uncle advised her: