Daughters of the Winter Queen

by Nancy Goldstone

  Although there is no record of the princess’s impressions of this journey, the concessions Anne made to her daughter would indicate that perhaps Elizabeth was feeling a little overwhelmed. It took a month to rendezvous with the king—a month that consisted every day of new places and new people, of feasts and long-drawn-out public ceremonies, of rush, rush, rush and ride, ride, ride. On June 15th, the procession alighted in York, where the new queen and her children were treated to a “Royal Entertainment” at which Elizabeth received “a purse of twenty angells [sic] of gold”; from there, they passed to Grimson and Newark before straggling into Nottingham on the 21st. At this point any ordinary six-year-old would have tried the patience of even the fondest parent, and this seems to have been the case, as Elizabeth and Lady Kildare broke off from the rest of the procession for a few days. But the respite was brief, as the family was due in Windsor by the first of July, where James had arranged to dub his eldest son a knight. The ceremony called for much pomp and splendor; even Elizabeth’s small suite was required to make a regal entrance. “The young princess came [into Windsor], accompanied with her governess, the Lady Kildare, in a litter with her, and attended with thirty horse,” admired a member of the court. “She had her trumpets and other formalities as well as the best.”

  The knighting ceremony was the first time since coming to England that the family (with the exception of Charles) was together at a state event, and as such served as a formal introduction to the kingdom. Elizabeth did not have a significant role in the proceedings but was permitted to stand in the great hall and peek at the brilliant, bejeweled company as they sat down to feast. The riches on display were quite outside the experience of its royal participants; to host a gala of this magnificence simply would not have been possible in Scotland, not even if every clansman had brought his own dinner. “There was such an infinite company of Lords and Ladies and so great a Court as I think I shall never see the like,” exclaimed one of the guests. Henry acquitted himself well and it was clear that the kingdom was relieved to have acquired so attractive a crown prince after decades of uncertainty over the succession. “I heard the Earls of Nottingham and Northampton highly commend him [Henry] for his quick witty answers, princely carriage and reverence performing obeisance at the altar: all which seemed very strange unto them and the rest of the beholders, considering his tender age,” avowed another of the company. James could congratulate himself that the long years of privation and fear, not to mention groveling to Elizabeth I, had been worth it.

  The contrast between the royal family’s new economic standing and their previous fortunes was so pronounced that it seems to have taken some getting used to. When plague struck London and it was judged best to send Elizabeth and Henry away to a castle in the countryside as an interim precaution, James initially provided his children with a staff of 70 domestics—22 upstairs, 48 downstairs—to meet their needs, far more than had waited on them in the past. But this was evidently considered inadequate by English standards, for within a week he was persuaded to increase the number of their servants to 104, and by October the children’s domestic staff had reached 141. The king seems to have had a similar difficulty reconciling his long-term training in austerity with the riches and dainties now available to him. “Whereas ourself and our dear Wife the Queen’s Majesty, have been every day served with 30 dishes of meat; now hereafter… our will is to be served but with 24 dishes every meal, unless when any of us sit abroad in State, then to be served with 30 dishes or as any more as we may command,” he decreed in one of the first ordinances he issued in England. Old habits die hard.

  But for Elizabeth, who was too young to have been trained in the ways of penury, the transition to luxury was much easier. She had always lived with guardians, and this was the case also in England. By October 1603 a suitable pair had been found: Lord and Lady Harrington, great favorites of James and Anne’s. (Unfortunately, Lady Kildare’s husband had been accused of plotting against the government, so she was let go.) Lady Harrington had a lovely twelfth-century manor house called Coombe Abbey, formerly a monastery, in Warwickshire, about 100 miles northwest of London. Possessed of its own bell tower and moat and nestled on some 500 private acres that included formal gardens, an orchard, and a substantial lake, all surrounded by pristine English woodlands perfect for hunting, this imposing estate became Elizabeth’s new home.

  Of course, the care and education of a princess of England in such a fine old abode required the procurement of a commensurately impressive household, and James did not stint on his daughter’s behalf. Elizabeth was allotted £1500 a year just for her meals. She was given twenty horses for her stable, so she would have something to ride, and a small army of groomsmen to care for them. She had her own doctor, three ladies-in-waiting, two footmen, a personal French maid, a seamstress, a dancing instructor, tutors in French and Italian, and a host of pastry chefs, cooks, and servers. Her music teacher, Dr. John Bull, whom she shared with Henry, was paid forty pounds a year to train his small pupil. He must have found his duties light, as there is evidence that he had the leisure to compose an early version of “God Save the King,” the English national anthem, in his spare time.

  It wasn’t simply the affluence of her immediate surroundings but the manner in which she was treated that most bespoke the difference between Elizabeth’s childhood in Scotland and her life in England. On April 3, 1604, the seven-year-old made her first official visit to the neighboring town of Coventry. Her reception there is illustrative of the vast improvement in her circumstances. “The Mayor and Aldermen with the rest of the Livery rode out of the town in their scarlet gowns,” the official report of this interesting event recounted. “The Mayor alighted from his horse, kissed her hand, and then rode before into the City… a chair of state was placed at the upper end of the room, in which her Highness dined; from whence, having finished her repast, she adjourned to the Mayoress’s parlor, which was fitted up in a most sumptuous manner for her reception.”

  It was an existence of the type portrayed in a fairy tale or novel—Sara Crewe from A Little Princess, only without Miss Minchin, as Elizabeth’s guardians were solicitous and responsible.* She had other children to play with, saw her brothers (Charles arrived in October 1604) and parents regularly at holidays, and received letters and gifts from them. She was a pretty, bright little girl who felt loved and valued and consequently reciprocated the affection bestowed on her. “With God’s assistance, we hope to do our Lady Elizabeth such service as is due to her princely endowments and natural abilities; both of which appear the sweet dawning of future comfort to her Royal Father,” her guardian Lord Harrington wrote to one of his cousins.

  The only shadow to fall on the royal family’s otherwise bright prospects occurred in November 1605, when Elizabeth was nine years old. A small group of radical Catholic gentlemen, upset by James’s rejection of a petition for “Liberty of Conscience”—the right to practice their religion openly—resolved to avenge themselves by a chilling act of terrorism. Led by Guy Fawkes, a Flemish former soldier specifically imported for the job, they decided to assassinate the king, his young sons, and other representatives of the government by blowing up Westminster Castle on the first day of Parliament. According to the official report of this plot by a member of the French royal council, the conspirators reasoned that “the King himself might by many ways be taken away [murdered], but this would be nothing as long as the Prince [Henry] and the Duke of York [Charles] were alive: again, if they were removed, yet this would advantage nothing so long as there remained a Parliament.” To effect this feat of political mass murder, the group planned to place barrels of gunpowder underneath Westminster and then set them on fire during the opening session, from which frightening premise the intrigue was ultimately dubbed the Gunpowder Treason.

  The radicals had first intended to position the explosives by tunneling under their target, but the thick walls of the palace proved difficult to penetrate. Instead, by happy chance (for them), in March 1
605, they found that a neighboring house had a cellar ideal for their purposes. “Such was the opportuness of the place (for it was almost directly under the Royal Throne) that so seasonable an accident did make them persuade themselves, that God did by a secret Conduct favor their attempt,” the French report continued. As the first session of Parliament had been put off until November 5, this gave Guy Fawkes and his men nearly eight months to accumulate the necessary firepower.

  During those eight months, it occurred to the group that it behooved them to have a plan in place to seize control of the kingdom after the ruling party had been annihilated. Recognizing that they would need some form of political legitimacy, they determined to make use of Elizabeth, who they concluded would be easy to capture and intimidate since she was young and female. “Therefore the Conspirators did again repeat their consultation, and some were appointed who, on the same day that the Enterprise was to be Executed, should seize upon the Lady Elizabeth… under pretence of a hunting match… Her they decreed publickly to proclaim Queen.”

  The plot was so horrifically audacious that it very nearly succeeded. The cabal was betrayed by an anonymous letter delivered to a member of Parliament, who turned it over to the Privy Council less than two weeks before the opening session.* But so cryptically was the warning worded that James’s ministers could hardly credit it. “For although no signs of troubles do appear, yet I admonish you that the meeting [of Parliament] shall receive a terrible blow, and shall not see who smiteth them,” the epistle darkly but inscrutably threatened. Uncertain what to do, the Privy Council waited until the king, who was away on a hunting trip, returned to London on November 1, a mere four days before the session was called, to show him this curious missive.

  But James, whose Scottish experience of intrigues dwarfed those of his councillors, and who moreover delighted in tricky literary conundrums, took the warning very seriously. He puzzled over it for an evening and then ordered “that the Palace with the places near adjoining, should be diligently searched.” His investigators very quickly found the cellar the conspirators had appropriated, along with thirty-six barrels of gunpowder (hidden under stacks of wood and coal), and Guy Fawkes himself, with matches in his pocket.

  The plot having been uncovered in time, a general warning went out and the rest of the band were soon discovered, rounded up, found guilty, and executed. News of his innocent ward’s proposed role in these proceedings gave Lord Harrington quite a shock. One “hath confessed their design to surprise the Princess in my house, if their wickedness had taken place in London,” he wrote to his cousin, obviously appalled. “Some of them say, she would have been proclaimed Queen.” As for Elizabeth, “this poor Lady hath not yet recovered the surprise, and is very ill and troubled,” her guardian continued. “What a Queen should I have been by this means?” the princess reportedly exclaimed in dismay. “I had rather have been with my Royal Father in the Parliament-house than wear his Crown on such condition.”

  James I, king of England

  By degrees the furor died down, and royal life returned to its previous peaceful, prosperous routine. But despite his having triumphantly foiled the plot, and the gratifying way in which the government subsequently rallied around him, it might well have occurred to James that perhaps being king of England wasn’t quite as inviolable as he had always supposed it would be.

  2

  (An Almost) Royal Wedding

  EXCEPT FOR EXCURSIONS TO COURT for holidays or special occasions, as when her mother’s brother Christian IV, king of Denmark, arrived in July 1606 for an official state visit, Elizabeth spent the next few years after the Gunpowder Treason at Coombe Abbey. Her guardian Lord Harrington was responsible for her education and was personally involved in her schooling. Although James demanded that his sons master Latin as part of their curriculum and monitored their progress through letters, Elizabeth was spared this ordeal on the grounds that, as a woman (and therefore inferior, in her father’s opinion), it was unnecessary. She did, however, study French and Italian in addition to music and dancing. The French ambassador noted approvingly when she was twelve that Elizabeth “speaks French very well, much better than her brother.”

  It is possible, though, that the princess’s education went further than the traditional finishing school’s preparation in pretty manners and the decorative arts. Lord Harrington, cultivated and erudite, with a gentleman’s passion for the natural sciences, took his duties seriously. Elizabeth likely was introduced on at least a cursory level to history, geography, and botany. This would have been entirely in keeping with the general intellectual climate of the period and especially the keen interest in these subjects at the beginning of the seventeenth century.*

  Whatever the extent of her studies, the time Elizabeth spent at Coombe Abbey was a happy period in her life. She loved animals, and her guardians indulged her passion for exotic pets. Lord Harrington’s accounts for his young charge cited expenses for monkey-beds and parrot cages. Religion was clearly emphasized in the household—at thirteen, Elizabeth penned some truly awful verses extolling God and spiritual rewards over worldly delights†—but her guardians’ piety in no way inhibited the princess’s high spirits or the pleasure she took in music, dancing, beautiful clothes, jewels, and other court entertainments. She was healthy and athletic and enjoyed riding and hunting, and like any girl her age, she gobbled up sweets whenever she had the chance. Lord and Lady Harrington, mindful that they were responsible for their ward’s deportment as well as her physical needs, made a point of stressing charity and liberality, so although showered with gifts, Elizabeth never displayed symptoms of selfishness. On the contrary, she was known throughout her life for her generosity.

  The result of all this tender, enlightened child rearing was that by adolescence, Elizabeth had developed into a lively, poised, and exceedingly charming young woman. When she was eleven, the French ambassador noted that “she is handsome, graceful, [and] well nourished… I assure you it will not be her fault if she is not dauphiness,” while a Scottish diplomat described her as “a princess of lovely beauty… her manners are most gentle, and she shows no common skill in those liberal exercises of mind and body which become a royal maiden.”

  As was customary, by the age of thirteen, Elizabeth was spending more and more of her time with the rest of her family at court. This was no hardship for her. She was allowed to stay up late for banquets and masques and to help hand out the prizes at the royal tournaments. But best of all, the princess had the opportunity to see more of her older brother, Henry, whom she adored and idolized.

  She was not alone in these sentiments. Henry was growing into a prince of great promise. He was glowingly described by his treasurer as “of a comely, tall, middle Stature, about five Feet and eight Inches high, of a strong, straight, well-made Body (as if Nature in him had showed all her Cunning) with somewhat broad Shoulders, and a small Waist, of an amiable, majestic Countenance, his Hair of an auburn Color, long faced, and broad Forehead, a piercing grave Eye, a most gracious Smile… courteous, loving, and affable.” He was strong-willed, healthy, and extremely athletic, and demonstrated an early interest in leadership and government. “He studies two hours a day, and employs the rest of his time in tossing the pike, or leaping, or shooting with the bow, or throwing the bar, or vaulting, or some other exercise of that kind, and he is never idle,” the French ambassador reported of Henry in 1606, when the prince was twelve. “He shows himself likewise very good natured to his dependents, and supports their interests against any persons whatever; and pushes what he undertakes for them or others, with such zeal as gives success to it.”

  Henry’s and Elizabeth’s handsome looks and robust good health stood in stark contrast to their younger brother Charles’s physical condition. Sickly from birth, Charles remained feeble throughout childhood, so much so that his parents had trouble recruiting a guardian willing to take on the nurturing of a boy who so plainly was going to die. Charles’s tutor described him at the age of four as �
�not able to go, nor scant stand alone, he was so weak in his joints, and especially his ankles, insomuch as many feared they were out of joint.” Charles’s ankles weren’t his only problem; in addition to being unable to walk, he hadn’t learned to talk yet either. His youngest son’s painfully slow development prompted James, ever the authority, to suggest a number of helpful remedies, which, fortunately for Charles, his guardians were able to resist. “The King was desirous that the string under his [Charles’s] tongue should be cut, for he was so long beginning to speak as he thought he would never have spoke. Then he would have him [Charles] put in iron boots, to strengthen his sinews and joints; but my wife protested so much against them both, as she got the victory,” his guardian reported. Charles would eventually learn to walk and talk and, as a teenager, even to ride, but he never matched his older siblings’ easy vitality, their radiant charisma, or their tremendous popularity. Henry and Elizabeth were a golden pair. Charles was the odd child out, in their shadow.

  Elizabeth’s older brother, Henry

  If English citizens were proud to have two such exemplary siblings as Henry and Elizabeth in line to inherit the throne, they were rather less enamored of the current occupant of that position. It took James’s subjects only a few years to become deeply discontented with their new sovereign. James bears the brunt of the responsibility for the general disillusionment. After so many years of hoping and waiting for the crown of England, once he got it, he felt he had done enough and behaved like a man on holiday or in the mellow years of his retirement. “As the King is by nature of a mild disposition and has never really been happy in Scotland, he wishes now to enjoy the Papacy, as we say [that is, to live the good life] and so desires to have no bother with other people’s affairs and little with his own,” the Venetian ambassador observed delicately.