Mistress of Hardwick Read online

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  Author's note

  This book is not a conventional biography. It grew out of the series of television programmes Mistress of Hardwick which set out to tell the story of that formidable woman of property, dynast and creative genius who became successively Mrs Robert Barlow, Lady Cavendish, Lady St Loe and Countess of Shrewsbury, but who is better known as Bess of Hardwick - a woman outstanding in an age of outstanding women and as renowned in her own sphere as her contemporary Queen Elizabeth.

  The television series was filmed at Hardwick Hall, the only survivor of a string of houses built and re-built by Bess and which remains very much as she left it - her masterpiece and her monument. But in order to make the fullest possible use of the marvellous backdrop provided by that unique and beautiful house it was necessary, in writing the television scripts, to make use of a flashback technique, for Bess, who was not concerned with the problems of television producers and writers, did not begin to build Hardwick until she was over seventy.

  In writing the book, of course, I was not circumscribed by the specialised demands and limitations of television -for example, in a series of this nature which was striving for as much authenticity as possible in background and detail, it would obviously have been self-defeating to spend too much time in locations which no longer exist. In fact, though, the book does largely follow the pattern of the scripts, but I have been able to dispense with the flashbacks and to quote some of the contemporary material at rather greater length.

  In the scripts and the book I have, wherever possible, left the characters themselves to tell their story in their own words. For the television programmes we reconstructed

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  certain dialogue scenes from the letters of the Earl of Shrewsbury, Mary Queen of Scots and her mother-in-law the Countess of Lennox, of Bess herself, her granddaughter Arbella Stuart and many others. We made use of diaries, account books, ambassadors' despatches, the reports of spies and the depositions of prisoners. None of the named characters was invented. There is contemporary evidence for every episode. Every significant line of dialogue, every quotation used, was either written or spoken at the time in question.

  Much has had to be left out. To do full justice to Bess of Hardwick would have needed twice the time and space at our disposal, but we have tried to cover the highlights of her long, eventful career. We have also tried to convey something of the flavour of the world she lived in: how it was possible for the daughter of a small squire with neither wealth nor influential relations to rise, as Bess did, by her own efforts and even to ally herself with the royal family -what was involved in building a great EHzabethan mansion hke Hardwick Hall - what it cost - what sort of men did the actual work and what they were paid - how such a house was furnished - how it was run - what it looked like. We have tried, in fact, to weave into the tapestry, behind the foreground of the politics and conflicts, triumphs and tragedies of the human drama in which Bess played a leading part, some idea of what life was like at Hardwick four hundred years ago.

  It would have been pretentious to include the full apparatus of notes and bibliography in a book which does not pretend to be more than a brief introduction to the subject, but the note on further reading may provide a guide to those who would like to pursue the story of Bess and her royal grand-daughter a little further.

  In writing both the scripts and the book I owe a debt of gratitude to Giles Oakley, who did the research, and to Victor Poole, who planned and produced the series and

  who guided me patiently round the pitfalls which lie in wait for the writer coming to television for the first time. I should also like to express my appreciation to all the other members of the BBC production team whose hard work and expertise have brought the Mistress of Hard wick to life.

  Alison Plowden

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  Honest Sweet Chatsworth

  Bess was born in 1520, plain Elizabeth Hardwick, in the Old Hall, the ruins of which can still be seen from the windows of the stately mansion she built to house her dream. Although the Hardwicks had been lords of the manor for generations, they were neither rich nor important. The family led the simple, hard-working Hfe of yeoman farmers, looking no further than their immediate neighbours for friendship and society.

  Sorrow and an acquaintance with the harsh realities of life came to Bess at an early age. She was only seven when her father died and her mother was left to struggle single-handed with the problems of managing the estate and bringing-up the five children. But Mistress Hardwick would have wasted no time on self-pity. In the sixteenth century the EngUsh people were a tough, vigorous, unsentimental race, although one foreign observer thought them greedy and cold-hearted. *The want of affection in the English is strongly manifested towards their children', wrote the author of The Italian Relation^ Tor after having kept them at home till they arrive at the age of seven or nine years at the utmost, they put them out, both males and females, to hard service in the houses of other people. Few are born who are exempted from this fate, for everyone, however rich he may be, sends away his children into the houses of others, whilst he, in return, receives those of strangers into his own. On enquiring their reason for this severity, they answered that they did it in order that their children might learn better manners. But, for my part, I believe they do it because they like to enjoy all their comforts themselves, and are better served by strangers than they would be by their own children ... If the English sent their children away from home to learn virtue

  and good manners and took them back again ^vhen their apprenticeship was over, they might be excused; but they never return, for the girls are settled by their patrons, and the boys make the best marriages they can.'

  Young Bess left home at the age of twelve, when Lady Zouch, a friend of the family, offered to take charge of one of the Hardwick girls. The practice of sending one's children away to be educated - always, if possible, in a household higher up the social scale than one's own - was well-established in middle- and upper-class circles, and was the fore-runner of the boarding school system which still causes foreigners some concern.

  No doubt tears were shed when the actual moment of departure arrived, but as Bess helped to pack her trunk and prepared for the enormous adventure of a journey from Derbyshire to London, she would certainly not have expected to receive sympathy. At twelve years old, she would have been quite capable of realising that here might well be the chance of a lifetime, and that it was up to her to make the most of it. In an age when life itself was notoriously uncertain, childhood - for those lucky enough to survive its first few years - was not prolonged a moment longer than necessary. When Bess set out to seek her fortune, she already stood on the threshold of womanhood -a small, indomitable figure, ready to grasp whatever opportunities her world had to offer, and quite undaunted by the slenderness of her equipment.

  Apart from a modest store of clothes and Turniture' -that is, bedding and hangings - Bess was provided with a dowry of forty marks left her by her father. She had been taught to read and write, by no means a universal accom-phshment, but she was not bookish by nature. In any case, the elaborate classical education just beginning to become fashionable for the daughters of the nobility was not for Bess and her sisters. By far the most important part of their training was in the practical arts of housewifery.

  Richard Mulcaster, a leading educationist of the day, had no doubts on this point. *I think it and know it', he wrote, 'to be a principal commendation in a woman to be able to govern and direct her household, to look to her house and family, to provide and keep necessaries, to know the force of her kitchen.' Mulcaster went on to say that every girl should be taught household management, an
d he was supported by the author of another manual on the education of young ladies. 'Our gentlewoman shall learn not only all manner of fine needlework, but whatsoever belongeth to the distaff, spindle and weaving, which must not be thought unfit for the honour and estate wherein she was born.' She should become familiar with *the duties and offices of domestical servants' and certainly never be so proud 'that she should disdain but to be present at all household works'.

  It is not likely that Bess was ever allowed to disdain to be present at any household chore, and by the time she left home she would have learnt to bake and brew, to spin and weave, been initiated into the mysteries of the herb-garden and still-room, been taught the elements of butter and cheese making and how to care for the poultry yard. All her training would, in fact, have been directed towards preparing her for the only career open to a respectable woman, that of being the mistress of her own household -a demanding, responsible and highly-skilled occupation in the days when all the necessities of daily life, from food and drink to clothes and medicines, had to be grown or made at home and every self-respecting manor or farmhouse prided itself on being self-sufficient.

  To a country-bred girl like Bess her first sight of London must have come as something of a shock. The Tudor city, still bounded by its Roman and mediaeval walls, was a congested, noisy, insanitary place. Open drains ran down the middle of narrow streets, lined with tall wooden houses, clamorous with apprentices crying their masters'

  wares, crowded with herds of cattle being driven to market, strings of pack-horses laden with produce, porters pushing barrows or carrying bundles on their heads, shoppers intent on a bargain, visitors, sightseers, foreign sailors and merchants.

  Bess never really took to town life, but she soon fulfilled the hopes of her well-wishers by finding herself a husband-young Robert Barlow, also from Derbyshire and also a member of Lady Zouch's household. Years later, when Nathaniel Johnston was writing the life of the Earl of Shrewsbury, he thought it worthwhile to include the story of the Countess's first marriage.

  *I have been informed by some ancient gentlemen that it was accompHshed by her being at London attending the Lady Zouch at such time as Mr Barlow lay sick there of a chronical distemper. In which time this young gentlewoman making him many visits, upon account of their neighbourhood in the country and out of kindness to him, being very soHcitous to afford him all help she was able to do in his sickness, ordering his diet and attendance, being young and very handsome, he fell deeply in love with her, of whose great affections to her she made such advantage, that for lack of issue by her, he settled a large inheritance in lands upon her and her heirs, which by his death she fully enjoyed.'

  In the circumstances it is not surprising that Robert Barlow should have fallen in love with Bess, but the sixteenth century took the same severely practical view of matrimony as of everything else. Nine out often marriages were arranged between families with an eye to financial or social advancement, although the 'free and full' consent of the young people concerned was regarded as a necessary condition. Forced marriages did sometimes take place, but they were generally frowned upon. Equally, of course, children who married without their parents' consent, were considered to have 'grievously offended'. Robert and Bess

  don't appear to have had any opposition to contend with. Mistress Hardwick would have been dehghted to see her daughter so creditably established, while the Barlows may have felt that despite the smallness of her dowry, a healthy, energetic, well-brought-up girl like Bess would be just the wife for their delicate son.

  When Bess embarked on married life she would have had a voluminous Hterature on the subject at her disposal. Every writer on the perennially fascinating topic of marriage was agreed that a wife's first duty was to obey her husband in everything 'not repugnant to honesty'. She must always be merry and cheerful in his presence, *but yet not v^th too much Hghtness'. If he rebuked her unfairly, she must bear it patiently. She should be seen rather than heard, for a silent woman was regarded as a treasure. She must be very careful of her good name and not always wanting to go gadding about. In theory, she should only leave her home to go to church or perhaps to assist one of her neighbours at a lying-in, and certainly she should never go out without her husband's permission. Needless to say, the purveyors of all this good advice were men, and in practice a sensible woman would soon learn to manage her husband to her own satisfaction. One cynical writer observed that Vomen are called night-crows, for that commonly in the night they will make request for such toys as cometh into their heads in the day. Women know their time to work their craft; for in the night they will work a man like wax, and draw him like as Adamant doth Iron.' This was the moment to ask for *a gown of the new fashion', for a new petticoat or for a hat of the latest fashion. The husband would yield, partly because he was overcome by 'her flattering speech' and partly 'because he would sleep quietly in his bed'.

  Robert Barlow's bride had little opportunity to employ such time-honoured tactics, for the sickly boy died in February, 1533, within a few months of their marriage.

  As a young, attractive widow with money of her own Bess would not have lacked for suitors, but evidently she enjoyed her independence too much to give it up lightly. There is no record of her life for the next fourteen years, but most probably she went back to Derbyshire to look after the property Robert had left her, which included timber, lead mines and agricultural land. These quiet years may have laid the foundations of her robust good health and astonishing longevity. She had married young, even by the standards of her time, but unHke so many of her contemporaries, she was not exhausted and prematurely aged by continuous child-bearing in her teens and early twenties.

  When Bess did marry again, she chose well. Her second husband was Sir William Cavendish, who had been one of the Royal Commissioners employed in the business of dissolving the monasteries and who, in company with most of his colleagues, had done very nicely out of it. He had been granted some church lands as a reward for his services and been able to buy others cheaply. In 1541 he was sent over to Ireland to make a survey of monastic property there and earned a glowing testimonial from the Lord Deputy. Five years later, William Cavendish was knighted and made Treasurer of the King's Chamber. When he courted Bess in 1547, he was a prosperous and highly respected figure. The fact that he was at least fifteen years her senior and already had eight children by previous marriages in no way detracted from his eligibility. Their wedding took place on August 20th at Bradgate, the home of Henry Grey, Marquis of Dorset, at the somewhat eccentric hour of two o'clock in the morning. Sir William was a friend of the Marquis, soon to become Duke of Suffolk, and his wife Frances, niece of Henry VIII and mother of Jane Grey. It is possible that Bess may have been occupying some position in the household and that she met William Cavendish there.

  The marriage turned out both happy and successful. Within a year Bess's first child was born, a daughter christened Frances. Another daughter, Temperance, born in 1549, failed to survive but three sturdy sons, Henry, Wilham and Charles, soon arrived to fill the gap. Then came EUzabeth, Mary and finally Lucrece, born in March, 1557. Lucrece also died in infancy, but to have reared six babies out of eight was an achievement to be proud of.

  By the time the last two children were born, the Cavendishes were spending most of their time in Derbyshire. As Protestants in the reign of the Catholic Mary Tudor, they would have found it wiser to keep away from Court - especially after the abortive coup d^etat of 1553 which had brought disaster to their friends the Duke and Duchess of Suffolk and the pathetic nine days Queen, Lady Jane Grey. Bess had plenty to keep her busy in the country. As well as raising her young family, she had begun to indulge her passion for building. In 1549, she and Sir William had acquired the house and estate of Chatsworth, about fifteen miles from Hardwick. The house was in a very bad state of repair, but to begin with Bess contented herself with renovations. She paid Master Bisseter, a carpenter *for himself and his man for working at Chatsworth by the space of sev
enty-two days at eight-pence the day for himself and fivepence the day for his man'. Small sums were also spent on mending doors and locks. All the same, Chatsworth evidently remained a pretty uncomfortable place, for in 1552 Bess was writing to her steward, Francis Whitfield: * Cause the floor in my bedchamber to be made even, either with plaster, clay or lime, and all the windows where the glass is broken to be mended and all the chambers to be made as close and warm as you can.' But by this time plans for a fine new house had been drawn up by the mason, Roger Worth. No trace now remains of Bess's Chatsworth, but following the fashion of the time, it was grouped round a central

  courtyard, the entrance being through an archway between turrets in the middle of one side - the hall, buttery and kitchen running along the opposite side.

  William Cavendish took a close interest in the progress of the work and in March, 1555, he addressed an appeal to his friend. Sir John Thynne, who was also building down in the West Country. *Sir, I understand that you have a cunning plasterer at Longleat, which hath in your hall and in other places of your house made divers pendants and other pretty things. If your business be at an end, or will be by next summer after this, I would pray you that I might have him in Derbyshire, for my hall is yet unmade. And therefore now might he devise with my own carpenter how he should frame the same that it might serve for his work.'

  In 1557 all these cheerful plans were tragically interrupted. That August Sir William was in London on business, when Bess heard that he'd been taken seriously ill. She set off at once from Chatsworth, making a succession of forced marches to reach him. Even so, the journey took four days and three nights. On the first day a guide was necessary, so bad was the state of the roads, and at St Albans an armed guard of four men had to be hired at a cost of ten shillings to protect the party from the dangers of travel by night.