Part 7 (1/2)

In the fourteenth century Kenilworth had been transformed by John of Gaunt from a feudal stronghold into a luxurious palace with a vast and magnificent great hall. Elizabeth and her baby would have lodged in splendor in this mighty fortress, protected by its ma.s.sive walls and the great lake, the Mere, which surrounded it on three sides. When news came that Lincoln's army had landed in Lancas.h.i.+re on June 4, the King marched to Coventry and prepared to defend his kingdom, having ordered Bishop Courtenay to remain with the Queen and Prince Arthur at Kenilworth during his absence. By then, alarm and confusion were spreading throughout England.

Few rallied to the pretender and his supporters. ”Their s...o...b..ll did not gather as it went,”36 especially after the King again proclaimed that he would pardon any rebel who surrendered. On June 16, in a hard-fought battle at Stoke, near Newark, Henry won a great victory, at a cost of at least four thousand lives. Lincoln was killed and Lambert Simnel taken prisoner. The King was lenient toward him, setting him to menial work in his kitchens; later, Simnel rose to be ”trainer of the King's hawks,”37 and died in 1525.

The Battle of Stoke, which Andre called ”the second triumph of Henry VII,” finally brought the Wars of the Roses to an end, and established the Tudor dynasty more firmly on the throne. But the legacy of those wars-the heirs of the overthrown House of York, whom the Tudors feared because they were too close in blood to the throne-and the memory of the ”treachery” of the ”perfidious Dark Earl,”38 as Henry called Lincoln, would haunt the King and his successors for another eight decades. Stoke taught Henry VII that the elimination of his Yorkist rivals could ensure the stability of his throne and the kingdom, but the implications for Elizabeth were, of course, horrible. Her position depended on her husband's security, yet it was her close kin whose lives were at stake in the years that followed, years that would see conspiracies, plots, and rebellions all aimed at toppling Henry VII and restoring the House of York to the throne. Small wonder that, throughout Elizabeth's lifetime, Henry was ”possessed with many secret fears touching his own people,” and ”had a settled disposition to depress all eminent persons of the House of York.”39 After the victory, Henry gave thanks in Lincoln Cathedral, then rode back to rejoin Elizabeth at Kenilworth in July. In August 1487 the King and Queen visited Oxburgh Hall in Norfolk, where they were entertained by its owner, Sir Edmund Bedingfield. The present King's and Queen's Rooms on the first floor at Oxburgh were those occupied by the royal couple at this time, and were named in honor of them.

Henry had a son to succeed him; he had triumphed over his enemies, and his throne seemed more secure than ever. It was time for a celebration.

11.

”Bright Elizabeth”

Elizabeth had still not been crowned, even though her t.i.tle to the throne bolstered Henry's own and she had borne him a son and heir. English queens had customarily been crowned soon after marriage or their husbands' accessions, and Elizabeth was the first uncrowned Queen to bear an heir since the Norman Conquest of 1066. The delay was unprecedented, and it had not made Henry popular. ”The root of all was the discountenancing of the House of York, which the general body of the realm still affected. This did alienate the hearts of the subjects from him daily more and more, especially when they saw that after his marriage, and after a son born, the King did nevertheless not so much as proceed to the coronation of the Queen, not vouchsafing her the honor of a matrimonial crown.”1 Even Simnel's rebels had complained about the delay.2 But in September 1487, twenty months after his marriage, Henry ”began to find where his shoe did wring him” and, ”being now too wise to disdain perils any longer, and willing to give some contentment in that kind (at least in ceremony), resolved at last to proceed to the coronation of his Queen.”3 ”It was an act against his stomach, and put upon him by necessity and reason of state,”4 yet he rose magnificently to the occasion, appointing his uncle, Jasper Tudor, Duke of Bedford, to act as Lord High Steward at the coronation, Lord Stanley as High Constable, and the Earl of Oxford as Lord Chamberlain. At Michaelmas 1487, Richard Guildford was put in charge of ”the jousts for the coronation of the lady Queen,” and paid 100 marks [15,500].5 In September summonses were sent out commanding the n.o.bility to attend the ceremony. Following Henry's consecration, his wedding to Elizabeth, and the christening of Prince Arthur, the Queen's coronation was to be an even more spectacular means of proclaiming the legitimacy of the Tudor dynasty to the world. It was also an expression of the high regard in which he now held Elizabeth.

It does seem that Henry was at last coming to appreciate the benefits of his marriage. At this time he sent an envoy to the Pope, ”signifying unto him that, like another Aeneas, he had pa.s.sed through the floods of his former troubles and travails and was arrived unto a safe haven,” by which he meant his marriage to Elizabeth. His amba.s.sador, ”making his oration to the Pope in the presence of the cardinals, did so magnify the King and Queen as was enough to glut the hearers.”6 Henry and Elizabeth left Warwick for London on October 27, celebrating the feast of All Hallows in St. Albans a few days later. They lodged at Barnet that night, then she returned ahead of him to the capital, in readiness for her great day.

But for now the glory was to be the King's alone. On November 3, richly clothed, the Queen ”went secretly” to the hospital of St. Mary Spital in Bishopsgate, where she sat in a window with the Lady Margaret and other great lords and ladies ”to behold the fair and goodly sight” of her husband, the victor of Stoke, making his jubilant entry into a capital city ”hugely replenished with people.” Henry, ”a comely and royal prince, appareled accordingly,” was given a rousing welcome by citizens ”that made great joy and exaltation to behold his most royal person after his late triumph and victory against his enemies.” They cheered as he was escorted by Sir William Horne, the Lord Mayor, to St. Paul's, where the Te Deum was sung in honor of his triumph.7 Elizabeth and Margaret did not attend the service; they traveled down ”to their beds” at Greenwich, where the King joined them two days later.

On November 7 the Court of Common Council of the City of London voted a gift of 1,000 marks for the Queen in honor of her coronation.8 Three days later a royal commission was issued to the stalwarts of Henry's regime: Jasper Tudor, Duke of Bedford; John de Vere, Earl of Oxford; Thomas Stanley, Earl of Derby; William de Berkeley, Earl of Nottingham; and three others. Stanley, as High Constable, was in overall charge of the arrangements for the ceremony.

Elizabeth's coronation far surpa.s.sed her husband's in splendor, and followed time-honored rituals: a sojourn at the Tower of London, a state entry into London, and the crowning itself in Westminster Abbey. It was timed to coincide with the feast day of the hugely popular virgin martyr, St. Katherine of Alexandria, patron saint of royal ladies, who exemplified all the virtues most admired in women and was also a queen by birth.9 On Friday, November 23, a ”royally appareled” Elizabeth left Greenwich with Margaret Beaufort, attended by a great train of lords and ladies, and boarded the magnificently decorated royal barge that was to convey her to the Tower. The Londoners, as ever, were ready to put on a good show, especially to welcome this popular Queen. The City's streets had been cleaned for the official welcome celebrations; there was a great water pageant, the first recorded at the coronation of a queen; it launched a new tradition of river spectacles, which would become customary in later centuries.

”The mayor, sheriffs, aldermen, and many out of every craft [guild] attended [the Queen] in a flotilla of boats freshly furnished with banners and streamers of silk richly beseen with the arms and badges of their crafts” and rowed by liveried oarsmen. Alongside Elizabeth's boat glided the barge of the bachelors of Lincoln's Inn, ”garnished and appareled, [sur]pa.s.sing all other” and containing a model of ”a great red dragon”-the red dragon of Cadwaladr-that ”spouted flames of fire into the Thames.” The symbolism was apt, as Elizabeth, like Henry VII, claimed descent from Cadwaladr. Manned by the handsomest legal graduates, the barge kept pace side by side with the Queen's, entertaining her with sweet music and attracting the excited admiration of the many spectators thronging the riverbanks.

In the barges that followed there were ”many other gentlemanly pageants, well and curiously devised to do Her Highness sport and pleasure withal,” and she was ”accompanied with the music of trumpets, clarions, and other minstrelsy.” When she landed at Tower Wharf, ”the King's Highness welcomed her in such manner and form as was to all the estates, being present, a very goodly sight, and right joyous and comfortable to behold.” Then he led her across the Cradle Tower drawbridge, and so to the old royal apartments in the Lanthorn Tower, where they kept ”open household and frank resort” for all the court. That night, Henry created fourteen new Knights of the Bath, as was customary at coronations, and Elizabeth joined him for a reception in their honor.

After dinner the next day, November 24, the Queen made her state entry into London. Dressed by her sisters, she was ”royally appareled, having about her a kirtle of white cloth of gold of damask, and a mantle of the same suit furred with ermine, fastened before her breast with a great lace curiously wrought of gold and silk and rich knots of gold at the end, ta.s.seled. Her fair yellow hair [was] hanging down plain behind her back, with a caul of pipes over it.” This was a coif cross-barred with a network of gold cords, a fas.h.i.+on popular in France and Italy. ”She had a circlet of gold, richly garnished with precious stones upon her head,” resting atop the coif. White symbolized virginity, or in Elizabeth's case chast.i.ty and purity, as did loose hair.10 Emerging in great state from the Tower, with Cecily of York carrying her train, Elizabeth climbed into an open litter richly hung with white cloth-of-gold damask and upholstered with matching cus.h.i.+ons of down. Eight white horses were harnessed to the litter, and above it was a canopy on gilt staves borne by four of the new Knights of the Bath. Preceded by Bedford and four baronesses riding gray palfreys, and followed by her master of horse, Sir Robert Cotton, leading her horse of estate, Elizabeth was borne into the City, where huge crowds had gathered to see her and watch her progress through the streets. In a chariot behind her rode Cecily with Katherine Wydeville, d.u.c.h.ess of Bedford, and following them came another chariot carrying Elizabeth's aunt, Elizabeth, d.u.c.h.ess of Suffolk, and another bearing Margaret Chedworth, Dowager d.u.c.h.ess of Norfolk (widow of John Howard), with six baronesses on palfreys trotting behind. Also in attendance were Lord Stanley and the other new Knights of the Bath. The Queen's squires trotted along on palfreys ”harnessed with cloth of gold” emblazoned with the white roses and suns of York, ”richly embroidered.” It was a magnificent procession, calculated to impress the crowds, enhance the reputation of the Tudor dynasty, and proclaim the universal approval of the Queen.

London was en fete. The streets were hung with tapestries, and velvet and cloth-of-gold hangings streamed from the windows in Cheapside. Along the processional route children dressed as angels, saints, and virgins sang ”sweet songs as Her Grace pa.s.sed by” on her way to the Palace of Westminster.

On November 25, St. Katherine's Day, Elizabeth went to her coronation sumptuously attired in a kirtle, gown, and mantle of purple velvet, furred with ermine bands, and the same circlet of gold garnished with pearls and precious stones that she had worn the day before. This circlet was probably a gift from Henry; from the late fourteenth century at least, it had been customary for the crown worn by a queen in her coronation procession to be given to her by the King.11 With Cecily again bearing her train, Elizabeth entered Westminster Hall with her attendants and took up her position beneath a purple silk canopy of estate supported by silver lances held by the barons of the Cinque Ports. Here, she waited for the procession to form. She was attended by her aunt, the d.u.c.h.ess of Suffolk, her fourteen-year-old cousin, Margaret of Clarence, now the wife of Sir Richard Pole, and Margaret Beaufort.

As Elizabeth pa.s.sed on her way to the abbey on a ”new bay-cloth” (baize) striped runner, the people surged forward behind her, each one eager to snip off a piece of the stuff on which she had trodden, such valued souvenirs were traditionally their perquisite. But the crowd was too boisterous: ”there was so much people inordinately pressing to cut the bay-cloth that certain persons in the press were slain, and the order of the ladies following the Queen was broken and distroubled.” This tragic incident cannot but have blighted the day for Elizabeth, who must have been painfully aware of the tragedy enacted in her wake.

In the calm of the abbey, Cecily was once more train bearer as Elizabeth walked along the nave, supported on either side by the bishops of Ely and Winchester; going before her were her uncle, John de la Pole, Duke of Suffolk, carrying a gilt scepter topped with the fleur-de-lis,12 as he had at her mother's coronation; William FitzAlan, Earl of Arundel, who bore the rod with the dove; and-in his robes of estate-Jasper Tudor, Duke of Bedford, who had the honor of bearing the consort's crown. Also in the procession was the Earl of Oxford, as Lord Great Chamberlain, wearing ”his Parliament robes.” After the Queen and Cecily ”followed the d.u.c.h.ess of Bedford and another d.u.c.h.ess and countess, appareled in mantles and surcoats of scarlet, furred and powdered, the d.u.c.h.esses having on their heads coronets of gold richly garnished with pearl and precious stones, and the countess on her head circlets of gold in like wise garnished, as doth appear in the book of pictures thereof made”-which, sadly, does not survive.

There was no tradition that prevented kings from attending the coronations of their consorts, but Henry VII allowed his wife to enjoy her hour of glory alone. He watched the whole ceremony with Margaret Beaufort and ”Lady Margaret Pole, daughter to the Duke of Clarence,”13 from behind a ”well-latticed” screen covered with cloth of Arras, which stood on a ”goodly stage” specially erected between the altar and the pulpit. Elizabeth Wydeville was not present to see her daughter's triumph (although, as her biographer Arlene Okerlund imagines, she perhaps saw the river pageant from Bermondsey), nor were Elizabeth's younger sisters; but her half brother Dorset was there, having been allowed out of the Tower for the occasion. The abbey was packed with the n.o.bility of England, as well as fifteen bishops and seventeen abbots, demonstrating how beloved a queen Elizabeth was, and how eager people were to see her crowned, as was her right, and to endorse the joining of York and Lancaster.

John Morton, the Archbishop of Canterbury, was waiting to receive the Queen, and prayed over her as she prostrated herself on the carpet before the high altar. She knelt to be anointed with holy oil on the forehead and breast, unlacing the gown fas.h.i.+oned for the ceremony. Then her coronation ring, symbolizing her faithfulness, was blessed, after which she received the scepter and rod, and was ”with great solemnity crowned.” The ritual followed had been laid out for the crowning of a Queen consort in Westminster Abbey's Liber Regalis, a late fourteenth-century illuminated ma.n.u.script containing the Latin orders of royal services, including coronations, which was in use from 1399 to 1559. The prayers dated back to the twelfth century, exhorting the Queen to virtuous conduct, so that, like the five wise virgins, she would be worthy of the Celestial Bridegroom-or rather, the King's bed.14 It is not known for certain which crown was blessed and placed on Elizabeth's head. ”A crown and two rods for a queen” are first recorded in an inventory of ”precious relics” taken in 1450, but they were probably older than that. ”Queen Edith's crown” is listed in a Commonwealth inventory of 1649.15 In 1045, Edith of Wess.e.x had married the Saxon king, Edward the Confessor, whose crown was used at the coronation of every monarch, but the crown that bore her name was probably not Saxon in origin. It was apparently the consort's crown added to the regalia in the late fourteenth century, and was recorded in 1649 as being ”of silver gilt enriched with garnets, foul pearl, sapphires, and other stones,” and valued at 16 [1,200]. It is tempting to conclude that Queen Edith's crown was regarded as being invested with a similar sanct.i.ty to her husband's, but there seems to have been no tradition of crowning queens with a hereditary crown.

In a panel painting known as the St. George altarpiece, which dates from ca. 150309 and is now in the Royal Collection (see Appendix I), Elizabeth is shown wearing a very ornate imperial crown-a ”closed” crown featuring gold arches. This type of crown-as opposed to a traditional open circlet with crosses and fleurs-de-lis-was first worn in England by Henry V (reigned 141322). Similar crowns appear in drawings of Richard III and Anne Neville in the Rous Roll, and in various images of Richard III and Edward IV. A drawing of the wedding of Henry V and Katherine of Valois, in the Beauchamp Pageant, dating from ca. 1485, shows them both wearing imperial crowns. The earliest image of an English queen wearing an imperial crown is a medal of Margaret of Anjou, dating from 1463. Henry VII also wears one in the St. George altarpiece, but it differs from Elizabeth's so it is unlikely that they were made at the same time; possibly Elizabeth was wearing the one made for Margaret of Anjou, which was probably also worn by Anne Neville and perhaps Elizabeth Wydeville. The King and Queen wear their imperial crowns in an illumination in the ”Ordinances of the Confraternity of the Immaculate Conception” of 1503 (see Appendix I), and these crowns are probably the same ones that appear in the St. George altarpiece. By the fifteenth century it had become customary for a queen to wear her crown on the anniversary of her coronation, so it is possible that the crown worn by Elizabeth in the painting is the one that had become a.s.sociated with her, which she wore for her crowning. As one of the crown jewels, it was normally entrusted to the care of the Master of the Jewel House in the Tower of London.

None of Elizabeth's crowns survive. The ancient crown jewels, as symbols of monarchy, were ”totally broken and defaced” in the seventeenth century under Oliver Cromwell because they symbolized ”the destestable rule of kings.” Detailed inventories were made of what was destroyed, but Elizabeth's imperial crown does not appear to be listed. Almost certainly it was used by at least one later Queen. A woodcut depicting the coronation of Henry VIII shows Katherine of Aragon being crowned with a very similar crown, probably the one used by her mother-in-law. Like Elizabeth, she wears hers on top of her long-lappeted gable hood in a stained-gla.s.s window in St. Margaret's Church, Westminster. This is not the crown that appears in Elizabeth I's coronation portrait (or in any of her numerous portraits), so by 1559 it had probably gone out of fas.h.i.+on; Elizabeth's granddaughter's crowns have wider arches. The likelihood is that her own crown had already been melted down and perhaps remodeled.

While Ma.s.s was said, Elizabeth remained seated on the ancient coronation chair, then the pax was brought to her. She kissed it and went to the altar, where she prostrated herself again to make her confession. After this, she was given communion, then enthroned once more. The ceremony culminated with the Queen escorted to St. Edward's shrine, where she laid her crown on the altar dedicated to him.

A ma.n.u.script drawing of the coronation of Joan of Navarre, wife of Henry IV, in 1403,16 but dating from ca. 148590, might more accurately portray the crowning of Elizabeth of York. It shows a queen seated on a throne on a raised platform beneath a canopy of estate bearing the royal arms, with two bishops placing the crown on her head, and lords and ladies standing at the foot of the steps. The Queen wears traditional ceremonial dress of a style dating back to the fourteenth century: a sideless surcoat with a kirtle beneath, and a mantle fastened across the upper chest with cords and ta.s.sels. Her hair, by custom, is loose.

It has been suggested17 that Thomas Ashwell's anthem may have been sung at Elizabeth's coronation, given the repeated emphasis on her name: G.o.d save King Henry, whereso'er he be, And for Queen Elizabeth now pray we, And for all her n.o.ble progeny.

G.o.d save the Church of Christ from any folly; And for Queen Elizabeth now pray we.18 The ceremony over, the procession then re-formed and Elizabeth returned to the Palace of Westminster. While she washed and refreshed herself in preparation for her coronation banquet in Westminster Hall, Bedford acted as the Queen's Champion. Riding a horse trapped with red roses and dragons, he led other mounted lords around the hall, ensuring that the hordes of spectators were kept well back. Then the Queen and her train entered and the banquet commenced. Again the King and his mother played no part, watching from another latticed closet hung with cloth of Arras, set up on ”a goodly stage” in a window embrasure to the left of the high table, ”that they might privily, at their pleasure, see that n.o.ble feast and service.”

Elizabeth, wearing her crown, sat alone at the high table at the top of a flight of steps. ”The Lady Katherine Grey and Mistress Ditton went under [in front of] the table and sat at the Queen's feet; and the countesses of Oxford and Rivers kneeled on either side, and certain times held a kerchief before Her Grace.” Archbishop Morton, seated nearest the Queen on her right, was guest of honor. When all were in place, the trumpeters and minstrels standing on a stage at the farther end of the hall ”began to blow,” and knights entered the hall in procession, carrying a vast array of dishes up to the high table, where the Queen would make her choices before they were offered to others. The first dish was a subtlety, an elaborate sugar sculpture, often with dynastic or political symbolism.

John Ratcliffe, Lord Fitzwalter, the Queen's ”sewer or dapifer, came before her in his surcoat with tabard sleeves, his hood about his neck and a towel over all, and sewed [essayed, or tasted] all the messes” (portions of food sufficient for four people). The royal cooks had excelled themselves: twenty-four dishes were offered to the Queen at the first course: ”s.h.i.+elds of brawn in armor,” frumenty (wheat porridge) with venison; a rich ”bruet,” or brewet (broth with meat); minced venison with spices and dried fruits, ”pheasant royal,” ”swan with chawdron” (spiced entrails), capons of high grease, ”lampreys in galantine” (eels in a seasoned bread sauce spiced with ginger), crane with cretonne (a thick meat soup with almonds and eggs), pike in Latimer sauce; ”heron with his sique,” or sake, another word for sauce; carp ”in foil” (leaves), kid, perch in jelly, ”coneys of high grease,” ”mutton royal richly garnished,” ”Valence baked” (raisins or almonds), ”custard royal,” ”tart poleyn”-probably baked in the shape of the piece of armor that protected the kneecap, ”leyse damask” (lees-residual yeast from ale or wine-in rosewater), ruby-red fruit ”sinopia,” ”fruit formage”-formage being old French for cheese; and another subtlety, which is not described.

The tables were then cleared for the second course, which was heralded by another fanfare of trumpets and the parading of a third subtlety, this time served with hippocras (spiced wine). A further twenty-seven dishes were offered: mawmenny (rich beef or chicken broth) garnished with lozenges of gold leaf; roast peac.o.c.k in hackle, i.e., re-dressed in its plumage; bitterns, pheasants, ”browes” (broth or gravy), ”egrets in beorwetye” (possibly a beer sauce), c.o.c.ks, partridge, sturgeon with fresh fennel, plovers, suckling rabbit, ”seal in fenyn [leeks] entirely served richly,” red shanks, snipe, quails, ”larks engrailed” (presumably in a pie with an indented crust), crayfish, ”venison in paste royal” (pastry), baked quinces, marchpane royal, cold baked meats, ”lethe of Cyprus” and ”lethe ruby” (milk puddings), fritters, ”castles of jelly in temple-wise made,” and a last subtlety.19 During the meal the King's minstrels ”played a song before the Queen.”

After the feast, Elizabeth distributed largesse three times, as was customary at coronations, and Garter King of Arms, ”with other kings of arms, heralds, and pursuivants, did their obeisance, and in the name of all the officers, gave the Queen thanks, saying, 'Right high, mighty, most n.o.ble and excellent Princess, most Christian Queen, and all our most dread sovereign and liege lady, we, the officers of arms and servants to all n.o.bles, beseech Almighty G.o.d to thank you for the great and abundant largesse which Your Grace has given us in honor of your most honorable and righteous coronation, and to send Your Grace to live in honor and virtue.' ” And he cried her largesse ”in five places of the hall.”

”Then played the Queen's minstrels, and after them the minstrels of other estates.” A bowl and towel were presented so the Queen could wash her hands, whereupon the trumpets sounded, ”fruit and wafers” were served to her, and the Lord Mayor, Sir William Horne, came forward and offered her the traditional golden goblet of hippocras-wine infused with costly spices-in return for which she gave him a covered gold cup in fee. ”And after the feast the Queen departed with G.o.d's blessing and the rejoicing of many a true Englishman's heart.”

Verses were composed in her honor, such as this one, ”Prophecy for the Crowned Queen,” probably written by Bernard Andre: Descend, Calliope, from your sacred ridge, descend, bearing the quill of clean-shaven Apollo, and come with your Pythian lyre, first of the Muses.

The Queen, progeny of highest Jove, whiter than the roses of spring, bears her crown as Diana leaps brightly from the midst of rose gardens.

Sprung from the n.o.blest G.o.ds of heaven, you were joined by divine majesty to so great a prince, who excels all the earth with becoming virtues.