A Journey Through Tudor England (27 page)

Sir William Cecil (pronounced ‘Sissil’), Lord Burghley dominated Elizabethan politics for forty years, first as Secretary of State (1558—72), then as Lord Treasurer (1572—98). He was not only Elizabeth I’s most trusted councillor; he was also arguably the greatest builder of her reign. He built three fabulous houses: Cecil House in Westminster; the grand Theobalds in Hertfordshire that he spent nearly £10,000 (today equivalent to £1.7million) transforming and which Elizabeth visited eight times; and the house he referred to as his ‘principal house’, Burghley, which is the only one of his properties still standing.

Burghley (as William Cecil was known after he was made Baron Burghley in 1571) was born in 1520, and rose as a politician under
Edward VI. Shrewd and diplomatic, he survived favouring Lady Jane Grey in the succession crisis of 1553, and was the first of Edward’s council to kiss Queen Mary’s hand. Crucially, however, he was also at Elizabeth’s side at Hatfield on the day Mary died, and was soon sworn in as a member of her Privy Council and Secretary of State.

Before long, the confident, clever and controlled Burghley had become the pre-eminent statesman in Elizabeth’s England, a position he maintained until his death in 1598. As Secretary, he managed all of the Queen’s correspondence and chaired meetings of the Privy Council; he was at the centre of state business and commanded the machinery of power. In 1570, Elizabeth even gave him permission to stamp her signature on routine documents of state.

Burghley believed ardently in England’s ‘true religion’. He may even have been one of the patrons of John Foxe, the author of
Acts and Monuments
, popularly known as ‘Foxe’s Book of Martyrs’, a collection of tales of the deaths of Protestant English martyrs first produced in 1563. The central objective in all Burghley’s work under Elizabeth was, therefore, to fight for the survival of Protestant England against the attacks of Catholic Europe. Believing that the only way to secure England against Catholic invasion was through a clear succession, Burghley constantly urged the Queen to marry.

His other great preoccupation was the elimination of Mary, Queen of Scots whom he saw as a deadly threat to Elizabeth’s throne. Following the Babington Plot [see T
UTBURY
C
ASTLE
], it was Burghley who convinced Elizabeth to sign the death warrant that he had conveniently prepared earlier, although his subsequent decision to dispatch the warrant and have Mary executed without Elizabeth’s express command so infuriated the Queen that Burghley was banished from her presence for four months.

Burghley worked tirelessly until his death at seventy-seven years of age. His last surviving letter to his son, Robert, instructed him to ‘serve God by serving of the Queen, for all other service is indeed bondage to the Devil’. Burghley had dedicated his all to Queen and country, working exceptionally long hours and frequently suffering from ill health. He once said to his brother-in-law, Sir Nicholas Bacon, that he had ‘forborne wife [Lady Mildred Cecil], children, friends, house, yea all mine own to serve, which I know not that any other hath done in this time’. In return, he had been elevated to the peerage, created a Knight of the Garter in 1572 and made enormously wealthy.

In Tudor times, wealth needed to be displayed through magnificence. And what could be more magnificent than Burghley’s flamboyant ‘prodigy house’ near Stamford? Altering an existing house that had been built by his father, Richard Cecil, in the 1540s, Burghley had begun rebuilding Burghley House in 1555 and continued until 1587. He acted as his own architect, as at Theobalds, but employed master mason John Symonds to oversee the work, as the demands of court life meant his visits to Lincolnshire were rare. He spent a fortune to create a spectacular and imposing classical house that corresponded to, and evoked, his noble, privileged status.

The grand exterior remains substantially as Burghley intended it. The only changes are that in the 1760s, the north-west wing was demolished at the suggestion of Capability Brown to improve views of the parkland, and the south front roof line was raised.

Internally, much has been altered since Burghley’s day, and very little remains inside of the Elizabethan house. The interiors are stunning baroque, created in the late seventeenth century by John Cecil, the fifth Earl of Exeter. This means that Burghley’s original Elizabethan Long Gallery (124 feet) is now five separate rooms, and what would have been Burghley’s Great Chamber is now the Heaven and Hell Chambers, named after their incredible ceilings,
painted by Antonio Verrio (who also worked on the baroque palace at Hampton Court).

Still, some traces of the original Tudor interiors survive for those who are willing to search for them. The Old Kitchen with its elaborate rib-vaulted ceiling and lantern is unchanged, as is the Roman staircase — a wonderful example of Tudor classicism — which is ornately carved with the arms and badges of Tudor families. In the alcoves of the Pagoda Room, there are the remains of Elizabethan linenfold panelling, while you can see Tudor plasterwork high up near the last window on the right before entering the Great Hall. The Great Hall itself also has an original and magnificent hammer-beam ceiling and Tudor fireplace (everything else is nineteenth century). If you ask the room guides, they might also be able to show you pictures of the Elizabethan fresco recently found behind the panelling in the Third and Fourth George Rooms.

In particular, there is a stunning view of the inner courtyard from the windows of the antechapel. Here, Burghley, who loved heraldry, featured roundels of the Emperor Charles V and Suleiman the Magnificent of the Ottoman Empire, and others of Paris and Aeneas (whom Tudor genealogy thought to be the ancestors of both Elizabeth and Burghley). The obelisk clock tower dates from 1585 and still has one of its original hands.

The other great sixteenth-century treasures are in the immense portrait collection. There are two portraits of Burghley; one by Marcus Gheeraerts of Elizabeth at an advanced age; another of one of Elizabeth’s favourites, Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex; and an idealised portrait of Henry VIII from 1535 by Joos van Cleve.

Eighteen generations of Burghley’s descendants have lived at Burghley House since his death. With time, there will always be change, but this building remains a monument to its indefatigable and talented creator, Elizabeth I’s right-hand man: even if he is only one of the characters in the house’s long history.

‘To lack you is more than hell’s torment … Would God I were with you but for one hour.’

E
lizabeth I’s reign was an age of great brinkmanship in architecture, as nobles hoping to entice their monarch into a royal visit competed with each other to produce some of the finest houses ever seen. Kirby Hall was one of the best. It was built by Sir Humphrey Stafford in 1570, but was lavishly completed by Sir Christopher Hatton in the hopes of receiving a visit from the Queen.

Hatton belonged to a circle of men who were Elizabeth’s ‘favourites’, and rivalled Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester; Edward de Vere, Earl of Oxford; and Sir Walter Ralegh for her affections. He was also a man of many talents and over his lifetime held many positions of power, such as Captain of the Queen’s Guard, Gentleman of the Privy Chamber, Knight of the Garter, Privy Councillor and Lord High Chancellor of England.

Kirby was only one of his houses: his large house at Holdenby was built in 1570—83 (some of it survives), while London’s diamond and jewellery district, Hatton Garden, was named after him as Elizabeth granted him the Bishop of Ely’s residence here in 1581. Kirby, however, gives a much greater sense of the
exceptional grandeur and innovative beauty for which Hatton’s homes became famous.

Hatton, who was born in 1540, was probably first spotted by Elizabeth in 1562 acting in a play at Inner Temple, where he was Master of the Games. He was young, attractive and, by all accounts, a fabulous dancer. Sir John Perrot remarked cynically that Hatton had come to court ‘by the galliard’ (a popular Elizabethan dance in which the men leap and strut), and the antiquarian William Camden ascribed Hatton’s favour to the fact he was ‘young and of a comely tallness of body and amiable countenance’.

By 1565, Hatton was regularly appearing in court jousts, wearing Elizabeth’s Tudor rose engraved on his armour. He entered Parliament in 1571 and, through his proximity to the Queen, soon became her spokesman. He also represented her in Scotland at the baptism of the future James VI and then at the trial of the Duke of Norfolk in 1572. In 1574 he was given a title to match his status, succeeding Sir Francis Knollys as Captain of the Queen’s Guard. He was knighted in 1577 and soon after made Vice Chamberlain of the Royal Household and a member of the Privy Council. As Vice Chamberlain, it was Hatton who made the arrangements for Elizabeth’s yearly progresses. In a great many ways, Hatton had become indispensable to Elizabeth well before he was given his highest accolade of Lord Chancellor of England in April 1587.

There was, however, more between Hatton and Elizabeth than merely a professional relationship. Nearly all of Elizabeth I’s courtiers considered themselves possible suitors, but Hatton seems to have genuinely been in love. His letters to her are extraordinarily ardent, filled with melodramatic, almost ineloquent, passion. In June 1573, he wrote to her:

to lack you is more than hell’s torment … My heart is full of woe … Would God I were with you but for one hour …
Passion overcometh me. I can write no more. Love me; for I love you.… Ten thousand thousand farewells …

They had been separated for two days.

He was also a jealous lover, and was upset by the Queen’s attentions to other men. In 1572, he wrote to his friend Edward Dyer for advice on how to manage the Queen’s fickle attachments. Dyer sensibly instructed him to refrain from chastisement, and instead ‘joyfully to commend such things as should be in her, as though they were in her indeed’, and wait and see ‘whether the Queen will make an apple or a crab of you’.

Tudor courtship, Hatton’s bold letters notwithstanding, could also be highly cryptic and was governed by the complex laws of courtly love. Elizabeth affectionately dubbed Hatton ‘Lidds’, perhaps because of his sultry, hooded eyes, so he sometimes signed his letters with two dotted triangles. Her other name for him was ‘Sheep’, while Oxford was known by his crest of a boar and Ralegh by a corrupted version of his first name. These sobriquets explain both Hatton’s letter to Elizabeth urging her to reserve her favour ‘to the Sheep, he hath no tooth to bite; where[as] the Boar’s tusk may both rase and tear’, and Elizabeth’s message to him in 1582 to remember ‘she was a Shepherd, and then you might think how dear her sheep was unto her’. Once, she sent him a dove, a symbol of the receding floodwaters in Genesis, as an indication that ‘Water’ was no threat to him either. Theirs was a tender relationship, and Elizabeth was right to prefer him: unlike Oxford or Ralegh, Hatton never married and stayed loyal to Elizabeth until his death.

It was in the hope of playing host to Elizabeth that Hatton bought Kirby, and later built Holdenby. He chose well. Kirby embodied cutting-edge Renaissance architectural ideas of symmetry and balance, and classical features including a loggia and giant
pilasters (flattened columns) across the north façade of the inner courtyard. It is also ornately decorated and designed to impress.

Kirby is a grand affair, with an outer forecourt, graced by two flamboyant gateways added by Hatton, and a large inner courtyard that housed the Great Hall, the courtiers’ lodgings and the Long Gallery. As you enter the gatehouse and walk through the loggia, you’ll see ahead of you the south wing with the Great Hall to the right, and the buttery and service rooms to the left. Notice that the two sides are intended to look identical, even though the long window on the left is entirely superfluous. At the centre is the porch, which is elaborately carved, with nine small columns across the gable. Built by Stafford, it bears the date 1572, and his knot and motto,
‘Je seray loyal
’, ‘I will be loyal’: it could have been Hatton’s own. Inside, the plaster ceiling displays Hatton’s crest: the hind. Other doorframes around the court are carved with foliage and other emblems of the Staffords.

The Great Hall is one of the parts of Kirby to retain its ceiling, which helps conjure up its original state. Blue panels with unpainted oak beams recreate its original appearance. Stairs lead up from the hall to what was once the Long Gallery: a small section of the plaster decoration of the original ceiling of the gallery survives. Hatton’s real legacy at Kirby is, however, the state suite, with the Great Withdrawing Chamber and Best Bedchamber built in hope of that all-important visitor. It was here that James I stayed when he visited in 1619. Although the interiors were significantly altered in the eighteenth century, the original double bay windows remain one of Kirby’s most stunning features, and must be seen from the gardens to be appreciated. They were a magnificent statement of intent, but Hatton had little opportunity to enjoy them. In a letter of 1583 he planned his first visit to Kirby and added ‘leaving my other shrine, I mean Holdenby, still unseen, until that holy saint may sit in it to whom it is dedicated’.