A little way up the river from Hampton Court, near Weybridge, was the miniature palace of Oatlands, 'a cheerful hunting box', where Henry VIII had married Katherine Howard in 1540. Elizabeth visited it on at least twenty occasions for the excellent hunting, and was fascinated by the huge colonies of rooks in the park. Nothing remains of Oatlands today, and a council housing estate occupies the site.

Richmond Palace had been the favourite residence of Elizabeth's grandfather, Henry VII, who had built it in the perpendicular style, but it was not until later in her reign that she came to appreciate its charm, spending time there each summer when the gardens and orchards were at their best. This was a fairytale palace, with numerous turrets and pinnacles crowned with bulbous domes surmounted by gold and silver weather vanes; it boasted fan-vaulted ceilings, vast oriel windows, a huge hall measuring a hundred by forty feet, which had murals of heroic English kings, and a network of galleries and loggias bisecting the beautiful gardens. These were a wonder in themselves, being filled with numerous flowers, herbs and over two hundred trees, whilst the orchards yielded peaches, apples, pears and damsons.

Eighteen kitchens kept the court supplied with food. Another attraction for the Queen was her grandfather's plumbing system, which piped pure spring water into the palace. She was also impressed by the absence of draughts, referring to Richmond as 'a warm nest for my old age'.

Another exquisite summer palace, 'which of all places she likes best', was Nonsuch in Surrey, a fantastic edifice built in the 1530S by Henry VIII in the Italian Renaissance style in emulation of the great French palaces of the Loire. Mary I had leased it to the Earl of Arundel, and although she was a frequent visitor, Elizabeth was not able to repossess it until his death in 1592. During her visits, she would be out riding or hunting every day in the park. When she received ambassadors at Nonsuch, it was in rooms adorned with furnishings and hangings brought over from nearby Hampton Court. There was no great hall, the palace being very small, and when the court was in residence a number of tents had to be set up in the grounds to accommodate all the guests. Nevertheless the state rooms were magnificent, there was a fine library, and in the inner courtyard there was an imposing white marble fountain and a clock tower. Nonsuch was famed for its novel octagonal towers, whilst its walls were of white stucco with a deep relief pattern picked out in gold on plaster, and there was a vast array of classical statuary in 246.

the picturesque grounds, where was to be found the famous Grove of Diana.

In London, St James's Palace, once favoured by Queen Mary, who had died there, was not so popular with Elizabeth, though she used it as her London base whenever Whitehall was being cleaned. Little remains of the Tudor Chapel Royal here, except for Elizabeth's coat of arms above the main door, supported by a carved lion and the red dragon of the Welsh Prince Cadwaladr, an emblem adopted by the Tudors. St James's had its own park and an artificial lake known as Rosamund's Pool.

Elizabeth hated the Tower of London. Her mother and various others close to her had died violently there, and she herself had terrifying memories of her imprisonment in 1554. She also detested the noises and smells which emanated from the royal menagerie within the Tower walls. It is hardly surprising therefore that she never used the state apartments there after the obligatory visit prior to her coronation. Nevertheless, her rooms in the royal palace were kept in readiness, and in 1598 Hentzner and another visitor, Thomas Platter, reported that the state apartments were hung with tapestries worked in silk, gold and silver thread, and furnished with grand beds and canopies of estate edged with seed pearls. One of the huge chairs made for the ageing Henry VIII, with its footstool, was on show, and several of Elizabeth's gowns were stored there, along with chests full of rich materials. The Queen's Parliament robes were kept at the Tower and aired every month. Her gowns were regularly sprinkled with scented powder to prevent them from becoming musty - twenty-four pounds of the stuff were used in 1584 alone.

When the court was in residence at Whitehall, the crown jewels were put on display at the Tower, but most of those from Elizabeth's time do not survive, having been melted down or dispersed under Oliver Cromwell.

The old medieval palace of Woodstock was another house avoided by Elizabeth, who had been kept under house arrest there for a year during Mary's reign. Only rarely did she spend a night there whilst on progress.

Queen Elizabeth's hunting lodge is preserved in Epping Forest; a picturesque legend claims that the Queen raced her palfrey up the stairs here, triumphant after learning of the defeat of the Spanish Armada. This hunting box had actually been built by Henry VIII as a stand from which to view the hunt. Elizabeth also used the decaying nursery palace of Eltham as a hunting lodge.

After her accession, Elizabeth spent little time at the palaces in which she had lived during her circumscribed youth. The oak tree at Hatfield House, beneath which she had learned of her accession, flourished until 247.

the nineteenth century, and its remains may be seen in the palace shop. The Queen sometimes stayed at Hatfield whilst on progress, but after her death most of the 'stately lodgings' of the Old Palace were demolished, leaving only the wing that survives today, much altered. Ashridge, Newhall and Hunsdon were leased, the latter two to the Earl of Sussex. The Queen visited Enfield Palace on her first progress, but returned infrequently thereafter. A fireplace from the palace is preserved in a house in Gentleman's Row, and carries the cipher E.R., with the Latin legend, 'Our only security is to serve God; aught else is vanity.' Elizabeth honoured nearby Elsynge more often, and it was kept in good repair; canvas shutters were attached to her windows, armorial stained glass installed in her bedroom, and fires were kept lit to prevent damp. In 1596 the Queen ordered 'toils set up, to shoot at buck after dinner' in the deer park. Nothing remains above ground of the two palaces at Enfield; the Jacobean Forty Hall occupies the site on which Elsynge once stood.

In fact, few of Elizabeth's palaces survive today. Whitehall burned down in 1698. Others did not survive the neglect of Oliver Cromwell's time, and those that did were too large or outdated for Georgian taste. Richmond was all but destroyed during the Commonwealth, and only the outer gatehouse now remains. Greenwich Palace, the royal apartments in the Tower and Nonsuch Palace were demolished in the late seventeenth century. The ruinous Woodstock was pulled down to make way for Blenheim Palace, whilst Somerset House has been completely rebuilt. One wing of Newhall survives, and the royal apartments at Windsor were extensively remodelled in the early nineteenth century. Very little remains today to testify to the lost splendours of the Tudor court.

The court itself was not only the seat of government but also the stage on which the Queen could make a magnificent display. It was also the cultural heart of England and a showcase for the arts, intended to impress foreign visitors. Elizabeth spent lavishly on her court, since she understood the political importance of visible wealth. Court taste in painting, music, costume and other decorative arts, which naturally reflected the tastes of the Queen, set trends that were followed in the great country houses.

Queen and court followed an almost unvarying annual routine. In the autumn, when the legal term began and Parliament might be sitting, the court would return to Whitehall, Elizabeth being received at the gates of London by the Mayor and aldermen in their best furred gowns, and processing through the streets, revelling in the acclaim of her subjects. The Accession Day tilts took place on 17 November, and the Queen 248.

usually kept Christmas at Whitehall or Hampton Court, with the twelve days of festivities reaching their climax on Twelfth Night, the Feast of the Epiphany, when gifts were exchanged and the Queen herself presented offerings of gold, frankincense and myrrh in the Chapel Royal. Elizabeth normally spent Christmas Day itself in prayer. Male courtiers were expected to remain at court for the revels, and few dared to sneak away to their families 'lest the Queen take offence'. Dancing and card games such as primero were the chief pastimes, and even the careful Elizabeth would indulge in a moderate wager. Fortunately, she was a lucky card player, although Ben Jonson, who never liked her, claimed - probably maliciously - that she cheated. There were also plays- as many as eleven were staged at court during the Christmas season, and more during Shrovetide.

Whilst she was in London, the Queen was frequently seen in public, going to dine at the houses of noblemen, attending weddings, watching bear baitings and enjoying military displays or river fetes. Her state barge was kept moored at Paris Garden, on the Surrey shore of the Thames. Hentzner described it as having 'two splendid cabins, beautifully ornamented with glass windows, painting and gilding'. The Queen's cabin was luxurious with cushions of cloth of gold and a crimson velvet rug strewn with flower petals. The barge could move swiftly, and required twenty oarsmen to man it.

Early in the New Year Elizabeth would move to Oatlands, Greenwich, Nonsuch or Richmond, but would return to Whitehall in the spring for the rituals of Maundy Thursday and Easter. In April, she would go to Windsor for the Garter ceremonies on St George's Day. During the summer, Queen and court would go on progress, then spend the early autumn at Oatlands, Hampton Court, Windsor or Nonsuch before returning to Whitehall.

Elizabeth's daily routine varied. She was, she claimed, 'not a morning woman', and would not be seen in public until she had completed her lengthy toilette, although she was fond of taking a brisk walk before breakfast in her private gardens. Rarely was she seen in deshabille, deshabille, although in 1578 Lord Shrewsbury's son encountered her hanging out of a window, listening unseen to people gossiping: 'My eye was full towards her; she showed to be greatly ashamed thereof, for that she was unready and in her nightstuff. So when she saw me after dinner, as she went to walk, she gave me a great fillip on the forehead and told the Lord Chamberlain how I had seen her that morning, and how much ashamed she was.' although in 1578 Lord Shrewsbury's son encountered her hanging out of a window, listening unseen to people gossiping: 'My eye was full towards her; she showed to be greatly ashamed thereof, for that she was unready and in her nightstuff. So when she saw me after dinner, as she went to walk, she gave me a great fillip on the forehead and told the Lord Chamberlain how I had seen her that morning, and how much ashamed she was.'

On another occasion, when she was fully dressed, the Queen leaned out of her window and espied in her garden a melancholy Sir Edward Dyer, who had unsuccessfully importuned her for a post at court. In 249.

Italian, Elizabeth asked him, 'What do you think about when you think of nothing?'

'Of a woman's promise,' he replied meaningfully.

'Anger makes dull men witty, but it keeps them poor,' retorted the Queen, then withdrew from the window before the impertinent Dyer had a chance to answer.

Because she normally kept late hours, working through the night, Elizabeth often slept late in the mornings. She was served breakfast -manchet bread, meat pottage, ale, beer or wine - in her bedchamber, then would work and play until dinner time, which was at eleven o'clock. 'Six or seven galliards of a morning, besides music and singing, were her ordinary exercise. First in the morning she spent some time at her devotions, then she betook herself to the dispatch of her civil affairs, reading letters, ordering answers, considering what should be brought before the Council, and consulting with her ministers. When she had thus wearied herself she would walk in a shady garden or pleasant gallery, without any other attendants than a few learned men, then she took coach and passed, in the sight of her people, to the neighbouring groves and fields, and sometimes would hunt and hawk; there was scarce a day but she employed some part of it in reading and study,' noted a courtier, Edmund Bohun, after observing the Queen at Richmond. Harington recalled that 'Her Highness was wont to soothe her ruffled temper with reading every morning. She did much admire Seneca's wholesome advisings, when the soul's quiet was flown away.'

In the afternoons the Queen might sleep a little; she was also prone to taking brief naps at other times. Supper was at five o'clock, then there would be entertainment until nine o'clock and the ceremony of Good Night in the Presence Chamber, after which light snacks were dispensed from the buttery. Then an usher would call, 'Have in for the night!' and an Esquire of the Body would clear the state rooms and the watch would begin its patrols of the palace precincts. Courtiers were expected to retire for the night at this point, although many did not.

Mention has already been made of the Queen's patronage of musicians and painters. She was also a great lover of pageants, masques and dramas, and many plays, including some written by William Shakespeare and Benjonson, were performed at her court, usually at an average cost of 400 each. Tradition has it that after a 1597 production of The History of Henry IV, with the Humorous Conceits of Sir John Falstaff, The History of Henry IV, with the Humorous Conceits of Sir John Falstaff, Elizabeth was so taken with the character of Falstaff that she asked Shakespeare to write a play in which Falstaff falls in love. The result was Elizabeth was so taken with the character of Falstaff that she asked Shakespeare to write a play in which Falstaff falls in love. The result was The Merry Wives of Windsor, The Merry Wives of Windsor, said to have been hurriedly written in a fortnight, but much enjoyed by the Queen. said to have been hurriedly written in a fortnight, but much enjoyed by the Queen. Twelfth Night Twelfth Night was also written for a performance at court in 1601. was also written for a performance at court in 1601.

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Elizabeth was passionate about the theatre, and actively protected it from the Puritans who wanted it banned. In 583, she formed her own theatre company, the Queen's Men, of whom her favourite performer was the comic actor, Richard Tarleton, whose antics could make her weep with laughter. At one performance she 'bade them take away the knave for making her laugh so excessively'.

The Queen also loved pageants, and sometimes took part in those staged in her Presence Chamber, although she always appeared as herself, and it was not difficult to persuade her to join in the dancing that invariably followed.

When Elizabeth entertained, she did so on a grand scale: her ceremonies and receptions were lavish and impressed visitors with their orderliness and solemnity: in t6oi, one Italian envoy claimed he would never in any other place 'see a court which, for order, surpasses this one', which was 'at once gay, decent and superb'.

Elizabeth's was a very visible monarchy. Every Sunday she went in procession from the Chapel Royal to the Presence Chamber, and people crowded to see her, falling to their knees as she walked 'grandly' past; she often paused to speak to some of them. Lord Herbert of Cherbury remembered the first time that he, an aspiring young courtier, was present on one of these occasions: 'As soon as she saw me, she stopped, '

and swearing her usual oath, "God's death!", demanded, "Who is this?" Everybody there present looked upon me, but no man knew me until Sir James Croft, a [Gentleman] Pensioner, finding the Queen stayed, returned and told who I was, and that I had married Sir William Herbert's daughter. The Queen hereupon looked attentively at me and, swearing again her ordinary oath, said, "It is a pity he was married so young!", and thereupon gave her hand to kiss twice, both times gently clapping me on the cheek.'

A German visitor, Leopold von Wedel, witnessed the Sunday procession in 1584 and described how the Queen 'showed herself very gracious and accepted with a humble mien letters of supplication from both rich and poor. At her passing the people fell on their knees, and she said, "Thank you with all my heart." Then eight trumpets gave the signal for dinner.'

Wedel also noted the easy familiarity of the Queen's manner. 'She chatted and jested most amicably, and pointing with her finger at the face of one Captain Raleigh, told him there was a smut on it. She also offered to wipe it off with her handkerchief, but he anticipated her.' She was also fond of lounging on cushions on the floor of the gallery whilst conversing with her courtiers. At the same time, she could be impressively majestic. Thomas Platter recorded that when she emerged with her councillors and retinue from her Presence Chamber and 251.

looked out of a window in the adjoining gallery to behold her people in the courtyard below, 'They all knelt, and she spoke to them, "God bless my people." And they all cried in unison, "God save the Queen!" and they remained kneeling until she made them a sign with her hand to rise, which they did with the greatest possible reverence.'

In 1598, Hentzner was admitted with other members of the public to observe the elaborate preparations for the Queen's dinner: the tablecloth, salt cellar and food were borne in to the Presence Chamber, to the sound of trumpets and kettle drums, by servitors escorted by guards, preceded by an usher with a ceremonial rod. Each officer bowed solemnly three times to the empty throne under the canopy of estate, both on entering the room and on leaving it. Gentlemen stood in attendance about the table whilst the ladies in waiting set it, laying the cloth and placing the food on it. Then a maid of honour dressed in white silk entered with a lady in waiting, who carried a tasting fork; the latter gracefully prostrated herself three times in front of the table and empty chair, before respectfully approaching the table and rubbing the plates with bread and salt 'with as much awe as if the Queen had been present'. She then gave each guard 'the assay' - a taste of the food from each dish, to ensure that none of the food was poisoned, after which more maids of honour appeared and 'with particular solemnity, lifted the meat off the table and conveyed it into the Queen's inner and more private chamber, where, after she had chosen for herself, the rest goes to the ladies of the court'.

Elizabeth usually ate alone in her Privy Chamber, and had her own private kitchen where her food was prepared. Only on occasions of high ceremonial did she eat in public in the Presence Chamber, where the public were allowed in to watch from a gallery. At Christmas 1584, Wedel was privileged to watch the Queen eat, and noted that she was served by young men who brought meat and drink, offering them on their knees and remaining kneeling as she ate and drank. Behind her stood Lords Howard and Hertford and Sir Christopher Hatton. She chatted to them quite familiarly, although each one knelt when addressed and remained so until bidden to rise. Throughout the meal the royal musicians 'discoursed excellent music'. When it was finished, four servitors brought a silver bowl and towel, so that the Queen could wash her hands.

Although the Queen was never offered a choice of less than twenty dishes, she usually ate sparingly, preferring light meals of chicken or game, and as she grew older ordered thick soups or stews, since she could only chew meat with difficulty. Il Schifanoya claimed that, although the Queen was served with 'large and excellent joints, the delicacies and cleanliness customary in Italy were wanting'.

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Elizabeth's main indulgences were rich cakes and sweetmeats, tarts and fritters, which ruined her teeth. She claimed to eat fish twice weekly, on Fridays and Wednesdays (which was designated an additional fish day during her reign in order to boost the fishing industry), but was often - at the enormous additional cost of/J646 per annum - secretly served meat on these days, although she did, unlike most of her courtiers, observe various fast days.

The Queen's white manchet bread was made from wheat grown at Heston, reputedly the finest available, and she drank lightly brewed beer, eschewing stronger ales. John Clapham wrote, 'She was in her diet very temperate. The wine she drank was mingled with three parts water. Precise hours of refection she observed not, as never eating but when her appetite required it.' She herself attributed her robust health to the fact that she was 'not tied to hours of eating or sleeping, but following appetite'. Nor did she 'delight in belly cheer to please the taste'.

Her courtiers ate in the Great Hall, with the chief officers of the household sitting apart at the great functionaries' table. The ladies of the Privy Chamber were so encumbered by their farthingales that there was not room for them all on the benches and they were obliged to eat 'on the ground on the rushes', the floors being strewn with herbs and grasses in order to scent the air and cover up dirt.

Each nobleman or knight was entitled to bring his servants to court with him, so that the main kitchens had to supply free food, or 'bouche', for hundreds of people on a daily basis, the menu varying according to rank. There was, invariably, much waste, and the Board of Green Cloth, which controlled household expenditure, was powerless to check it. Household management and organisation were inefficient: if the Queen wanted a snack at midnight, the order was passed along a chain of officials, and she often had cause to complain that the food, when it eventually arrived, was cold. At Windsor the facilities were so archaic that her meals were cooked in a public oven in Peascod Street and carried half a mile to the castle. Towards the end of her life, the Queen felt she could take no more of such poor management and announced 'with very bitter words that she would cleanse the court', but 'it pleased God to take Her Majesty to His mercy' before her planned reforms could be carried out.

Foreigners were always impressed with the singing of the choristers of the Chapel Royal - thirty-two men and twelve boys - which seemed more divine than human. One Danish ambassador said that divine service at Greenwich was 'so melodiously sung and said, as a man half dead might thereby have been quickened', whilst a French envoy claimed, 'In all my travels in France, Italy and Spain, I never heard the like: a concert of music so excellent and sweet as cannot be expressed.'

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The Queen was so fond of polyphonic church music that she overrode demands by Puritans that it be banned from services, thereby preserving a tradition that survives to this day in the anthems and hymns sung in churches. She also protected several Catholic singers and musicians in her household, among them William Byrd, from persecution, and even permitted Byrd to compose in Latin. Predictably, this gave the Puritans more cause to grumble, although it got them nowhere. When it came to music, Elizabeth was prepared to make compromises. However, when she complained on one occasion that the celebrated organist, Christopher Tye, was playing out of tune, 'he sent word that her ears were out of tune'.

The Queen also instituted seasons of free concerts at the Royal Exchange in London, so that even the poor could share in her love of music. At court, she maintained her own orchestra of thirty musicians.

Security around the Queen was tight. She was theoretically guarded by twenty honorary Serjeants-at-Arms, but was in fact protected by the Yeomen of the Guard, founded by Henry VII, and by a body of mounted Gentlemen Pensioners, founded by Henry VIII. The latter, whose captains included Sir Christopher Hatton and Sir Walter Raleigh, were famous for being invariably tall and good looking. Despite all these guards, the Queen's advisers feared that her security was inadequate and might be breached in an attempt on her life, of which there were several during her reign. Cecil feared poison rather than violence, and drew up a memorandum advising on 'Certain Cautions for the Queen's Apparel and Diet', warning her against suspect gifts of perfume, gloves and food. The Queen herself had a relaxed attitude towards her own safety, and was fond of taking risks, placing confidence in the love of her people -much to the dismay of her fraught ministers.

Although the royal household was large, and cost several hundred pounds a week to run, Elizabeth kept far fewer personal servants than her forebears: as well as her ladies, she had a couple of gentlemen of the Privy Chamber, ten grooms, and an Esquire of the Body who was responsible for guarding the Presence Chamber after the 'Good Night' ceremony. The Queen also employed the Greens, a family of jesters, Ippolita the Tartarian, 'our dearly beloved woman' dwarf, Thomasina, an Italian dwarf, and Monarcho, an Italian fool, who is mentioned by Shakespeare in Love's Labour's Lost. Love's Labour's Lost. Then there were footmen of the Privy Chamber, and a little black boy who went about dressed in a jacket of black taffeta and gold tinsel above wide breeches. Then there were footmen of the Privy Chamber, and a little black boy who went about dressed in a jacket of black taffeta and gold tinsel above wide breeches.

The court was of a diverse character. Elizabeth ensured that it observed strict rules of decorum and etiquette, which set standards in manners for 254.

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. The Courtier. Castiglione asserted that the ideal courtier was a generous, witty sportsman who pursued his own advancement. 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 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 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 255.

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, 256.

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 257.

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.

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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 259.

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: First, above all things not to forget to use daily prayers to Almighty God, then apply yourself wholly to the service of Her Majesty, with all meekness, love and obedience, wherein you must be diligent, secret and faithful. Generally be no meddler in the causes of others. Use much silence, for that becometh maids, especially of your calling. Your speech and endeavours must ever tend to the good of all and to the hurt of none. If you have grace to follow these rules, you shall find the benefit.

The Queen required all her female attendants to wear black and/or white, so that the vivid colours and embellishments of her own costume stood out dramatically. Woe betide the lady whose dress excelled the Queen's, as did one of Lady Mary Howard's gowns, which was so gorgeous that a jealous Elizabeth tried it on without its owner's permission, only to find it too short. She thereupon told Mary it was 'too fine' for her, and the hapless girl was obliged to lay away the dress until after the Queen's death.

Stabling was provided for the ladies' horses, whilst the maids, who were paid so little that they could not afford horses of their own, were allowed to borrow horses from the royal stables. Often, the Queen's women were the recipients of gifts from visiting dignitaries, and Elizabeth herself often passed on very costly and beautiful items of clothing to them.

Many of the Queen's ladies are known to history: her former nurse and governess, Blanche Parry - the longest serving of the Queen's women - and Katherine Ashley; Isabella Markham, who had attended Elizabeth during her imprisonment in the tower in 1554, and who would later marry John Harington and become the mother of the Queen's famous godson of the same name. Mary Radcliffe served Elizabeth for forty years and turned down all suitors to remain with her beloved mistress. Lady Mary Sidney, although ravaged by smallpox, remained very close to Elizabeth until her own death in 1586: she was the mother of the famous soldier and poet, Sir Philip Sidney, and was herself a very erudite woman. Philip's celebrated sister, another Mary, who was a poet herself and, according to Spenser, 'in her sex more wonderful and rare' than any riches, became a Lady of the Bedchamber on her marriage, aged fifteen, in 1576. It was not unusual for three generations of the same family to serve the Queen as maids of honour.

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Anne Russell was the wife of Ambrose Dudley, Earl of Warwick and before her lavish marriage at Whitehall in 1565 had been lauded by poets for her virgin grace, her genius and her charming voice. In later years, Elizabeth became close to the Swedish Helena Ulsdotter, third wife of William Parr, Marquess of Northampton, who was forty years her senior. Helena was much at court, and when she remarried after Parr's death, the Queen allowed her to retain her title of Marchioness and the precedence it conferred, and granted her the old royal manor of Sheen in Surrey.

Although at the beginning of her reign Elizabeth had enjoined her ladies 'never to speak to her on business affairs', aspiring courtiers attempted - often successfully - to bribe them to carry petitions to their mistress, and this was often the ladies' most lucrative source of money. 'We worshipped no saints, but we prayed to ladies in the Queen's time,' quipped one court wit. According to Raleigh, these ladies were 'like witches, capable of doing great harm, but no good'. Sir Robert Sidney once importuned Lady Scudamore to pass on a letter requesting the post of Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports.

'Do you know the contents of it?' asked the Queen.

'No, Madam,' replied Lady Scudamore.

'Here is much ado about the Cinque Ports', muttered Elizabeth as she read the letter 'with two or three poohs!' Soon afterwards, she gave the post to Sidney's rival, Lord Cobham, whose claim had been put forward by another lady, Mistress Russell.

Much has been written about Elizabeth's attitude towards the romantic and sexual adventures of her maids of honour. Although it is fair to say that she became less tolerant of young people as she aged, it is unlikely that mere sexual envy was at the root of her notorious disapproval. Not only was she in loco parentis in loco parentis to these unmarried girls - some as young as fourteen - and the guardian of their honour, but their parents also hoped that their daughters would make advantageous marriages through being in the Queen's service, and everyone knew that a deflowered virgin was worthless in the marriage market. Elizabeth was furious if her maids attempted to arrange their own marriages without her consent - which amounted to a grossly offensive breach of etiquette, since the responsibility for arranging suitable marriages for her maids rested with her. She was also conscious that 'scandal and infamy' and the loss of a maid's reputation would reflect badly upon her own morals. Thus she was excessively severe with those who broke the rules. to these unmarried girls - some as young as fourteen - and the guardian of their honour, but their parents also hoped that their daughters would make advantageous marriages through being in the Queen's service, and everyone knew that a deflowered virgin was worthless in the marriage market. Elizabeth was furious if her maids attempted to arrange their own marriages without her consent - which amounted to a grossly offensive breach of etiquette, since the responsibility for arranging suitable marriages for her maids rested with her. She was also conscious that 'scandal and infamy' and the loss of a maid's reputation would reflect badly upon her own morals. Thus she was excessively severe with those who broke the rules.

We have already learned of the sad fates of Lady Katherine and Lady Mary Grey. Later in the reign Sir Walter Raleigh would suffer the Queen's wrath after seducing and then marrying one of her maids. When one maid, Mary Shelton, a Boleyn cousin, secretly married James 261.

Scudamore, the Queen was 'liberal in blows and words' and Mary ended up with a broken finger; 'no one ever bought her husband more dearly'. Later Elizabeth apologised and appointed Mary a Gentlewoman of the Privy Chamber. Frances Vavasour incurred similar displeasure for the same offence, while her sister Anne, a 'drab' who secretly bore the Earl of Oxford's bastard in the Maidens' Chamber in 1581, was irrevocably disgraced, since her lover refused to marry her, although the Queen made him settle 2000 on the child, imprisoned him briefly in the Tower, then banished him from court.

In fact, the records show that Elizabeth was not against her maids marrying, provided they chose approved suitors. There is not a single example of her refusing an advantageous marriage for them, and eighteen of them were married to peers of the realm. Yet until such an opportunity presented itself, the Queen expected her maids to rejoice in their virginity, as she did. Harington records that she often asked her maids 'if they loved to think of marriage', and would 'much exhort all her women to remain in virgin state; the wise ones did conceal well their liking thereto, as knowing the Queen's judgement'.

Elizabeth also protected her women from marriages they did not want, as when, in 1583, Tsar Ivan the Terrible desired to marry Lady Mary Hastings in order to cement an Anglo-Russian alliance. Mary was terrified of being sent to Russia, with its barbaric customs, and the Queen refused to allow it, though for many years after that Mary was nicknamed 'the Tsarina of Muscovy'. On another occasion, the Queen, using 'many persuasions', tried to deter Lady Frances Floward from marrying the Earl of Hertford, because she believed that he did not really love and care for Frances. But faced with a girl besotted with love, the Queen 'in the end said she would not be against my desire', although she was ultimately proved right, for the marriage foundered, as did so many other aristocratic unions of the period.

The result of the Queen's strictures was that the maids of of honour were too terrified of their mistress to confide in her when they fell in love - which happened frequently in a court peopled with men - and were frequently compelled to conduct their often innocent liaisons in furtive secrecy. Towards the end of the reign, as the Queen's intolerance increased in parity with the loosening of her grip on affairs, there were more and more illicit affairs involving her maids. Hence the 1590s were a decade of court scandals. When Elizabeth Vernon was rumoured to be pregnant by the Earl of Southampton, it was said that she had taken a fencing thrust 'under the girdle and swells upon it, yet she complains not of foul play, but says the Earl will justify it'. She was right, for he did marry her, but only just in time for the baby to be born legitimate. Elizabeth was so angry that she consigned the Earl and his new wife to honour were too terrified of their mistress to confide in her when they fell in love - which happened frequently in a court peopled with men - and were frequently compelled to conduct their often innocent liaisons in furtive secrecy. Towards the end of the reign, as the Queen's intolerance increased in parity with the loosening of her grip on affairs, there were more and more illicit affairs involving her maids. Hence the 1590s were a decade of court scandals. When Elizabeth Vernon was rumoured to be pregnant by the Earl of Southampton, it was said that she had taken a fencing thrust 'under the girdle and swells upon it, yet she complains not of foul play, but says the Earl will justify it'. She was right, for he did marry her, but only just in time for the baby to be born legitimate. Elizabeth was so angry that she consigned the Earl and his new wife to 262.

the Fleet Prison for a fortnight. Mary Fitton, who had gone out dressed as a man to meet her lover, was also imprisoned for becoming an unmarried mother, and was exiled permanently from court. In 1591, Leicester's bastard son suffered a similar exile for merely kissing Mistress Cavendish.

Naturally, these young girls found it hard to repress their high spirits, and after a day of decorous behaviour, they would let off steam in the Maidens' or Coffer Chamber, their spartan dormitory - an unheated room below the rafters, under a leaking roof. Lesser servants slept behind a low partition at one end, so there was little privacy. The girls were meant to be under the supervision of the Mother of the Maids, but the holders of this post seem to have been fairly lax, and these night-time antics constantly aggravated older courtiers who slept nearby.

The Lord Knollys had his lodging at court where some of the maids of honour used to frisk and hey about in the next room, to his extreme disquiet at nights, though he had often warned them of it. At last, he gets one to bolt their own back door, when they were all in one night in their revels, strips off his [night] shirt, and so with a pair of spectacles on his nose and Aretino in his hand, comes marching in at a postern door of his own chamber, reading, very gravely, full upon the faces of them. Now let the reader judge what a sad spectacle and pitiful sight these poor creatures endured, for he faced them and often traversed the room in this posture above an hour.

Often there were jealousies and quarrels in this all-female household, and although the Queen expected arguments to be patched up for her sake, she was not above playing off one protagonist against the other. Yet she often did show a very human face to her ladies, and was especially kind when any of them had suffered bereavement or family problems.

During her reign, Elizabeth I undertook twenty-five progresses through her kingdom, usually during the months of July and August, when plague could be rife in London. For her, a progress was an enjoyable holiday, a rest from the usual routine of state duties, and a chance to meet her people and win their hearts. She visited twenty counties, most of them in the south and west, and many towns; plans for a northern progress never came to fruition, and the farthest north the Queen travelled was Stafford. At each county boundary she would be welcomed by the local sheriff and his officers, and they would remain with her during her stay, while at each town she would be greeted by the 247.

mayor and aldermen in robes and regalia, who would hand her the ceremonial keys. Wherever she went, church bells rang out in celebration of her arrival.

Travel in the sixteenth century was not easy: most roads were poorly maintained, and some were little more than trackways that became waterlogged with rain. Carts and carriages could get stuck, and if it was wet - rain never deterred the Queen - everyone would be spattered with mud. Even on a good day, the court could only travel a distance of ten or twelve miles. When Elizabeth visited Bristol, she faced a 'long and dangerous journey', for the roads in the West Country were notoriously bad, and when she arrived she gave thanks to God for her preservation. In 1573, Cecil reported that she 'had a hard beginning of her progress in Kent and Sussex, where surely were more dangerous rocks and valleys and much worse ground than was in the Peak'.