Bess of Hardwick: Mary S. Lovell

There are two choices when it comes to history.  It can be all groats and archery and having the causes of World War I rammed down your throat until you wish you’d assassinated the Archduke Franz Ferdinand yourself.  Or it can be about people.  I know which I prefer.

Here she is, looking rather like a Queen herself

And blimey, is Bess ever a person that people can relate to.  She’s the original social climber; a woman in a man’s world; shreweder than a shrew, but warm-hearted, family-minded matriarch.  She built some of the most glorious houses in England, was the correspondent of one Queen and the jailor of another, and founded an aristocratic dynasty despite being born with almost nothing.

Bess of Hardwick is her nickname (do the upper classes have nicknames?), so let’s show some respect and use her full title for a moment.  Elizabeth Talbot, Countess of Shrewsbury was born into a reasonable decent family that was very hard on its luck.

At fourteen, she was shipped off to be a lady’s maid and at sixteen, she was married for the first time.  His lands were the first step on the property ladder and after that there was no stopping her.  Each husband was richer and more powerful than the last, enabling her to set off on what can only be described as the world’s greatest ever DIY kick.  Her last husband was the Earl Marshal of England which had good points (mega wealth) but also bad: having to babysit Mary, Queen of Scots for fifteen years so that she would stop hankering to be Queen of England really put a downer on their marriage.

If that sounds like a lot to cram in, believe me, there is an absolute ton more.  This is a woman who lived into her eighties when most people around her dropped like flies through plague and wars and childbirth.  A woman who wrote regularly to Queen Elizabeth and knew how to play the court game like no-one else.  And a woman who even dreamed her own grand-daughter might become Queen herself.

If I have  a criticism of this book, it’s that Mary S. Lovell occasionally assumes that the reader knows a bit more than they might do about Bess and the Tudor age.  I have a history degree, but I certainly wasn’t as familiar with the era as Mary  (My excuse is that, you know, there’s a lot of history.  It’s a poor one, I know.  So as a back up, I’ll blame the British education system.  Everyone blames it for everything.)  As a result, she has a slightly irritating habit of doom-laded foreshadowing; especially at the end of chapters.  There is also a teensy bit too much legal wrangling for my liking, but that’s not really Lovell’s fault: it’s the fault of Bess’s stupid relations who can’t stop bickering and suing each other.  (Jarndyce vs Jarndyce has got nothing on their courtroom dramas).  Also, the drawback of MEN BEING IN CHARGE of history is that mostly we know Bess through the way that other people describe her rather than through her own words.  Most of Bess’s own letters and documents relate to her obsession with her property and estates, so we only get a glimpse of this dynamite personality in her own voice.

Apart from that, this is a cracking read.  And if you aren’t well versed in the Elizabethan age, Bess’s life is a very good way in.  Mary S. Lovell has also written a very engaging biography of the Mitford sisters which I would highly recommend.

So I posted a couple of these pictures of Chatsworth before, but the ones from my real camera are much better.

Sadly, this is not Bess’s original house: her grandson knocked the original buildings down to do his own thing.  DIY was in the family genes.

I sort of look pregnant in this photo, but I’m not.  Just too many puddings.  Not sure why I’m doing ballet either.