"In Case of Poisoning . . . "

The Elizabethan era was one full of superstition. Although Lady Appleton tends to take a more rational, "modern" view of the usefulness of charms and potions, most people believed in them wholeheartedly.

So what do you do if you think you've been poisoned? If you're living in the 1500s, that is. Dried saffron was a universal antidote. So was the bezoar stone–taken inwardly, not worn as a jewel. A frog's gizzard was supposed to be effective against venom. And to draw poison out of a body? Try putting part of a stag's heart in a silk bag and hanging it around your neck. If that doesn't appeal, chew some caraway seeds. For "subtle poisons" or aconite, take a dose of horehound to counteract the damage. Horehound was also believed to be effective against the bite of a mad dog. There were many other popular antidotes, few of which would have been very effective. Fortunately for the Elizabethans, they hadn't really been poisoned by friends, enemies, or relatives as often as they thought they had.

"What's all the fuss about?"

Is it Susanna, Lady Appleton or Lady Susanna Appleton? A lot of people don't care. For those who do, here's a short explanation of the ins and outs of forms of address.

Susanna, born Susanna Leigh, is a gentlewoman, the daughter of a knight. The man she married, Robert Appleton, is also a knight. When he was knighted, he became Sir Robert and Susanna was thereafter addressed as Lady Appleton. She would never be called Lady Susanna. The only women entitled to use "Lady" before their given names are members of the nobility, for example the daughter of a duke.

Why is there so much confusion about this, even on jackets of books in the Face Down series? The cover errors are the result of copy in the catalog St. Martin's put out prior to the publication of Face Down in the Marrow-Bone Pie–copy I, the author, did not see until it was already in print. Sadly, this was also the copy used on the jackets of Advance Reading Copies, which were sent to out for quotes and reviews. Some of these quotes used the words "Lady Susanna Appleton." St. Martin's was reluctant to "misquote"and so insisted that this form of address remain, even though it was wrong. What's an author to do? Explaining all this in my newsletter seems to be the only recourse. So, for those who do care about such trivial details, that's how the confusion came about.

"Paranoia in Tudor England?"

Have you ever wondered if the real plots and treasons in Tudor England were as convoluted as those that appear in mystery fiction? Wonder no more. They were. Scholar Lacey Baldwin Smith, in Treason in Tudor England (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1986) details many such cases and suggests that chronic vitamin C deficiency may have been responsible for the paranoia, irritability, and lack of control exhibited by so many 16th-century Englishmen, as well as for the sheer stupidity of some of the treason plots they hatched.

My favorite involves a plan to seize Calais in 1540. It was devised by one Gregory "Sweet Lips" Botolf in February of that year. The seizure was to take place in "herring time" (Sept. 29-Nov.30) when Calais would be crowded with herring buyers and sellers. By the 8th of April, however, the conspirators were under arrest. "Stupidity and loose talk" had given away the game.

"Literacy in Tudor England"

Not too long ago, someone asked a very good question–who did Lady Appleton think was going to be able to read her "cautionary herbal" in an age when so many people, especially women, were illiterate? But were they? That depends, in part, on the definition of literacy.

As I point out in my non-fiction book, The Writer's Guide to Everyday Life in Renaissance England (Writer's Digest Books, 1996), many more people were taught to read than to write in the sixteenth century. The fact that someone made an X instead of signing his name, did not necessarily mean he could not read the document he had just signed. One scholarly study, D.M. Palliser's Tudor York (Oxford University Press, 1979) suggests that the overall literacy rate in that city may have been as high as 50% by 1603.

One group that tended to be well educated were "upper servants" such as the chaplain, secretary, steward, and waiting gentlewoman. Any of them might be called upon to handle accounts or write letters for their employers. Merchants, vintners and grocers were also generally literate by the 1580s.

In addition, an oral tradition still existed. People would sit around the hearth on a cold winter's night, listening to stories or being read to.If only one person in the household could read, books would be shared with others.

"The Law on Murder, 1565"

The sixteenth century was not a good time to be accused of murder. Few of the rules of evidence we use today were observed in the Age of Elizabeth. Autopsies, for example, although they had long been performed in Italy, were not done in England. The English considered them barbaric. Verdicts were based on "common knowledge" rather than detection. The average criminal trial lasted less than ten minutes.

Anyone who found the body of a person who had died unnaturally, suddenly, or in suspicious circumstances, was supposed to raise a "hue and cry" to inform the four nearest neighbors who in turn told the bailiff. He sent for the coroner and summoned all the free men in the community over the age of twelve so that the coroner could select a jury.

After 1510, justices of the peace took over many of the duties formerly handled by coroners, although indictments made upon viewing a body continued to be the coroner's monopoly. Arraignment for any felony took place before two justices who bound the accused felon over for trial.

Murder trials usually took place at the twice yearly assizes. Bail was usually denied to accused murderers. Legal representation was denied to all felons (one used a lawyer for civil cases). Defense witnesses might be heard but they were not sworn in on the theory that the prosecution's case ought to be unanswerable.

Women got a particularly bad deal under the law. They had equality in being held responsible for their crimes, but they could not serve as jurors or judges. Further, the one "out" a man might have in some felony cases (though not, as it happens, murder) only pertained to a woman if she had once been a nun. Where a literate man might win himself a lesser sentence simply by proving he could read, a literate woman had no advantage under the law. Indeed, she was probably more suspect because of that skill.

Benefit of clergy, even though it was not allowed in murder cases, provided an interesting legal loophole. Keith Wrightson in English Society 1580-1680 cites statistics from the Essex Assizes for 1579-1603. More than eighty percent of first-time offenders convicted of stealing sheep or cows claimed clerical status and were branded rather than hanged. This claim required no more proof than an ability to read the "neck verse" (Psalm 51, verse 1).

But what of the female felon? If she was pregnant, she could delay execution until the child was born. The only hope she had of escaping death altogether, however, was a pardon. About a hundred royal pardons were issued each year.

The theft of goods worth more than one shilling commanded the death penalty. So did witchcraft, but burning was for heretics, not witches. In Protestant England, witches were hanged as felons. A woman could be burnt at the stake, however, for "petty treason," the crime of murdering the head of the household. A woman who killed her husband or father or a servant who killed her master were tried on this charge rather than simple murder.

One study of the county of Essex, covering the years 1559-1603, records these crime statistics for the reign of Elizabeth: 129 homicides, 28 infanticides, 100 highway robberies, 320 burglaries, 1460 cases of simple or compound larceny, 172 cases of witchcraft, 28 rapes, and 8 cases of buggery.

"Where Do You Get Those Names?"

Some readers have asked me how I come up with character's names, especially in an age when so many real people seem to have used only the same few–Edward, Henry, John, and Robert for men; Anne, Catherine, Elizabeth, Jane, Mary, and Margaret for women.

The answer is easy–genealogy. Look at the family trees of prominent Elizabethans and you will find many unusual given names with great variety in spelling. Some which are rare today were fairly common then –there are quite a few Laetitias and Lettices. Catholics often named their daughters after local saints, producing many Ursulas and Werbergas. Puritans preferred Old Testament names–like Susanna–and the names of virtues: Temperance, Honor, and so forth.

Some names appear less frequently. The Careys, cousins to Queen Elizabeth, boast a Philadelphia. There is a Nazaret in the Newton family and a Dowsabella among the Tempests. One of my personal favorites is Euphemia Elphinstone.

The name Frances was popularized as a female name when Mary Tudor, sister of Henry VIII, gave birth to her first daughter by Charles Brandon, duke of Suffolk, in 1517. The couple felt gratitude toward King Francis of France and named the child after him. Another male name used for females in the sixteenth century was Douglas.

"Travel in England in the Sixteenth Century"

In 1553 a travel guide described France as being twenty-two days wide and nineteen days long. Another travel guide of the same period put the distance at sixteen days long. William Harrison's The Description of England, written in the 1580s, does not count days per se but he does list the distances between places and the implication is that the traveler might stop at each for a meal or for the night. "The way from Berwick to York, and so to London" is accomplished in twenty-two stops. London to Dover has another six stops.

On foot, one might travel three or four miles an hour during the day. Few people wanted to be out at night, so travel was confined to daylight hours. There were rivers to ford, however, and mountains to cross, so this was not a pace one could keep up indefinitely. Those who could, rode, either on horses or mules. The one hundred twenty mile journey from London to Stratford upon Avon took three days on horseback.

English gentlemen thought it unmanly to ride in any vehicle or on a mare. They used small, hard saddles and rated their horses by color, bay being the best. Women rode astride (using a man's saddle) or apillion. A pillion was a leather or padded cushion on a wooden frame which was strapped to the horse's back behind the saddle. A footboard hung from the offside and the woman clung to the man in front of her. By the sixteenth century, the sidesaddle was also an option. It was popularized by Catherine d' Medici, who brought one to France from Italy when she married the king of France in 1533. As readers of the Face Down series know, Jennet rides apillion and hates doing so. Susanna uses a sidesaddle.

There were some vehicles available. Wagons and carts had been around for a long time. Ladies might also be carried in litters. The coach, however, was a new development in sixteenth century England. The two used in the chase scene at the end of Face Down Among the Winchester Geese, were almost the only ones in England at the time. A far cry from later developments, these coaches were an outgrowth of the carriages used to transport artillery. The first coaches had no springs or window glass and little padding. They differed from the four-wheeled carriages and covered wagons used earlier in that they were closed and had seats inside for passengers. One seat outside held the driver.

The first coach was brought to England from the Netherlands in 1555. The first coach in Scotland came from France with Mary, queen of Scots in 1561. Because of poor roads, the conveyance did not catch on outside London for some time.

"Travel Times"

To cross the English Channel (also called the Narrow Seas) to France could take days, even weeks, or in perfect weather conditions, only an afternoon.

One map giving travel times from Venice indicates that it took ten days to reach Augsburg, sixteen days to get to Brussels, and twenty-seven days to go all the way to London. Overland routes made use of rivers and canals.

Lady Appleton usually spends one night on the road when she travels from Leigh Abbey in Kent to London, stopping in Rochester.

"What Were Women Wearing in 1567?"

I recently had a publicity photo taken for a talk at a local library. The photo editor of the newspaper suggested I wear Elizabethan dress for the shoot. Fortunately, there is an excellent Shakespeare company near my home, based at the Theater at Monmouth in Monmouth, ME, and they let me invade their costume storage area to search out the garments I needed.

First there was the headgear. In those days, everyone wore hats, indoors and out, with only a few exceptions. The French hood was the most popular among women during the entire period, a small, stiff bonnet worn far back on the head. A cloth panel attached to the back fell to below the shoulders. Usually a linen cap was worn underneath, but did not show. The hair, parted in the middle, was pulled straight back, although sometimes it is shown pouffed up and filling in the angles at the sides of the French hood. Sadly, my hair does not pouf

Item two was a ruff, which is a separate item of dress. There was a box of these to choose from and I selected the smallest. It was only later in the century that huge cartwheel ruffs came into fashion. From 1562-1577, the average ruff was only about three inches wide and two inches deep. The alternative would have been a "falling-band," a turned-down collar.

There were no dresses as we know them. All the parts were separate. Fortunately, the costume shop at the Theater at Monmouth blends authenticity with practicality. Instead of having to tie together a bodice, kirtle, and sleeves, I found these all in one piece. The low, square-cut front, however, required fill. This came in the form of a "partlet,"which in my case was a blouse-like garment worn under the bodice and attached to the bottom of the ruff.

I have a new appreciation of Jennet's role in Susanna Appleton's life after getting into this outfit. For one thing, I literally could not dress myself. The bodice laced up the back like a corset. My niece was willing to play tiring woman (the servant who helps the mistress into her attire) on the day of the photo shoot. Thank goodness!

Of course, that day was hot and humid. I don't know how Elizabethan women stood wearing such heavy fabrics and so many layers. Even assuming that they were practical enough to leave off a few layers when at home in the country (certainly no Elizabethan housewife tried to accomplish much while wearing a wheel fartingale!) they still had to contend with long, heavy skirts and full-length sleeves and, at the least, a cap of some sort.

For formal occasions, such as having a portrait painted or attending on the queen at court, women added another layer, the gown, which was an overdress worn open in the front.

The photograph below is one of the ones taken of me in the costume described in this article. It shows a stage costume, but it is similar in appearance to what women might have worn in the mid-sixteenth century.

The sketch below was done by artist Linda Weatherly S. to illustrate "Lady Appleton and the Cautionary Herbal" in the March, 2001 Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine.

This second sketch was done by James B. Bishop as one of the illustrations for my reference book The Writer's Guide to Everyday Life in Renaissance England.

Here are a few more notes on women's clothing. The term kirtle can be confusing. Before 1545, it was used to refer to the combination of bodice or jacket and skirt. After 1545, it generally meant only the skirt. By 1625, the term was obsolete. Early kirtles had openings at the front to show an underskirt called the forepart. Sleeves, as I mentioned, were separate garments, fastened to the bodice. The line of bows (or hooks, or pins) was concealed by decorative rolls of fabric called wings. Sleeves were often in two parts in contrasting colors and came in various shapes. In the 1560s, sleeves could be gathered, tapered, or full, but the later leg-o-mutton sleeves were not yet in fashion.

And what was worn underneath? Women wore a chemise, shift, or smock as an undergarment, usually ankle-length, and made of linen. If it was gathered at the neck to form a ruff, it might be what showed at the top of the bodice rather than the partlet.

"The Wonders of Inter-Library Loans"

I'm a big fan of doing research the old fashioned way, through books, and because of the inter-library loan program, it is possible to get hold of most books, no matter how obscure. If you've never tried it, ask your local librarian. The amount of time it takes to get a book may vary, but even the smallest village library can tap into this system.

I have two suggestions for those of you interested in books on sixteenth century houses. One is Maurice Howard's wonderful The Early Tudor Country House: Architecture and Politics 1490-1550 (1987), which is full of photos and floorplans. The other is Marc Girouard's Life in the English Country House (1980), which covers this subject in all periods of English history.

"Scandal Sheets: Sixteenth Century Style"

Face Down Under the Wych Elm makes use of a type of character familiar to modern readers–the tabloid journalist. Chediok Norden is after scandal to publish in a pamphlet on the Maidstone witch trial, certain that it will find as much popularity with the public as an earlier pamphlet on the Chelmsford witches.

Pamphlets and ballads, especially those describing executions, were immensely popular in the sixteenth century. A pamphlet was a short, unbound book which readers picked up as we would a newspaper (there were no newspapers yet) and discarded as easily. Over forty publishers were producing them between 1560 and 1622. They usually sold for a penny and since petty chapmen carried the smaller ones to sell, they eventually became known as penny chapbooks.

In London in 1583, there were 53 presses and 22 printing houses. The best paper came from France. A ream, reckoned then at 480 pages, cost seven shillings. The cost of running two presses for a year, producing about 2000 pages, was about £500. That paid for ink, wages, and overhead. Most books were published with print runs of 1000 and if 1000 copies sold at 24 shillings each, an average price for a book, the printer made a substantial profit. Writers, as ever, complained about not getting big enough advances, late royalties, etc., etc. Some things never change.

We don't know how many pamphlets there might have been, but a count of ballads indicates there were around 3000 of those published in the second half of the sixteenth century, with an average print run of 1000 to 1250 copies. These sold for a halfpenny each.

"Sixteenth Century Letters"

Recently, while working on a short story, I created a scene wherein Jennet, in her capacity as Lady Appleton's devoted housekeeper, is reading a letter from someone who wants to place his daughter at Leigh Abbey as a maidservant. I had her read aloud from the letter to Mark, her husband. When my critique group read the scene, however, they insisted I cut it. "Boring," they said. "Information dump." "Hard to follow." "Slows down the story." And, of course, they were right. The scene was not vital to the plot. So, I cut it. I'm still working on the story, in which Jennet and Mark will solve a murder while Lady Appleton is away from home, but one of the nice things about a newsletter is that I can include here anything I like. If you're bored, you don't have to read it. It doesn't affect the story.

So here is an excerpt from a real letter addressed to: "John Johnson, merchant of the Staple at Calais, be this delivered at London."

Sir, in my best manner I recommend me unto you, and to my mistress, heartily desiring God of your good welfare. Sir, I understand that you intend, by the grace of God, to be resident and dwelling in this country. Sir, I have a daughter which hath been in service three or four years in the country, and broken with all works for a woman to do, and now of late she is comen home after her term. If you be unprovided, I would be glad it might be you to have her; and by my faith, if I did know any vice or conditions by her, she should not come. And I pray you answer hereof, for unto such time as I hear from you, she shall not be fast with no man. I would that it would please you to have her. No more, but Our Lord send you of his grace, Amen. At Peterborough, on Fast Tuesday, anno 1542. By your that I can, William Howham

You can see why using even a small portion of the "real" language of the day would not be a good idea in a novel!

For more about John Johnson, his wife Sabine, and the rest of their household, I highly recommend Barbara Winchester's Tudor Family Portrait (1955). I would have been hard pressed to create a background for Nick Baldwin, the wealthy merchant who makes a brief appearance in Face Down Beneath the Eleanor Cross and takes on such an important role in Susanna's life in Face Down Under the Wych Elm and the mysteries that follow, without the insights provided in this book. Sadly, though, Johnson ended up bankrupt and facing debtor's prison. I don't think this will happen to Nick, but I make no promises. Although I am plotting about two books ahead of the one on bookstore shelves this month, what will eventually happen in the life of any given character is by no means certain.

"The Cookes of Gidea Hall"

I am often asked if the attitudes I've given Susanna, Lady Appleton, are realistic for a woman of her era. The answer is a resounding YES. Of course, not every woman in Elizabethan England held such "modern" views, but there were plenty of them who'd been brought up to think for themselves. Educating daughters as if they were sons was an idea practiced not only at the royal court, but also in the houses of gentlemen and noblemen.

Sir Thomas More was among the first and foremost to advocate the education of women, making sure his own daughters had all the advantages. Another early pioneer was Sir Anthony Cooke of Gidea Hall, Essex, one of the tutors of King Edward VI. At home, he had five daughters. He believed in learning for everyone, and in the New Religion, and he put what he believed into practice.

The oldest daughter was Mildred, born in 1526. She spoke fluent Greek and was frequently named, along with Lady Jane Grey, as a model of female erudition. She married William Cecil, who was Queen Elizabeth's most influential advisor. Need I say that Mildred, Lady Cecil (known as Lady Burghley after her husband's elevation to the peerage), was the woman behind the man? Mildred's son, Robert Cecil, took his father's place as chief advisor to Elizabeth after Lord Burghley's death. Mildred died in 1589.

Anne Cooke (1528-1610) made her reputation translating religious works (one was published as early as 1550) and was one of the wealthy widows who formed the backbone of English Puritanism late in Elizabeth's reign. She also gave birth to a rather influential son–Francis Bacon.

Elizabeth Cooke (1528-1609) had by far the most interesting life of all the sisters. As Lady Hoby she was the wife of an English ambassador to France. Late in life, as the widowed Lady Russell, she was the leader of a campaign to keep Shakespeare's company of players from building an indoor playhouse in the Blackfriars precinct, where she made her home. She was involved in a number of lawsuits and in at least one pitched battle with contentious neighbors. She held the post of Keeper of Donnington Castle from the queen and was so renowned for her learning that university scholars often traveled to Bisham Abbey to consult with her. A great deal of nonsense has also been written about her. The story of a ghost at Bisham Abbey, supposedly her son, dead of neglect and harsh treatment, is a total fabrication. She had children, but they are all accounted for. Her daughters, Elizabeth and Anne Russell, were maids of honor to the queen. One of her sons, Thomas Posthumous Hoby, a famous Puritan, was married to an early female diarist. I could go on at length about Elizabeth. There are stories both amusing and sad, especially concerning her desire to see her children marry well. The most complete account is in A.L. Rowse's The English Past (1972).

Katherine Cooke (d. 1583) was also renowned for her learning and also married an influential courtier, Sir Henry Killigrew. The fifth sister, Margaret (d.1558) married a rich merchant's heir.

"John Day the Printer"

One real historical figure who appears in "Lady Appleton and the Cautionary Herbal" is London printer John Day. Day lived from 1522 to 1584, was married twice, and had thirteen children by each wife. When he wasn't busy with his family, he was a leading Protestant printer in London. He may have gone into exile during the reign of Mary Tudor, but that isn't certain. In the 1560s he had a print shop and house, and probably a warehouse, in the Aldersgate ward. Later he also had a shop in Paul's Churchyard. Among the books he printed, aside from Susanna's fictional herbals, was what was popularly called "the Book of Martyrs," John Foxe's Acts and Monuments, first published in 1563. It was a runaway bestseller in those days, detailing the persecution of Protestants by the Catholic Queen Mary. In the 1570s, Day's stock of unbound works was valued at over three thousand pounds and he had bound stock worth between three hundred and four hundred pounds. To give you an idea of relative wealth, it cost about five hundred pounds a year to run two presses, which could produce about two thousand pages. That includes the expense of ink, wages, and overhead. Paper for an edition of one thousand copies cost three hundred and fifty pounds. A halfpence per sheet was the standard price of paper at retail. If Day sold all the copies at twenty-four shillings each, that amounted to a substantial profit.

This information comes from a slim volume by C.L. Oastler titled "John Day, the Elizabethan Printer" (Oxford: Oxford Bibliographic Society, 1975–Occasional Publication #10)

"The Rebellion of the Northern Countesses"

Face Down Before Rebel Hooves, sixth book in the Face Down series, is set in 1569, during the rebellion of the northern earls, an uprising that should, by rights, have been called the rebellion of the northern countesses.

There is conflicting information in contemporary accounts concerning the movements of the rebels and the dates of various occurrences during the rising of 1569, but to the best of my ability I have created my fictional tale within the bounds of historical fact. When there were contradictions, I made what seemed to me the most sensible choice, although that may not have been the one made by the earls and their countesses. Many of their actions defy logic.

Scholars generally agree that the countesses of Northumberland and Westmorland were "stouter" than their husbands, riding with the troops and urging them on when they faltered. Lady Westmorland was one of three daughters of that Earl of Surrey famed for his poetry. She and her two sisters were well educated, in much the same manner Lady Appleton was. Their only brother, Thomas Howard, was England's sole duke during the Elizabethan era. After the third time he was widowed, some courtiers thought he should marry Mary, Queen of Scots, who by then was a prisoner in England, as a means of reducing the threat she posed to Elizabeth's throne. Others saw the Norfolk/Mary marriage as a rallying point for rebellion. Queen Elizabeth heard these rumors and took the precaution of arresting Norfolk, but the northern earls attempted to rescue Mary anyway, hoping to make her queen of England in Elizabeth's place. Needless to say, they failed. In my version of history, Sir Walter Pendennis and Susanna play key roles in their eventual defeat.

Mary Stewart did not actively encourage the uprising of 1569 and may even have tried to dissuade the earls from carrying out their plans. She did communicate with the earls and their countesses, however, and she was not unwilling to marry the duke of Norfolk . . . if Queen Elizabeth would approve the match.

Another real person who appears in this novel is Sir George Bowes, the queen's steward at Barnard Castle. He was not well liked by his neighbors and what little history records of him suggests he returned the sentiment. During the siege of Barnard Castle, he kept a tally of those who deserted the queen's cause. During one twenty-four hour period, 226 men leapt from the walls in an attempt to join the rebels. Bowes methodically recorded that thirty-five broke legs, arms, or necks.

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© 2008 Kathy Lynn Emerson. All rights reserved.
Last updated 2/2/08