Elizabethan period

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Pix & notes: Richmond Palace

The fifth book in my Francis Bacon mystery series, Let Slip the Dogs, takes place at Richmond Palace. Alas, the palace is long gone, so I had to rely on history books and re-creations.

“Richmond was the most orderly and most logical of buildings, and both in its plan and elevations was the perfect expression of the Tudor conception of a community household.” (Dunlop, see below.)

From the beginning

Henry_Seven_England
Henry VII

The Tudor monarchs needed a lot of palaces. They built a strong, central government, centered around the monarch. All power descended from the throne. Sure, there were still a few odd dukes or overweening earls out there running their own fiefdoms, but little by little, the Tudors cut their heads off or otherwise reined them in.

With everybody dangling in the monarch’s train all the time, the palace gets dirty, the privies fill up, and all the comestibles in the area get eaten. When that happens, you’ve got to pack up and move on down the river — or up. So they had many palaces along the Thames, from Greenwich to Richmond.

There was a manor house at Sheen, as Richmond was originally called, from the time of Edward I (1239-1307). Richard II made Sheen his primary residence, until his beloved Anne of Bohemia died and he had the place pulled down in his grief. Henry V (not a Tudor, a Plantagenet) started rebuilding it, calling it Sheen Palace, a terrible name. It sounds like a palace well-polished with Acme Palace Polisher.

In 1497, the place burned down. Henry VII (the first Tudor king) rebuilt it. He named it Richmond Palace after the title he inherited from his father, the Earl of Richmond, thus neatly separating it from past associations. Bordering on the magnificent Richmond Park, it was a favorite hunting retreat until the Commonwealth demolished it, selling off the parts. Philistines.

First impressions

Here is the only decent image of the palace as it was. This is an engraving made in 1765 by James Basire, “From an ancient Drawing in the Possession of the Earl of Cardigan, Sumptibus Societatis Antiquariorum, (at the expense of the Society of Antiquaries) London, MDCCLXV.” (Wikipedia.)

When you write mysteries, you study this sort of picture intently, wondering what’s inside those windows and how hard it would be to push someone out. I don’t do that in this book, but it’s always an option. I just think it would be kind of hard to get away with, as a murder method.

I also think it’s a little odd to have windows opening onto the lawn leading right down to the river. That seems very insecure to me. What’s in those rooms? Guards? Or meeting rooms? They must have a few of those, since the Privy Council traveled with the monarch and met every day.

That cone-shaped roof covers the giant kitchen. The crenelatted structure to its right is the Great Hall. See the high, arched windows? Queen Elizabeth dined in private, but she liked for everyone else to eat together in the hall. Now that would’ve been something! Many courtiers brought their own cooks, who had to jostle for working space in the great kitchen. Must have been a semi-controlled madhouse, worthy of its own story, which I have not (yet) written.

A bend in the river

Let’s get oriented. Richmond is southwest of London, more west than South. These days, Richmond is a very posh suburb with lots of chi-chi clothing shops and a pretzel place in the train station that’s worth checking out. The river walk is lined with outdoor cafes and is a lovely, lovely popular place to spend an evening. My book of walking tours has a dandy 5-mile walk that begins and ends in cafe land. I’ll do another post about Richmond Park soon.

So here’s the long view of Richmond. Note the sinuous shape of the Thames in this stretch of river.

See where it curves up again on the right edge? That’s going to take a sharper turn to the north, go past Westminster, and swing on around east again. Richmond, as we can see, is both north and south of the river — and east. There were no bridges down in here Bacon’s day; only London Bridge with its many tall houses far downstream. Most of your traffic in this zone was by boat. There were regular ferries at places like Twickenham.

You can see the vast green expanse of Richmond Park to the south. The green blob in the north is Kew Gardens, a fabulous retreat I’ve blogged about already. Wherry on up river (down on the map, confusingly) past Kingston upon Thames and you’ll take a sharp turn to the left/west, swing north again, and find yourself at Hampton Court Palace surrounded by more sumptuous greenery. That’s how it works. First you have centuries of overweening noblepersons pushing struggling cottagers off the best land; then you have a big world war and a major economic restructuring, and all these parks become, er, parks. Public parks, if you can afford to shlep yourself down here.

richmond_green
Richmond Green, standing in the street in front of the old gatehouse, I think.

Details and dimensions

Ian Dunlop (reference below) used many sources to reveal the contours of England’s lost palaces, including an anonymous description written in Henry VII’s reign and Francis Bacon’s biography of that same king. Bacon would have spent many days at Richmond Palace, and perhaps some nights. He had his own small lodge at Twickenham right across the river, so he could have commuted. I put him in a small, undistinguished chamber at the palace for narrative convenience. (I would have had to make a character out of one of those wherrymen.)

But it’s possible he would have insisted on a chamber in the palace along with the other courtiers. I figure it’s like staying at the hotel where the conference is being held, rather than at a cheaper place down the road. You want to be where the action is.

eastbury_manor_stairs
Narrow winding stairs, perhaps like the ones in these slender towers. Run up and down one of these in a late period farthingale! I double-dare ya!

Dunlop says the palace covered some 10 acres. By comparison, Richmond Green, across which I have walked, is 20 acres. Most of what we see in the engraving is a complex structure called the Privy Lodgings. There were 14 of those bulb-domed towers, each topped with a gilded weather vane flying a gold & azure banner. In between the towers were three-story buildings, all built of brightly colored stone, all with lots of diamond-paned windows. It must have looked like a fairy palace. It was obviously not built for defense, which must have been part of the point Henry VII was making.

Twelve rooms on each floor, I read. Of what? I ask. There’s no floor plan and that “Privy Lodgings” looks like a multi-building area with probably alleys running between micro-courts, necessary to let in light. I pretty much stayed out it. Somewhere in there, probably facing the Middle Court, were the Queen’s actual chambers: the Presence Chamber, the Privy Chamber where she spent most of the day with her favorites, and the Privy Bedchamber. I imagined these to be laid out much like its contemporary, Fontainebleu, which I visited in May and will blog about soon.

That Middle Court was a treat, in its day. In the center there was a fountain with lions and red dragons and goodly beasts in the upper part, in the middle branches of red roses and other flowers with water running out, and clear pure water into the cistern at the bottom. A good place to stand around in your fancy clothes and gossip, I should think, noticing who is noticing you from the windows of the Privy Chamber above.

richmond_gate
The gatehouse is all that’s left. Following this fellow, we walk from Richmond Green into what used to be the Great Court. It’s a square of buildings now, as then, but full of parked cars and thus not much fun to photograph.

The Great Hall, where everyone had their meals and where plays must have been performed in the winter, was 100 ft x 40 ft. Must have had a magnificent hammerbeam ceiling. Outside the hall, past that cone-headed kitchen, we find a confused parcel of buildings, constructed mostly of brick and timber. Flesh larders, fish larders, pastry, and plummery (a place for preserving fruit?), poultry house, scalding house, wood yard, coal house, and at a discreet distance,” ‘a large House of office.’ This is what they called a group toilet. There would have been pipes or a ditch taking the effluent to the river, one assumes.

They got their drinking water from springs in New Park – the White Conduit – and Richmond Town Fields – the Red Conduit. Some of this clean water ran into the fancy fountain in the Middle Court. Servants must have gotten water for their masters to wash their faces there, early in the morning.

Nothing anywhere tells me how many people lived in the palace when the Queen was there. But I find a note about food supplies. Each officer has a cook to look after his food in the Queen’s Kitchens. 18 kitchens, each crowded, a veritable hell.  80-100 sheep consumed every day, 12 head of cattle, a dozen and a half calves, in addition to what’s hunted – rabbits, birds, wild boar, venison.

Pass through the gate leaving the Middle Court and enter the Great Court, 78 feet x 180 ft, paved, surrounded by a range of two-storied buildings for Gentlemen and Grooms of the Privy Chamber and Gentlemen of the Bedchamber.

Officers: Cup-Bearer, Carver, Sewer, Grooms of the Privy Chamber, Spicery, and Chandlery, the Confectioner, the Housekeeper, the Porter, the Chaplains, the Gentlemen of the Bedchamber…. These lodged in the outer quadrangle, aka the Wardrobe Court. Two-story houses which lay between privy chambers and the outer gate, insulating the royal family. I put the Gentlewomen of the Privy Chambers out here, and stuck poor Francis Bacon at the top of an addition to the gatehouse.

Re-creation

Some smart folks at the University of Southern California created a re-creation of Richmond Palace as part of a study of Power and Politics of Architecture in Tudor England. Dashed interesting stuff, what? I relied on their drawing for moving my people around. One small point: the row of buildings on the right side of the Great Court look one-storied in their plan, but Dunlop said two. So I made them two.

They have a three-dimensional version here. Have I mentioned lately how much I love scholars? We would be so much poorer, intellectually and imaginatively, without them. Let’s keep those actual facts flowing, folks, and preserve the institutions that make the work possible.
richmond_palace

See the orchards near the river on the top left? I love orchards. We had cherry trees, probably some of them espaliered against those warm brick walls. Undoubtedly also pears, apples, peaches, gooseberries, raspberries, and plums. Coming toward us, at the bottom left of the plan, is the big formal garden through which we stroll, morning and evening, in our colorful raiment. Level, symmetrical, neat, loaded with symbolism — that’s what Tudors liked in a garden! Leave the wildness out there in the wilderness.

But they would have fantastic beasts of carved and painted wood on pillars dotted about. I’m afraid those things are just long gone. But I can close with one from a recreation at Hampton Court, courtesy of Culture 24.nti_HRP_Garden_03.JPG

 

References

Duncan, Andrew. 2002. Favourite London Walks: 50 Classic Routes Exploring London’s Heritage. London: New Holland. [NB: This book is printed on coated stock, so it is heavy! I copy the walks I mean to take and just carry the featherweight sheets of printer paper.]

Dunlop, Ian. 1962. Palaces and Progresses of Elizabeth I. London: Jonathan Cape.

Montague-Smith, Patrick, and Hugh Montgomery-Massingberd. 1981. The Country Life Book of Royal Palaces, Castles & Homes, Including Vanished Palaces and Historic Houses with Royal Connections. Country Life Books.

Bacon's essays: Of Usury

usurer
Usurer with a tearful woman, 1654, Gabriël Metsue

Of Usury is a hard one! Not just the Latin, of which there is an abundance; also the shifts in meanings of words having to do with financial dealings. And my general ignorance about financial stuff. Ah, well! We can but soldier on, with the aid of our friend Richard Whateley.

Rude words about money-lenders

Bacon gives us a few choice examples: “[T]he usurer is the greatest Sabbath-breaker, because his plough goeth every Sunday.” “That the usurer breaketh the first law, that was made for mankind after the fall, which was, in sudore vultus tui comedes panem tuum (in the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread); not, in sudore vultus alieni (in the sweat of another’s face.)”

“That it is against nature for money to beget money.” I wonder at this one. What else would money beget?

But usury is necessary, Bacon rightly observes, so why fuss? “[U]sury is a concessum propter duritiem cordis (a concession on account of hardness of heart); for since there must be borrowing and lending, and men are so hard of heart, as they will not lend freely, usury must be permitted.”

Given the realities of the world we live in, let us take usury as a given and spend our time more fruitfully laying forth its advantages (commodities) and disadvantages (discommodities.)

The discommodities of usury

“First, that it makes fewer merchants. For were it not for this lazy trade of usury, money would not be still, but would in great part be employed upon merchandizing (trading); which is the vena porta (great vein) of wealth in a state.” 

merchant
A merchant, possibly from Venice

I don’t understand this. Don’t usurers (banks, nowadays) lend money so that merchants can engage in more trade? Like, buy more stuff to sell somewhere else? Maybe Bacon means that usurers would spend their money on trade, instead of lazily lending it out to others.

“The second, that it makes poor merchants. For, as a farmer cannot husband his ground so well, if he sit at a great rent; so the merchant cannot drive his trade so well, if he sit at great usury.”

This one I understand: paying interest on loans takes a big bite out of your income.

“The third is incident to the other two; and that is the decay of customs of kings or states, which ebb or flow, with merchandizing.” I guess he means that usury inhibits trade among nations?

“The fourth, that it bringeth the treasure of a realm, or state, into a few hands. For the usurer being at certainties, and others at uncertainties, at the end of the game, most of the money will be in the box; and ever a state flourisheth, when wealth is more equally spread.”

That’s the money quote for me: “ever a state flourisheth, when wealth is more equally spread.” We’re living in a time of great concentration of wealth in the hands of a very few, with disastrous consequences for nations and peoples. I’m surprised to see Bacon expressing this clear statement, but perhaps I shouldn’t be. He may have loved money, or rather the luxuries money buys, but he could see the negative effects of great disparities of wealth clearly in his own time.

“The fifth, that it beats down the price of land; for the employment of money, is chiefly either merchandizing or purchasing; and usury waylays both.”

hogarth-prison-scene
The Prison Scene — A Rake’s Progress. (Debtor’s prison) 1732, William Hogarth.

Uh… do interest rates interact with real estate prices? I suppose they do… buyers and sellers do better with lower rates, I think. I’m really not the person to be explaining financial matters.

“The sixth, that it doth dull and damp all industries, improvements, and new inventions, wherein money would be stirring, if it were not for this slug.”

We seem to think the opposite way. We rely on venture capitalists – money lenders – to provide capital for the launching of new enterprises.

“The last, that it is the canker and ruin of many men’s estates; which, in process of time, breeds a public poverty.” Interest payments can bring a person down, that’s for sure, especially at the lower end of the economic scale where the interest rates are the highest. You can never get out of debt, because you can’t get past the interest payments.

The commodities of usury

“[F]irst, that howsoever usury in some respect hindereth merchandizing, yet in some other it advanceth it; for it is certain that the greatest part of trade is driven by young merchants, upon borrowing at interest; so as if the usurer either call in, or keep back, his money, there will ensue, presently, a great stand of trade.”

That’s the way we see it. You have to be able to borrow money in order to go into business, but we don’t want those interest rates getting out of control.

money-lenders
The moneychanger and his wife, 1538, Marinus van Reymerswaele

“The second is, that were it not for this easy borrowing upon interest, men’s necessities would draw upon them a most sudden undoing; in that they would be forced to sell their means (be it lands or goods) far under foot; and so, whereas usury doth but gnaw upon them, bad markets would swallow them quite up.”

Again, still true. If you couldn’t borrow, you’d have to put your principle assets at risk, like your house. Losing that would ruin you. You couldn’t risk it, so you wouldn’t do the business thing you had in mind. But professional money lenders can sustain that loss as part of their normal costs of doing business.

“The third and last is, that it is a vanity to conceive, that there would be ordinary borrowing without profit; and it is impossible to conceive, the number of inconveniences that will ensue, if borrowing be cramped. Therefore to speak of the abolishing of usury is idle. All states have ever had it, in one kind or rate, or other. So as that opinion must be sent to Utopia.”

Get over it, Bacon says. We need money-lending, everyone everywhere always has, so stop railing about these simple facts of life. I really like that last expression: send that opinion to Utopia!

utopia
Utopia? Happy Arcadia, 1889, Konstantin Makovsky.

 

The reiglement of usury

I’ve never seen that word before, but it’s easy enough to guess it’s meaning: regulation.

teeth
Three grotesque old men with awful teeth. Engraving by T. Sandars after J. Collier, 1773.

“It appears, by the balance of commodities and discommodities of usury, two things are to be reconciled. The one, that the tooth of usury be grinded, that it bite not too much; the other, that there be left open a means, to invite moneyed men to lend to the merchants, for the continuing and quickening of trade.”

This is the main job of our modern Federal Reserve Bank, isn’t it? Regulating interest rates so that they stimulate the economy by making it easy enough to borrow what you need while providing a fair profit to the money lenders. That’s my simple-minded view anyway.

Bacon proposes a two-tier system: “That there be two rates of usury: the one free, and general for all; the other under license only, to certain persons, and in certain places of merchandizing.”

By ‘free’ he doesn’t mean ‘without charge.’ I think he means, ‘accessible to everyone.’

Then he gets into specific numbers, leaving me in the dust. He must have dealt with such numbers, especially with respect to real estate transactions, all the time as a lawyer. Then as now, who owes what to whom is a big part of legal disputes.

“This will, in good part, raise the price of land, because land purchased at sixteen years’ purchase will yield six in the hundred, and somewhat more; whereas this rate of interest, yields but five.”

Here I am, in that dust again.

“Secondly, let there be certain persons licensed, to lend to known merchants, upon usury at a higher rate…” I think he’s proposing that the state allow an unlimited number of licensed money-lenders in principal cities only, allowing them to lend money at a higher rate to a certain class of established merchants.” Prime, sub-prime?

CastingoutMoneyChangers
Jesus casting out the money changers at the temple, 1800s, Carl Bloch.

Here’s a longish paragraph of specifics that I just can’t face. Sorry, y’all. He’s basically proposing some degree of state involvement in the money-lending business, at least to the extent of establishing a tier of interest rates for specified classes of borrowers and thereby in some sense authorizing specified classes of lenders.

“If it be objected that this doth in a sort authorize usury, which before, was in some places but permissive; the answer is, that it is better to mitigate usury, by declaration, than to suffer it to rage, by connivance.”

Does this mean the state officially approves the heinous act of usury? Well, yes. And get over it, Bacon says, which we have. In our time, we don’t even debate the validity of the whole idea of usury (charging interest for loans). It’s an essential thread in the fabric of our economic lives.

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