Sunday 24th August
Arriving at 10.15 am in rain, we trudged around the garden
beneath our umbrellas until we found David Millinship, who’d just arrived. Much concern about the weather. He said that the lower orders might be alright in
rain, but there would be a problem for the Quality with their expensive
costumes. Shortly afterwards we found John Fuller (servant) and Jane (Queen’s
Fool) sheltering in the entrance to the tearoom. They chatted (out of
character), as unsure as we were where the action was going to be, given the
rain, and wondering whether it was appropriate for them to share our umbrellas
in costume. Eventually they went off, and we decided to seek coffee in the
tearoom. Shortly after we were settled, Mark turned up and came over for a
brief word (“We’d had intelligence you were here”) before going off to meet
guests. For - at last - the rain was stopping.
Emerging from the tearoom we encountered Sir Roger Summers who
introduced us to Mary Odell, whom we’d never met before. We asked how we should
address the various notables, and were told to address the Queen as “Your
Grace”, and Mary Odell as “Mistress”. Returning to the main entrance, we were
greeted by Sir Thomas Seymour. We congratulated him on his marriage to the
Queen, and he expressed surprise that the “secret” was abroad. John Fuller and
Jane were gathered on the lawns with Sir Edmund Tyrwhitt, who greeted us
with a “Well met!” There followed a performance of a play by these three: “St George and the
Dragon”.
In due course the Queen arrived with her entourage, including
singer John Haywood and the musicians, who proceeded to entertain us.
The Masque was an eerie, history-in-the-present, spectacle. Surprisingly Mary Odell had misgivings about her performance when she talked to us afterwards, and we did our best to reassure her, for the whole thing had been tremendously convincing.
Among those present was Miles Coverdale, who talked to me about
his work translating the Bible and the need for a poetic sensibility in
interpreting the text.
After a fencing display at the Tithe Barn, and some fine singing
by John Haywood in the ruins of the Banqueting Hall, I found myself walking
through the gardens with Mary Odell. This would prove to be one of the most
memorable Past Pleasures experiences I’ve ever had. The talk gradually grew more and more
conspiratorial in tone until she very quietly asked, with a cautious, sideways
glance - did I have any views on the late King, Sir? Feeling quite literally
that this was too dangerous a topic for discussion, and feeling that there may
be unseen listeners behind every bush, I expressed my reluctance to comment. Oh,
I could be assured of a friendly reception, she offered, with a look of
compelling sincerity. So I ventured to suggest that I felt the King had been too
easily influenced by those around him, and to my surprise she agreed. His
advisors, she said, had too often used their influence for personal gain. Eventually
she left me, for she had to prepare for the Masque that was about to begin,
leaving me to mull over the startlingly vivid atmosphere of threat and intrigue
that I’d just experienced.
The Masque was an eerie, history-in-the-present, spectacle. Surprisingly Mary Odell had misgivings about her performance when she talked to us afterwards, and we did our best to reassure her, for the whole thing had been tremendously convincing.
The rain began again, and we took shelter in the tearoom, where we
stayed for some time, not realising that many of the characters had gathered in
a nearby marquee. We arrived there in time to see the last part of a “St George
and the Dragon” performance, after which Mary Odell complained that in my
absence she’d had no partner in the dancing. Sir Nicholas attempted to teach us
the Galliard, but this proved completely beyond my abilities, and even the
resolute Lady Anne Bourchier eventually gave up on me after gallantly trying to
keep me going. I commented to Miles Coverdale that I was doubtful which was the
easier task – translating the Bible, or learning to dance the Galliard. At 5
o’clock Lady Bourchier came over to say goodbye, but I said we’d be there again
the following day. We retired to the tearoom till 5.30 and then left, having a
brief word with Ian and Tim as they left in their cars.
Monday 25 August
We arrived early but it was still raining, and we repaired
immediately to the tearoom. Mark emerged and joined us, clearly disappointed by
the weather. I told him about my unnerving experience with Mary Odell on the
previous day, and he asked me to tell her about it, as she’d been very nervous
(it being her first day with PP). We were joined by John Fuller, Jane, and Sir
Roger, and we had a lovely out-of-character chat. John Fuller talked of a time when he’d worked with
First World War aircraft and been startled by the flimsy canvas structures. In
due course they all left, but Jane stayed a little longer, and I was glad of
the chance to talk to her out of character (the first time I’d ever been able
to do so). I wanted to thank her properly for all the immense fun of the
mornings I’d spent at the Pantiles with Black Moll. She said she always needed
a week to recover from being on such a high at Tunbridge Wells, and she seemed
surprised to learn that we too found it difficult to cope afterwards.
The rain stopped, and events began with another performance of “St
George” – this time with flames issuing from the dragon. The Queen’s arrival
impressively coincided with the appearance of the sun, but when I commented on
this to the Queen, she insisted that God, not she, was to be thanked for it. I
greeted Sir Edmund accidentally as “Sir Edward” and he corrected me, observing
that “it was a small slight” and he would forgive it. There followed a very
interesting talk with Sir Edmund and Sir Roger about whether the Earth was
spherical, flat, or saucer-shaped.
Finding Lady Herbert alone, I asked her to explain some of the
“New Learning” to me, and we talked of heresy and the Six Articles. I wondered
that it did not strike anyone that many of the so-called heretical differences
were small, and she said that it did: that much of the difficulty arose merely
through manipulation by those seeking power. Eventually she expressed surprise
that Daphne wasn’t with me, and we realised that she must have gone to the
Banqueting Hall in readiness for the singing. So we wended our way there too,
talking of the allegorical nature of masques. We found that her farthingdale
would just fit along the path between the hedges, as though the latter had been
cut especially to size. Daphne was indeed at the Banqueting Hall already,
sitting on a stone seat, and I joined her.
Later we found Jane, who was in great jest-telling form, and we had great fun
making up jests which punned upon the names of some of the notables such as Sir
Nicholas Poyntz [Sir Nicholas points …] and Sir Thomas Seymore [Sir Thomas see
more …]. As the day neared its end, I started making my farewells. When I
thanked Lady Bourchier for her company she replied that I hadn’t really had
much of it – but I said that her mere presence was enough. I told Mary Odell
that it had been a great privilege to meet her, whereupon she offered her hand
to be kissed.
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When all was ended we sat outside the tearoom and were soon joined
by Ned Ryder (“the pig man”) and his girlfriend, followed by Sir Edmund (Mike)
and Mary Odell (Vicki). Ned asked our names, saying he’d only heard us spoken
of as “the Duke and Duchess of Lancaster”!! I was very, very glad to have the chance of discussing
with Vicki our walk in the garden. She explained that we’d been the first
people she’d talked to. She’d been very nervous, but Sir Roger had taken her in
hand and introduced her to us, with whom she could be sure she’d be safe! Jane and John Fuller came over, and there was talk of a Past Pleasures day on the canal at
Dudley, which Jane was attending. When the Queen arrived, I said she’d been awesomely
queenly, and she was clearly pleased. At last everyone drifted away and we
helped carry some of the costumes out to the cars – a job for which Mark tipped
us the kingly sum of 10 pence.
