The Porch of Banqueting Hall: Wingfield.
This plot was not the first having the same end in view, for in 1569 a certain Leonard Dacre was implicated. Now if this was a relation of the Earl of Shrewsbury’s, through his mother, Mary Dacre, the Earl may well have been the instigator of the plot, for we have seen how little he cared what became of his charge. What is more likely than that he should choose Dacre, a relative, to assist the enterprise—and bear the blame—as a blood tie would be less an object of suspicion, and at the same time more loyal to his employer? Dacre’s plot at once aroused the slumbering suspicions of Elizabeth, and she, giving as a reason that Lord Shrewsbury’s health was not of the best, directed the Earl of Huntingdon to watch the Queen. The immediate outcome was a reduction in her retinue to thirty persons, with the object of avoiding the influx or substitution of suspicious persons. Other futile attempts, devoid of interest, were made at various times and by various persons to effect the release of this interesting prisoner.
It is easy to understand how in a house like this, teeming with menials and servants, the substitution of a servant for a spy or messenger for Mary Stuart would be an easy matter. The kitchen staff must have been enormous, as, according to Sir Ralph Sadleir’s report, the daily meals of the Queen “on Fishe days and Flesh days” consisted of “about 16 dishes dressed after their owne manner, sometimes more or less, as the provision serveth.” The price of necessary foodstuffs at Wingfield at the time was not high according to present day reckoning, for “a good ox cost £4, sheep £7 a score, veal and other meats reasonable good charge, about 8s.” Wheat was priced at £1 a quarter; malt at 16s. a quarter; hay 13s. 4d. a load; oats 8s. a quarter; and peas 12s. for the same quantity. The drink bill—no small item in those days—run up by Queen Mary was for ten tuns of wine annually.
The captive’s linen was provided by the Earl of Shrewsbury, for that supplied by Queen Elizabeth was declared to be “nothing of it serviceable, but worn and spent.”
The before-mentioned report of Sir Ralph Sadleir states that the Queen’s stable held four good coach horses of her own; her gentlemen had six, and the total number kept was about forty.
It would thus seem easy for a stranger to obtain a post among such numbers without a fresh face being observed, and in the crowded kitchens the entrance of a disguised stranger through the little door opening towards Dethick and the west would possibly be unobserved. Then, among the number of servants some might be won over by a bribe, a note concealed in food might reach the Queen; or among the stable helps one might be found who could give news to the captive for some trifling reward. Chances seem to have existed on every hand. But to return to the ill-fated Babington. Babington had been brought up by his mother and two guardians in an atmosphere of stout but secret Roman Catholicism, and no doubt his situation at the age of sixteen as Queen Mary’s page was productive of a chivalrous love for the fair captive. At nineteen years of age he was the moving spirit in a plot to conceal two Jesuits; and three years later his thoughts reverted to the release of the Queen, whose plight had so strongly appealed to his youthful mind. The following year he formed a plot for Mary’s release and Queen Elizabeth’s assassination; but all the while the busy spies of Walsyngham were quietly collecting material from the correspondence relative to his cherished scheme, and were suiting their actions to his, with a view to successfully foiling his attempt. He was hunted down, but escaped till 1587, when he was caught and tried with a dozen other well-born youths, and met his death on September 20th at Lincoln’s Inn Fields. In the report of the apprehension of the conspirators is the following:—
“The names of sooche as are touched as made partyes of the confideracye,” followed by the names of Ballard, Savage, Tycheborne, G. Gifford, St. Donne, Tylney, and Gage; “and there were,” the report continues, “13 who were at large, vizt., Babington, Barnewell, Salisbury,” etc.
The Queen, who was removed from Wingfield on January 13th, 1585, was incarcerated at Tutbury. A curious tradition of late years has been put forward; it is to the effect that her son was born at Wingfield! The authority for this has been traced to a statement in a guide book to the effect that “Mary Stuart was made a prisoner, and it was at Wingfield Manor that she spent part of her confinement.” This erroneous reading has obtained a footing, and should be promptly eradicated. Thus is “history” made.
On the death of the seventh Earl of Shrewsbury, his three daughters, co-heiresses, divided the estates, Wingfield falling to the eldest, Lady Pembroke. The new owners were now in troublous times, and during the Civil Wars the manor house was stoutly held for the Parliamentary forces. The little garrison of about one hundred men at arms was reduced to sixty at the request of the Parliamentary leader, Fairfax, who was forcing his way northwards into Yorkshire. Sir John Gell complied with the request in 1643, and left the house too weakly defended; the close of the same year saw a vigorous and successful attack by the Royalist troops under the Earl of Newcastle, and the manor house, after a twelve days’ struggle, was occupied on December 19th. On the day following Sir John Gell arrived, and proceeded to stir up the new owners, who were as yet far from fully acquainted with their new quarters. Preliminary skirmishes took place in the vicinity, in which two columns of horse lost their colours, these being sent to London by the triumphant Gell.
The Earl of Newcastle passed on the command to Sir John Fitzherbert, of Tissington, who held the house for six months. The Wingfield garrison proving troublesome to the Parliamentary forces, Sir John Gell was told off to retake the manor house, which he did with difficulty, as it required all the forces at his command, reinforced with 200 foot of Colonel Hutchinson’s. Gell sent to Nottingham for troops, asking for “assistance to beleaguer Wingfield Manor, because it was as great an annoyance to Nottinghamshire as to Derbyshire.” This diplomatic request was productive of the desired result. Strict siege was laid to the manor house for fifteen days, after which Gell’s troops were called off to repel a threatened Royalist attack; this they accomplished to their satisfaction, and they once more returned to the siege. The naturally strong situation of the house was nearly an insurmountable obstacle to Gell, and he found that unless his artillery was considerably reinforced by heavier pieces, he should be compelled to starve the gallant little band out as the only practicable means of reducing their fortress to submission. This plan was evidently not to his liking, as he was likely at any time to be set upon by small bodies of Royalist troops, whose harassing action would compel a temporary raising of the siege, and consequently a corresponding influx of provisions to the defenders during the absence of the beleaguering troops. He therefore requested heavier pieces of ordnance from Major-General Crawford, and on receipt of his new artillery he set to work to make a breach in the walls with all dispatch. So great was his success and so true his fire that after only three hours’ assault with his “foure great peeces for battering,” the whole defending force of 220 men surrendered themselves on condition that every man should be allowed to return home unharmed.