An ‘Unshameful and Mischievous Woman’? The Life and Reputation of Elizabeth ‘Jane’ Shore David Santiuste Edward IV, wrote Sir Thomas More, ‘would say that he had three concubines’, each of whom had a distinctive personality: ‘one the merriest; another the wiliest; the third the holiest harlot in his realm’. 1 The merriest, apparently, was ‘Shore’s wife’, who therefore stood out among Edward’s mistresses: ‘For many he had, but her he loved’. Richard III, however, appears to have taken a rather different view, denouncing her in one proclamation as an ‘unshameful and mischievous woman’. 2 Early in Richard’s reign she was forced to carry out a humiliating public penance in London. ‘Shore’s wife’, it would seem, was a divisive figure, and over the years her story changed in the telling. Even her real name was forgotten. She is still often known today as ‘Jane’, even though it has been clear for some time that this was an invention by the later playwright Thomas Heywood. Her true name, in fact, was Elizabeth. This has been established beyond question by Nicholas Barker, whose research uncovered several hitherto neglected pieces of evidence. 3 Nevertheless, there is much that remains obscure, and it is still often necessary to make use of problematic sources. My own account will focus on key episodes from Elizabeth’s life, while also exploring some of the historiographical issues involved. Elizabeth was born in London, probably in the early 1450s, and she came from a mercantile background: her father, John Lambert, was a mercer (a merchant who traded in textiles); her mother, Amy, was the daughter of Robert Marshall, a member of the Grocers’ Company. We can only speculate about the circumstances of Elizabeth’s upbringing - although as her father was relatively affluent, she presumably enjoyed a degree of comfort. More tells us she was highly literate, perhaps to a degree that was unusual for a woman of her status, but much of her Thomas More, The History of King Richard III, ed. Richard S. Sylvester (Newhaven and London, 1963), vol. 2 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St Thomas More. For the quotations from More’s work in this article, see pp. 53-57. English spelling has been modernised throughout. 2 Feodera, Conventiones, Litterae, etc., ed. T. Rymer (London, 1704-35), 20 vols, 12: 204-5. The document is also printed and discussed in David Santiuste, ‘“Puttyng Downe and Rebuking of Vices”: Richard III and the Proclamation for the Reform of Morals’, in Medieval Sexuality: A Casebook, ed. April Harper and Caroline Proctor (London, 2008), pp. 135-54. 3 Nicholas Barker, ‘Jane Shore, Part I: The Real Jane Shore’, Etoniana, 126 (1972), pp 383-91. See now also Margaret Crosland, The Mysterious Mistress: The Life and Legend of Jane Shore (Stroud, 2006), although this study is of greater value for its discussion of Elizabeth’s later reputation. 1 1 education was likely intended to prepare her, in a more practical sense, for an adult life as a wife and mother. Elizabeth first appears in the surviving records in the 1470s, by which time she had married her first husband, William Shore. William was a mercer, like her father, so this would have been seen by her family as a good match. While Elizabeth herself might have had little say in the matter, it should not be taken for granted that she was opposed to the union. But the marriage was not a success, and Elizabeth sought to end it. Her grounds (at least officially) were that her husband was impotent, and that as he was unable to consummate the marriage it should therefore be annulled. Marriage litigation lay within the domain of the Church, so Elizabeth took her case to the Court of Arches (one of several ecclesiastical courts in London). Marriages in the fifteenth century could be dissolved for various reasons (such as bigamy or consanguinity), but Elizabeth’s case was an unusual one. A recent study of sex and marriage in late medieval London has only revealed one other example in which impotence was cited as an issue. 4 The rarity of the situation – and perhaps also its delicacy, given the implications for Master Shore’s status in the community – might explain why Elizabeth’s suit was dismissed on several occasions. Then, however, she appealed to the Pope. Her petition stressed that she had cohabited with William for ‘the lawful time’ required (at least three years) and that she ‘was desirous of becoming a mother and having offspring’. 5 An appeal to Rome was an expensive business, so it is intriguing to consider who paid. Technically, Elizabeth’s own financial situation would still have been entangled with her husband’s, so it has been suggested that Edward IV might have provided the funds (assuming their relationship had already begun). 6 This is possible, but her father, a wealthy man who presumably hoped for grandchildren, is an equally likely candidate. At any rate, in March 1476, the Pope appointed a panel to hear the case. Given that Elizabeth later remarried, at which point William Shore was still alive, evidently the union was dissolved. There are no records of the legal process, but this must surely have been a difficult time for William (who appears to have left London immediately afterwards). 7 Shannon McSheffrey, Marriage, Sex and Civic Culture in Late Medieval London (Philadelphia, USA, 2006), p. 24. 5 Quoted in Barker, ‘Jane Shore’, p. 388. 6 Desmond Seward, The Wars of the Roses and the Lives of Five Men and Women in the Fifteenth Century (London, 1995), p. 230. 7 He may have spent some time abroad, although he also developed business interests in East Anglia. See Anne F. Sutton, ‘William Shore, Merchant of London and Derby’, Derbyshire Archaeological Journal, 106 (1986), especially pp. 131-2. 4 2 Elizabeth, then, was now free of her first husband, but a second marriage and motherhood would be put off for some time. Instead, she is generally assumed to have fully embraced a new life at the royal court – although her next few years are surprisingly poorly documented. Indeed, for the remainder of Edward IV’s life, as far as Elizabeth is concerned, the earliest surviving source is More’s History, which was written in the reign of Henry VIII. Later traditions suggest that Edward first encountered Elizabeth in William Shore’s shop (the king is sometimes said to have been in disguise), but More leaves us in the dark about how the couple might have met. We are told, however, why she caught Edward’s eye: ‘Attractive she was and fair; nothing in her body that you would have changed, but if you would, you might have wished her somewhat higher’. More also took pains, though, to stress that her appeal was more than skin-deep: Yet she delighted not men so much in her beauty as in her pleasant behaviour. For a proper wit had she, and could both read well and write, merry in company, ready and quick of answer, neither mute nor full of babble, sometimes taunting without displeasure, and not without disport. These were the qualities, according to More, that led to a long-term relationship with Edward IV, whereas Mancini was led to believe that he quickly tired of his mistresses. 8 Elizabeth’s position at court seemingly brought her influence, as she was able to intercede with the king on others’ behalf, yet she did this ‘either for none or very small rewards’. More’s History remains the fullest source for Elizabeth’s life after the death of Edward IV, but at this stage it can be supplemented by more strictly contemporary evidence. More was the first writer to connect Elizabeth directly with King Edward (it has therefore been questioned whether the relationship existed at all 9), but she was also associated in written sources with other men at court. More suggests she began an affair with William, Lord Hastings - and this is to some extent supported by the Great Chronicle of London - whereas Richard III’s new regime linked her with Thomas, Marquis of Dorset. Naturally, the idea that Elizabeth was simultaneously conducting affairs with both men, at such a tumultuous time, seems difficult to credit. Moreover, Dorset and Hastings appear to have loathed each other, which would surely have made life difficult for Elizabeth – although Mancini’s account does imply that sexual jealousy helped to fuel their enmity. 10 Another possibility is that Elizabeth was politically Domenic Mancini, The Usurpation of Richard III, ed. and trans. C.A.J. Armstrong (Oxford, 1969), p. 66. John Ashdown-Hill, The Private Life of Edward IV (Stroud, 2016), pp. 159-67, especially p. 165. 10 Mancini, p. 68. 8 9 3 involved with both men, perhaps acting as a ‘go-between’ as part of a conspiracy against Richard III. This could explain Richard’s subsequent treatment of Elizabeth, which was undeniably harsh (at least at first). After Hastings’ death, More tells us that Elizabeth was despoiled of her goods (and apparently also some of Hastings’ possessions), and thereafter she was imprisoned at Richard’s command. These events are attested by other sources, respectively the Great Chronicle and a contemporary letter written by Simon Stallworth. 11 There is no contemporary corroboration, however, for More’s report that Richard sought to charge Elizabeth with witchcraft, before the idea was swiftly dropped. But this was not the end of Elizabeth’s troubles, as More’s History explains: As a good and continent prince, clean and faultless of himself, sent out of heaven into this vicious world for the amendment of men’s manners, he [Richard] caused the Bishop of London to put her to open penance. More’s sarcasm is biting here, and it begins to become apparent why he devoted so much attention to Elizabeth. As is well known, More was scarcely an objective observer of Richard III and his time, yet it is also too simplistic to dismiss him as a ‘Tudor hack’. The late Alison Hanham has argued that the best way to make sense of More’s History is to read it as a political drama, influenced by classical models, in which satire played a large part. 12 More was concerned with what he would have seen as broader moral truths, not with specific historical facts, and it is in this context that his depiction of Elizabeth should probably be understood. Thanks to More, Elizabeth’s penance is probably the most famous aspect of her story, and he provides a characteristically colourful account. As a means of atonement, Elizabeth is forced to take part in a religious procession on a Sunday, wearing only her kirtle (underskirt) and carrying a lighted taper; a public shaming was a standard punishment for ‘immoral’ women (including prostitutes). While Elizabeth is walking through the streets, however, the tolerant and compassionate attitudes of her fellow citizens are in marked contrast to Richard’s hypocritical and self-delusional zeal (this is More’s interpretation, of course). More does allow there were some who were ‘more amorous of her body than curious of her soul’, but even those others who apparently disapproved of her morals ‘pitied they more her penance than rejoiced therein’. There can be no doubt that Elizabeth was forced to do penance, but did this really happen as More described? He tells us that Elizabeth’s punishment backfired – as it The Great Chronicle of London, ed. Arthur Thomas and Isobel D. Thornley (London, 1938), p. 233. For the Stallworth letter see Sean Cunningham, Richard III: A Royal Enigma (London, 2003), pp. 42-3. 12 Alison Hanham, Richard III and His Early Historians (London, 1975), pp. 152-90, especially pp. 155-61. 11 4 alienated the people from Richard – but this is open to question. I have argued elsewhere that Richard was sensitive to contemporary concerns, and that his stern attiude towards sexual licence would have been approved by at least some of his subjects. 13 His message is particularly likely to have received a favourable reception in large towns, including London, where there was a growing preoccupation with sexual misconduct. Women, it must be said, were disproportionately targeted in this new moral fervour, although Richard also echoed contemporary concerns by criticising the sexual behaviour of men. In Richard’s ‘Proclamation for the Reform of Morals’, quoted above, Elizabeth only appears, in fact, in passing, whereas her putative lover, Dorset and his fellow rebels are repeatedly denounced as ‘horrible adulterers and bawds’. Moreover, whereas Richard was obviously not a feminist, he almost certainly saw Elizabeth’s indiscretions as less significant. His Proclamation implies that Dorset, along with other members of Edward IV’s regime, had abused his exalted position in pursuit of sexual gratification. Richard’s concern with sexual morality can therefore be interpreted as part of a broader agenda, in which he committed himself to a more responsible form of governance. Of course, it does remain the case that Elizabeth was publicly humiliated, whereas Dorset evaded capture, and after her penance she was returned to Ludgate Gaol. Nevertheless, Richard’s attitude towards Elizabeth was not so pitiless as More would have us believe – as the following episode makes clear. When Elizabeth was still in prison she began a relationship with Thomas Lynom, Richard’s King’s Solicitor, and the couple soon wished to marry. Richard wrote to his chancellor, John Russell, exhorting him to dissuade Lynom. 14 At the start of the letter the tone is imperious; it was to Richard’s ‘great marvel’, we are told, that Lynom had allowed himself to become ‘blinded and abused’ with Elizabeth. But the mask quickly slips. If Lynom was ‘utter set’ on the marriage (as he was), Richard would be ‘content’. Writing in the 1950s, Paul Murray Kendall believed that Lynom decided to end his relationship with Elizabeth, 15 but we now know that the couple did go on to marry. It also seems clear that Richard kept his word; Lynom continued in royal service and his career was not adversely affected. This undercuts one of More’s key moral messages. He presents Richard (for whatever reason) as a proud and self-righteous hypocrite – and pride, of course, often comes before a fall. More’s Richard would surely have revelled in heaping more misery on Elizabeth (and Lynom), even if this See note 2, above. P.W. Hammond and Anne F. Sutton, eds., Richard III: The Road to Bosworth Field (London, 1985), p. 194. 15 Paul Murray Kendall, Richard the Third (London, 1955), pp. 390-91. 13 14 5 proved to be a short-sighted policy. Yet if the real Richard was not entirely consistent, he was evidently a different sort of character to the one depicted in the History. After her marriage to Lynom, Elizabeth’s life again took a different course. After Bosworth, Lynom was able to make his peace with the Tudor regime, and he continued to prosper (albeit not to the extent he might have anticipated under Richard III). Elizabeth and her husband both appear in her father’s will, dated 1487, as does their child, Julian (of whom little else, regrettably, is known). 16 Elizabeth herself was to receive ‘a bed of arras with the velour tester and curtains, [and] a stained cloth of Mary Magdalen and Martha’. Was the reference to Mary Magdalen intended to suggest that Elizabeth had finally chosen a more respectable path? Certainly, John Lambert was happy for his daughter to be depicted on his memorial brass at Hinxworth (where he established himself before his death), which can still be seen today. Nothing of Elizabeth’s life with Lynom appears in More’s History, but his account relates that she later fell on hard times (presumably after her husband died?). Her last years, apparently, were spent in London, but she now found herself alone, in a ‘beggarly condition, unfriended and worn out of acquaintance’. By this time Elizabeth was an elderly woman (one version of the History records that she lived until 1527), described as ‘lean, withered and dried up’. More did go on to add, however, that if one looked closely enough, one might still discern that she once had a ‘fair face’. Should we assume, then, that More knew Elizabeth personally? Marilyn Garabet has noted that he maintained a house in Chelsea which offered charity to people in need, including poor widows; she proposes that Elizabeth was one of those whom More took into his care. 17 This is plausible, yet it is also significant that his description of Elizabeth’s last days, where a ‘fallen woman’ loses her beauty, echoes familiar tropes in moral literature. One might compare More’s work, for instance, to Robert Henryson’s Testament of Cresseid (a Scottish poem that was popular in Tudor England), where the eponymous heroine is struck down by leprosy. 18 Henryson’s work is darker than More’s, although both men present an intriguingly ambiguous portrait of a woman, blending acknowledgment of her faults (as the authors present them) with sympathy for her fate. Given More’s satirical tendencies, one might wonder whether he was, in fact, poking fun at more solemn writers. On the other Part of the original document is reproduced in Crosland, Mysterious Mistress, p. 187. Letter to The Ricardian Bulletin (Winter, 2008), pp. 48-9. 18 Available online (ed. Robert L. Hendrick) at http://d.lib.rochester.edu/teams/text/kindrick-poemsof-robert-henryson-testament-of-cresseid (accessed 1 October, 2018). 16 17 6 hand, if we can read More literally here, then it is ironic that his attitudes seem to have mirrored Richard III’s. In the years after her death, interest in Elizabeth has waxed and waned – and sometimes in surprising ways. Her story found an unlikely popularity, for instance, in nineteenth-century Italy, France and Spain. 19 While she did not attract Shakespeare’s full attention, other novelists and playwrights have cast her in the title role (and, of course, as the victim of a dastardly Richard III). But much of the trail can be traced back to More. If he had not decided to feature Elizabeth so prominently in his History, it seems extremely unlikely that she would still be remembered today. Nevertheless, it is also clear that he chose to highlight elements of her life that suited his own preoccupations, and we are left to wonder what Elizabeth herself would have made of her depiction in his work. Unfortunately, the real Elizabeth, like so many medieval women, remains an elusive figure indeed. 19 Crosland, Mysterious Mistress, pp. 156-8. 7