Celia Imrie Who Do You Think You Are?

My mother was quite a toff.

She did try to tell me how we were related to William the Conqueror,

but I just found it too uncomfortable.

I didn't want people to think that I was posh.

She was proud of her heritage

and couldn't quite understand why I was trying to squirm out of it.

I just wanted to go and be an actress and not be judged.

Actress Celia Imrie has starred in more than 150 stage,

film and television productions, including Acorn Antiques.

And if that's what marriage entails then, quite frankly,

cousin Harriet, the answer is no, no...

The answer is no, no, no!

During her 40-year career,

she's appeared in everything from Star Wars to Calendar Girls.

Ladies and gentlemen, you have 20 minutes, please. Thank you.

I adored my mother.

I loved her especially for breaking all the rules because

there were immensely strict rules for the way she was brought up.

I remember my mother talking about people who'd got gumption.

She really did. She had a great spark.

So I'm quite intrigued about the female line.

Well, I can't believe that there isn't something courageous,

rather than people just having cups of tea all over the place.

I would be shocked but intrigued

if there were any criminals in the family.

Please don't let me find a lot of boring relatives,

that would be awful.

Celia Imrie has never married

and lives in London with her only son, 18-year-old Angus.

Angus has a passion for politics.

I'm not quite sure where that's come from, as a matter of fact.

Tony Benn is his hero.

He's been out canvassing for the Labour Party.

He's very moral and very fair,

and I'm intrigued as to know whether there's anything, um,

in that line in my family - not that I know of,

but...I'd be fascinated.

Because I remember my mother often saying,

"Well, of course, it's all in the genes."

All the time. Any excuse, "It's all in the genes."

Celia was born in Surrey in 1952.

Her father, David, was a doctor.

Her mother, Diana, came from a long line of English aristocrats.

I know that my father was from working-class Glasgow

and I'm very proud of my Scottish heritage.

My mother's side, I know, is intriguing

and, because I wasn't listening

when she was trying to tell me, I'm fascinated to find out more.

I'm on my way to see Patricia, my cousin, who is an absolute hoot.

It's a very good way to start the journey.

And I think she's got lots of family secrets and photographs,

and knew my grandparents much better than I did.

My dear!

What a treat to see you.

How really lovely.

This is coals to Newcastle, for heaven's sake.

-Oh, not at all.

-I knew it would be.

-What fun.

I know you know all the secrets, so I want to find out now, please.

Well, I know a few, darling, I know a few.

-This is The Croft.

-It's The Croft...

Where our grandfather Lumley, up there, Lumley Cater,

and grandmother Adeline lived from 1921.

Now here's a little picnic during the shoot.

Adeline stood so well.

-Yes, except no ankles.

-No ankles.

-Just like me.

Well, I have no... I've got tree trunks. Tree trunks.

Well, isn't that the most miserable thing?

You have to see your grandfather acting.

-They had a village fete every year.

-Major... Major costumes going on.

-Yes. Thespian number one.

-Yes.

-Lumley.

Where do you get your acting from, may I ask?

-Well, I did wonder, you see.

-Yes.

-Mums.

-Yes.

Looking very naughty. No flowers. She forgot her flowers.

She probably threw them off.

So can you remember my mother's wedding

and the furore it might have caused?

It did really, because she was 34,

which in those days was quite advanced.

-On the shelf.

-Well, dusty.

SHE LAUGHS

I mean, very dusty.

She was engaged, I think, three times, officially.

-Oh!

-Oh, yes. A ring on finger, you know.

-Oh, really? I knew Sir George.

-Oh, yes, he was very nice, but dull.

-Yes.

-Oh, dull.

-I remember him grey. I do.

-Oh, dull. Anyway, not for her.

-No, no.

-So a third ring goes back into the pot.

And, oh, Lumley is in despair.

He was determined for Aunt Diana, your darling mother, to be titled.

-Oh, well.

-Imperative to have a title. "You can't marry a doctor.

"I'm sorry. You can't. No, you can't."

And the awful word coming in now is trade.

-Trade.

-Trade. Cardinal sin. "No, I'm sorry, he's trade."

-Blimey!

-Yes.

That...that obvious?

It was all right to be the King's physician.

-Or a surgeon, perhaps.

-Or a surgeon, perhaps,

but only to the Royals or somebody really important like that.

Just calling yourself Doctor simply wasn't good enough.

-I've never heard that before.

-No. "He's trade."

-Whoa, lordy.

Sorry. I'm sorry.

So this is '38.

Patricia, do you know anything before that though?

Well, yes...

Are you going to show me a surprise?

Yes. Well, this is really done by a cousin of ours.

But as we can see here, at the very bottom,

we've got Charles George Lumley Cater, our grandfather,

marrying Adeline Louisa Blois.

-Right.

-Right. Now where do we go?

Here she comes, and who has she come from?

Baronet, Baronet, Baronet, Baronet,

Baronet, Baronet, Baronet, Baronet...

and eventually we've got crowns and things, you see.

-They are grand, aren't they?

-Rather grand.

Do you know that this all for real? Cos obviously somebody's...

-As far as I know...

-..done it in hand.

-As far as I know.

-Must be.

The family talked quite, um, bluntly about my father,

and my grandfather referred to him as "trade"

when he was a perfectly fully-qualified doctor.

That was quite shocking, actually.

But anyway, my mother got her own way, so yahoo!

And then I had this marvellous family tree presented to me.

So I'd love to find out more about that.

And I do want to find a link for Angus's passion to politics.

Celia is on her way to the Parliamentary Archives,

where records for the House of Lords and the House of Commons are held,

to meet Professor Ronald Hutton.

She's hoping he can help her find out whether there are any

political links in the family tree she's been given.

I wondered, with my son's passion for politics,

whether I might be able to find out something.

What is your son's politics?

He's been out canvassing for the Labour Party.

Perfect. So what you're after is a red-hot political radical.

Parliament is the upper class at business.

So if you go back here,

you get through a couple of Dukes of Rutland, and then you hit gold.

Here you have William Lord Russell,

who's your great-grandfather times eight.

William Russell was born in 1639

and was the third son of the Earl of Bedford.

Russell became a Whig MP during the 1670s,

when English politics was in turmoil.

The political scene was divided between two great parties.

Their names are familiar to us even now. The Whigs and the Tories.

If you're a Whig, you believe that power comes from the people

rather than from the monarch.

The Tories believe that the King should be trusted rather than the people.

And the King on the throne... is this guy -

King Charles II.

He's personally responsible for a lot of the tension

in your ancestor's lifetime.

Because nobody, in the end, trusts him, he loves being devious.

He loves making people ill at ease.

-Oh, dear.

-That's how he feels powerful.

As King, Charles II had the power to rule as he saw fit.

But as a member of the Whig Party, Russell believed

the King's power should be limited by law and Parliament.

William must stand for the ultimate power of the people

to decide their own fate,

and that's the underlying principle of democracy

and popular politics in any age.

And it's the way in which we're going to go.

So in that sense,

he is a more modern man than some of the others around at the time.

In the 1670s, England was still suffering from the bitter divisions

that had caused the Civil War 20 years earlier.

A battle between Royalists and Parliamentarians,

it had resulted in the execution of Charles I,

and in England becoming a republic for a decade.

Charles II had been restored to the throne in 1660.

But after the violence of the Civil War,

he never trusted his people - and they never trusted him.

There's also something else going on and it concerns

the taint of Roman Catholicism.

Roman Catholicism is not just the wrong religion

to people like your ancestor, it's the wrong politics, and there is

no Catholic democracy on Earth in your ancestor's lifetime.

Every Catholic state is encouraged to be a despotism

ruled by its King or its Duke, whoever is the hereditary ruler.

And the only democracy left in the world is in the Protestant states.

Charles II was a Protestant, but he had no legitimate children,

and so the next in line to the throne was his brother,

James, who had converted to Catholicism.

By the end of the 1670s, trust in Charles

and his brother has eroded to the point at which the Whig Party,

of which your ancestor is one of the leaders, has decided

to get an Act of Parliament to stop the King's brother inheriting the throne.

-This has never been tried before.

-Blimey!

-You're going to plunge into crisis.

-OK.

-Straight away.

It's one of the biggest political crises of our political history.

You can actually read in the words of your own ancestor,

whose blood flows in your veins, what drove him.

-You want to go for it?

-Yeah, go for it.

"We must resolve when we have a Prince of the Popist religion

"to be Papists, or burn."

What he sincerely believes is any Catholic King is going to force you

to be Catholic as well or burn you alive at the stake.

Religion causes filthy behaviour.

Especially in this period.

"I have been long of opinion that nothing

"but excluding the Duke, etc, can secure us.

"I should be glad if anything else but this Bill would secure us

"from Popery, etc, but I know of nothing else that will,

"therefore I move for it."

-God, he means business, doesn't he?

-That is absolutely right.

He tries to push this Exclusion Bill through three times,

and what the King does each time is on this page - this is 1679.

"By the King.

"A Proclamation for dissolving this present Parliament

"and declaring the speedy calling of a new one."

Oh, Lord!

In this period, the King calls and dismisses Parliament at will.

So what does he do?

He just stops calling Parliament and puts the Tories in power.

William is just literally shut up now, isn't he?

Well, he can talk to the people, but that's pretty dangerous.

If you stir up a mob, you can be taken into prison for treason.

Er...let's look at the next document and see what actually does happen.

It's a pamphlet.

"True Account and Declaration of The Horrid Conspiracy against the King.

"The informants say that being in the company of Richard Goodenough,

"at the Sun Tavern behind the Royal Exchange

"upon the 15th day of June, 1683,

"the said Lord Russell told the aforesaid Goodenough,

"that he would be concerned in it to his utmost,

"and that he would use all his interest

"to accomplish the aforesaid design of killing the King."

-Blimey! "And the Duke of York."

-Yeah.

Can I just ask you - is this two people overhearing him

in a pub saying, "Oh, yes, I'd go and kill the King"?

That's exactly right.

He absolutely did say it and so they've reported it?

-Ah, we just don't know.

-Ah.

These were a couple of wide boys who've come forward

in order to provide evidence to destroy your ancestor.

This declaration, where would that appear? It's not a newspaper?

No. This is a state paper, but it's been published in a pamphlet

in order to convince the British public, right across the island,

that this was a real conspiracy to kill the King and his brother.

But he's going to get into real trouble for this, isn't he?

He certainly is.

Er, he's got to stand trial now, and if you want to know

what happens in the trial, you go to the State Trials.

William Lord Russell was supposed to have said, apparently,

that he wanted to kill the King.

Did he say it?

This is a reported conversation that took place in a tavern,

bit like the News Of The World nowadays.

I wonder what happens next.

Celia has come to the Honourable Society of Lincoln's Inn

to search through the State Trials for the 1680s.

The trial of Lord Russell, July 13th 1683.

She's meeting Professor Mark Knights.

-I've picked out some passages within the trial.

-Yeah.

Immediately to a rather crucial bit, um, which is the Indictment.

"The prisoner at the Bar..." God, "prisoner" he's called!

Mm. Yes, he'd been arrested.

"..with other traitors named in the Indictment,

"within the City of London, met and conspired together

"to bring our Sovereign Lord the King to death,

"to raise war and rebellion against him, and to massacre his subjects."

Help!

The accusation is that Russell was present

when some of those discussions about seizing the King were taking place.

But all the evidence that's produced against him is...is indeed hearsay.

I mean, here's quite a good example of that.

"You are sure my Lord Russell was there?"

And who's this Lord Howard?

Lord Howard is someone who was alleged to have been involved in the plotting,

who turns King's evidence in order to save his own skin.

So he's now giving evidence against Russell, his former friend

and very close ally, in order to save himself. Yes.

So... "Are you sure my Lord Russell was there?"

says the Attorney General.

Lord Howard - "Yes, Sir, I wish I could say he was not."

What a liar!

"What did my Lord say?"

Lord Howard - "Everyone knows my Lord Russell is a person

"of great judgment and not very lavish in discourse."

-Yes.

-So he didn't say anything. He was just quiet?

-He was just there.

-That means he must... Oh, dear.

So they're assuming quite a lot.

I find it amazing that there's a great big trial

about a piece of hearsay.

About, you know, sort of overheard remarks.

Although, of course, if you say, "I want the King to be dead,"

you're in high treason and I suppose, the punishment is death, is that right?

That's right. Indeed, he wasn't even sure of the charge against him

until he walks into...into court.

In this period, people defending themselves against treason

weren't even allowed legal defence.

So Russell was defending himself in court.

And the jury itself was a packed jury.

-Meaning what?

-Hand-picked men by the Government, um,

to do essentially the court's bidding.

-This is all tremendously quickly done.

-Mm.

Er, this is a couple of hours.

It all sounds to me rather, um, set up and...I smell lots of rats,

-I'm afraid.

-Yes. Russell is a very important public figure.

-Mm.

He's a man of great standing, this virtue and integrity,

which he's renowned for, carry a lot of sway.

So they're running quite a risk.

-He's not a coward.

-No.

He's a man of great moral, um, belief...

-Yes.

-..therefore, he's a terrific danger, it seems to me,

-and magnified if the Government then want to get him out the way.

-Yes.

He does seem to inspire, um, confidence.

He also inspires great love in his wife, Rachel.

Lady Rachel was the daughter of the Earl of Southampton.

At the time of the trial, she'd been married to William for 14 years

and they had three children.

She works tirelessly, um, on his behalf, um,

both at this time, at his trial, and then subsequently as well.

-So, double whammy of danger to the Government then?

-Yes.

-So, they're two together.

-And what's more, um, Russell knows that,

he knows that he's known for his love for his wife,

and he asks whether she can take notes about the trial.

-So, she sits...

-Clever man.

..right at the start of the trial, she says...

He says, "Is it OK for... for her to take notes?"

So, she's there for everyone in the court to see how close

-they are together.

-Very good!

Shall we see what the outcome is?

Yes, let's. 14th July, 1683.

The Attorney General again.

Attorney General - "My Lord Russell, Your Lordship has been indicted

"and tried and found guilty of high treason.

"That you be carried back again to the place from whence you came

"and from thence be drawn upon a hurdle...

"..to the place of execution..." Oh, Lord!

"..where you shall be hanged by the neck, but cut down alive...

"..your entrails and privy members cut off from your body

"and burnt in your sight." Oh, Lord!

"Your head be severed from your body and your body divided into four parts

"and disposed at the King's pleasure."

Oh, dear! This is really awful, isn't it?

-Mm. It's a gruesome sentence.

-No coming back.

That's... But, I mean, is that the usual?

Is that something that would be read out

for anybody who does high treason

or is that a particularly horrible one? I mean, God!

For a man of Russell's status, um, it was unusual,

-it's a degradation of a...

-Yes.

-..of a very noble man.

I mean, for him to have his...himself cut off all over the place

and then have to look at it.

Yes. This is a propaganda trial essentially.

The punishment is a signal that the Government wants to give,

that anybody plotting or planning to plot against the regime

had better watch out, because this would be the result.

And he's a very noticeable figure to do it to.

-Exactly.

-And a well-loved one.

Yes. How better to make your point?

I so hope you're going to say that something happened in the end

and somebody came and saved him.

Well, for the next bit of the story,

-we need to go just across the way into Lincoln's Inn Fields.

-Let's.

It seems so violent, this sentence,

that I just can't believe that...

Did he have anybody else appealing for him?

His wife is very active, pulling strings.

His father was a wealthy man and his father raises money

in an attempt to try and buy his son's freedom -

that doesn't work.

-This plaque tells its own story.

-Oh, my goodness!

"Near this spot was beheaded William Lord Russell,

"a lover of constitutional liberty."

So, the sentence was commuted, as you can see, to a beheading

rather than the hanging, drawing and quartering

that we looked at in the trial. And this was the concession.

What? That he could have his head chopped off instead of having it all shoved in his mouth!

Oh, dear.

This is a printed pamphlet which sets out the events of that day,

um, and it includes a speech

that was made by Russell, um,

to the crowd that's assembled here.

"I was never fond of much speaking, much less now.

"In the words of a dying man, I profess I know of no plot,

"either against the King's life or the Government.

"But I have now done with this world and I'm going to a better.

"I forgive all the world heartily,

"and I thank God I die in charity with all men."

Oh, dear, this is awful.

"And I wish all sincere Protestants may love one another

"and not make way for Popery by their animosities.

"I pray God forgive them, and continue the Protestant religion

"amongst them, that it may flourish so long as the sun and moon endures.

"I am now more satisfied to die than ever I have been."

-Oh, dear.

-I'm sorry.

I never even knew him, but I just think it's so awful.

Yes.

-If you want to know more about the rest of Russell's story...

-I do.

..and perhaps the legacy of this lover of constitutional liberty...

Wouldn't he be happy, though, to have that under his name?

I think he would, he would be, er, happy with that...

To have that as the memory.

But there's much more that you could find out about the legacy of...

-of Russell at the family seat, which is Woburn Abbey.

-Oh!

I'm very proud that in my genes is someone of such courage

and conviction.

The speech that my eight times great-grandfather made

just before he died quite floored me

that somebody should have such courage at that moment.

And also the plaque that was written underneath his name,

"William Lord Russell, lover of constitutional liberty."

Somebody wrote that - somebody thought that that's how

he would be remembered for ever.

And I just want to find out what happened after he died.

I hope he didn't die for nothing.

Celia has come to Woburn Abbey to meet historian Dr Ted Vallance.

The rooms that we're walking through now are ones

that date from the 17th century, so he walked through...

-As a child.

-..these rooms. Yeah.

What a place to grow up in.

Don't know if you can see here, this painting we've got...

-Oh, the trial!

-Yeah.

It is rather a wonderful painting for such an obviously grim moment.

Yes. Yes.

These two people here are presumably

-the informants from the Sun Tavern, would they be?

-Yes.

Oh, they look horrible pigs.

Yeah. Yeah.

-I love Rachel's adoring face.

-Yes.

And he's sort of quite noble and calm

-considering what he must be going through.

-Yeah.

-It's impossible really to imagine, isn't it?

-Mm.

We've actually got some more paintings in this room through here

-that you might want to look at which...

-Yes, please.

-..really carry the narrative on.

If you have a look round here, we've got...

-Oh, that's him, isn't it?

-Yes.

And over here, um, we've got this image of Russell in his cell,

with Rachel and the children.

I don't know whether he would have approved having a tear on his cheek.

That makes him out to be all weak and weedy and he simply wasn't.

You're right. I think he would not have liked

such an emotional representation of himself.

Actually, we've got another example of his courage.

So, I have a letter here, actually in William Russell's hand,

that he delivered to the Sheriff before his execution.

And he's producing this to really try and clear his own name,

to establish his... his kind of legacy.

"I thank God I find myself so composed and prepared for death.

"I cheerfully submit to so small a punishment as the being taken off a few years sooner,

"and the being made a spectacle to the world.

"I do freely forgive all the world,

"particularly those concerned in taking away my life

"and I desire and conjure my friends to think of no revenge."

-See, I couldn't be so forgiving.

-Mm.

That's, I mean, that's almost sort of Christ-like to say,

"Forgive them, they know not what they do," sort of thing, isn't it?

Yes. He is consciously giving himself up for a form of martyrdom.

Mm. Did he want it to be shown around?

Yes. This whole letter wasn't just circulated in manuscript form,

it was printed, um,

and as many as perhaps 25,000 copies of this letter was circulated.

It does help establish this legacy

and this reputation as a defender of constitutional liberty.

In 1685, two years after Russell's execution,

the Whigs' fears of a Catholic monarchy came true.

Following the death of Charles II, his brother James II became King

and tried to bring in a Parliament that would do his bidding.

Spurred into action, seven notable Englishmen invited

a Protestant Dutch Prince, William of Orange, to overthrow James.

In November, 1688, William marched on London, driving James into exile.

In what became known as the Glorious Revolution,

William of Orange was crowned King of England, Scotland and Ireland.

Constitutional liberty is at the heart of the Glorious Revolution.

One of the first things that William does on coming to the throne

is pass the Bill of Rights, which guarantees certain rights

and freedoms to the English people.

As part of the Bill of Rights, King William outlawed absolute monarchy

and banned Catholics from the throne -

a law that stands to this day.

He also paid tribute to William Russell.

Now, this is a very important document.

You can touch it, but we can't unroll it.

-Right.

-So, this is a pardon, quashing William Russell's

conviction for treason, and you can see attached to it is

actually the King's seal, the seal of William of Orange as well.

-Oh, right. Can I touch it?

-Yeah, you can touch it.

I have got a copy here of what it looks like, um, when unrolled.

"All records and proceedings related to the said Attainder be

"wholly cancelled and taken off the file or otherwise defaced

"and obliterated to the intent the same may not visible in after ages."

How final.

-He was even smarter than I thought.

-Mm.

Because once his fate was sealed...

..he must have been able to see

he could have a more lasting effect than if he hadn't died.

Yes. Absolutely.

The Glorious Revolution is a real turning point in English history.

It's the moment where, you know,

we move from the possibility of absolute monarchy to

constitutional monarchy with certain rights and freedoms defended in law.

And what this pardon does is acknowledge William Russell's

part in that, that his sacrifice is part of the story leading up

to that turning point, this turning point that really establishes

a lot of the constitutional freedoms that we enjoy today.

My eight times great-grandfather has moved things on.

That's really something I wished for when I realised I had these

rather well-to-do ancestors, that they, please God, they did

something with their life and didn't just sit around, and boy, he did!

Well, resisting authority is a Russell family trait.

And, in fact, William Russell seems to have inherited this trait

from his grandmother, Frances Howard, who I think

you should also take a look at as a very interesting character.

Celia's back in London to meet Professor Jackie Eales.

-Good morning, Professor.

-Hello, Celia, I'm Jackie...

She wants to find out

what it was that Frances did to resist authority.

I know Frances Howard went against the establishment,

so she's my kind of girl.

And I want to find out about her.

-Have you seen a picture of her yet?

-No.

Well, I've got one here. There she is.

Oh, I say, I rather like her.

-She was born in 1593.

-Mm.

She was a member of an aristocratic family.

Her father was the Earl of Suffolk, so it's a family that's got

a very high position at Court under James I.

And, in 1606, they arrange a marriage for her to the young

Earl of Essex, a man called Robert Devereux.

We found out a bit more about the marriage here.

This is a book that was published a little bit later, in the 1650s.

"The Earl of Essex was 14 years of age..." Oh!

"..and she 13..." Oh, dear!

"..when they married, too young to consider,

"but old enough to consent."

Ooh! How mean, actually.

Um... "Yet by the advice of friends, separated after marriage,

"she under her mother's wing, and he visiting France."

-14 and 13!

-Yes.

I mean, we tend to think of Romeo and Juliet

and think this is normal - but it isn't.

And the average age for first marriage amongst aristocrats

was 20 to 24. It's very much a political manoeuvre.

It's a way of cementing relationships

between the two families.

Dear, dear.

At the time of Frances's marriage, the King of England was James I,

who ruled with almost unrestricted power.

Courtiers vied for the King's favour

in a bid to stay inside this circle of influence.

Although the Howard family were already high up at Court,

they knew that by marrying their daughter to Essex,

the King's current favourite,

they would strengthen their position further.

And did she like him?

Well, that's a good question. We need to find out a bit more.

We see them again over here,

this is a letter that Frances wrote round about 1611.

She's about 18, it's about five years into the marriage.

And it's to her friend.

"You must send me some good fortune.

"Alas, I have need of it.

"Keep the Lord still to me, for that I desire.

"My Lord is lusty and merry and drinketh with his men and all the content he gives me

"is to abuse me and to use me as doggedly as before.

"Remember, I beg for God's sake, and get me from this vile place."

Oh Lord! "Give Turner warning of all things."

Poor darling. What a horrible time she's having.

Well, she's not happy, is she?

She says the house is "this vile place".

Her husband is abusing her, uses her "doggedly".

I wonder what that means, sounds very rude.

Well, I'm not sure it's got the same meaning as it does now.

No, probably not, but anyway.

Now she says, "Give Turner warning of all things."

Who's Turner?

Well, Turner is a woman called Ann Turner,

she's the widow of another Court physician, fashionable doctor,

but the two women have become very close and Ann Turner is

really Frances' main confidant at this stage in the proceedings.

Well, I'm glad she's got a friend.

Sounds utterly grim, doesn't it?

She mentions somebody else, doesn't she?

"Keep the Lord still to me, for that I desire."

That's not her husband though, surely?

-That must be somebody else she rather likes?

-Yes.

I mean, she's saying keep the Lord mine

because that's what I want, and we know...

-And who's that?

-This is a man called Robert Carr.

I've got a portrait of him here for you to have a look at.

So that's the man in question.

Oh, much more of a sparkle, hasn't he?

-A bit like Errol Flynn, isn't he?

-Mm-mm.

So he's quite good looking. He's a rising star at Court.

He's becoming, very rapidly, the King's favourite,

and he's making quite an impression.

A lot of the Court ladies are smitten with him, and so is Frances.

Is he showing any sign to her?

Does he like her or is it a fantasy?

Well, at this stage, we don't really know

if anything's happening between them.

-It's a bit too early to tell.

-Mm.

But there are rumours going around that something is going on.

Reputation is everything for women in this period so losing your reputation is...

-potential disaster.

-And what on earth would her husband have said?

Well, it makes him a cuckold, so

for him, it's very damaging indeed. It's very embarrassing.

Frances is getting into a risky situation because she's caught

between two very powerful men at court.

Her husband and the rising young favourite as well.

She's defying her parents, her father, her mother, her brother

Also her husband.

This is a patriarchal society in which women are meant to be

submissive to the men in the family and she's going against that.

And these are all very important courtiers with reputations at stake in court.

-So they're very concerned.

-I rather love her spirit.

But I fear she's going to get into terrible trouble.

Well, we've got another letter that she wrote,

and this is actually to Ann Turner.

"Burn this letter,

"sweet Turner, I am out of all hope of any good in this world,

"for I am not able to endure the miseries that are coming on me.

"But I cannot be happy so long as this man liveth.

"If I can get this done, you shall have as much money as you can demand.

"This is fair play. Your sister, Frances Essex."

Oh, dear! What's she asking her to do?

Well, you could read that letter as if she's asking somebody to...

-Bump him off.

-Exactly.

She is bonkers to think she's going to get away with it, isn't she?

Well, the bottom line is that she's going to do things her own way,

that she's defying everybody.

My ten times great-grandmother was in the most ghastly marriage

and I realise that they, you know, weren't able to escape, like I would have done -

I would never have got married in the first place -

but I'm very worried for her,

but I fear that she's not playing about.

But I also think she's an innocent and is going to get herself

into terrible trouble and I must find out the next bit.

Celia's on her way to find out whether Frances did try to

murder her husband in a bid to escape from her unhappy marriage.

But she's been asked to meet the historian at Lambeth Palace,

home of the Archbishops of Canterbury for more than 800 years.

It is most intriguing, because I thought Lady Frances Howard

was trying to bump off her husband that she was married to and trapped.

Um, so what on earth has the Archbishop of Canterbury got to do with it?

She's meeting Dr Laura Gowing.

Hello. Now, you know all about my great-grandmother, I'm guessing.

You've come to a Great Hall at Lambeth Palace

because all marriage is under the jurisdiction of the Church of England.

The reason it comes to the Archbishop of Canterbury is

because of the high level of the status of this particular couple.

This document here records what happened next

in the Howard marriage.

"Libel laid down by the Lady Frances Howard against the Earl of Essex.

"The said Earl of Essex did not carnally know the said Lady Frances.

"Neither was able to know her nor had any way

"carnal copulation with her,

"nor was strength to have it."

That's a bit explicit for a State paper, isn't it?

To be talking about this sort of thing...

It is, but the State needs to know

whether this marriage can be consummated.

She's prosecuting her husband on the grounds of impotence.

She's requesting an annulment.

If she succeeds in this plea, she will be able to remarry.

She needs to have an heir. I mean, that's her coin...

-Yes.

-..is to produce an heir

and to send her family further on into the future.

-This isn't at all what I expected was going to happen.

-No.

I'd better get to the end.

"The said Earl of Essex had and hath power and ability

"to have carnal copulation with other women."

Is he saying this? I can't... This is unbelievable stuff.

-I can't believe...

-He doesn't want to admit that...

That he can't do it.

..he can't have copulation with anybody.

No, I don't suppose any man would, would they?

He suggests that the fault is in her and not in him.

So, Frances was examined by about ten midwives and matrons.

She's trying to prove both that she's a virgin

-and that she is capable of intercourse.

-Mm.

And how you get a team of matrons and midwives

to prove that is very tricky.

They decided eventually that she was a virgin and that she was capable.

-How degrading and awful for her.

-Mm.

Especially to have so many of them at her.

Um, but surely in...to be fair,

he should have to go through something of the sort?

-Don't tell me he got off scot-free?

-He doesn't have to formally,

but the Archbishop of Canterbury lets it be known that

a friend of his said to him that the Earl of Essex had come into his room

and showed a group of his friends the sufficiency of his matter.

-Oh, please!

-They'd all said the ladies of Court would trample

Frances Howard if they knew the truth of it.

So, clearly that's all he has to do.

Just go into somebody else's room and just say, "Here we are, boys."

How awful! That's terrible.

Mm, mm.

What Frances is essentially doing here is setting herself,

her plea, up against the whole institution of marriage.

It is going to mobilise a lot of forces against her.

One of her harshest critics was a man named Thomas Overbury.

Sir Thomas Overbury was a courtier in the Court of King James I.

A close friend of Robert Carr's,

he'd worked hard to engineer the charming young Scot's

rise from obscurity to the King's new favourite.

In doing so, Overbury secured himself

a position of influence at Court.

But when he discovered that Carr intended to marry

Frances Howard, Overbury realised his position was in jeopardy.

Overbury does not like the idea

because it is going to shove him out in terms of Court interests.

Because then Carr is no longer going to be under Overbury's control,

he's going to shift into the sphere of the Howards.

And we can see the interest of a King, as well,

also moving in that direction towards the Howards.

So this is... Overbury is ending up increasingly scarily marginalised.

In order to secure his own interests,

Overbury began to publicly malign Frances Howard,

trying to destroy her relationship with Carr.

Fearing Overbury could derail the politically advantageous marriage,

the powerful Howard family wanted him sidelined.

Somehow in that year, Overbury gets offered an Ambassadorship,

which he doesn't want. He turns it down.

To turn down an Ambassadorship is potentially a treasonous act,

so he ends up in the Tower of London for treason.

Where's Lord Carr in all this? I thought he was his friend?

Not so interested.

Now, I'm realising that friend is...there is no such thing.

-It's all politics.

-Yes.

On the 15th September, 1613, just as the annulment case is reaching

its conclusion, something very strange happens to Thomas Overbury.

On this document here, which is a letter from the newsmonger

and letter writer, John Chamberlain, we hear what happened.

"Sir Thomas Overbury died and is buried in the Tower.

"The manner of his death is not known,

"but the foulness of the corpse gave suspicion

"and leaves aspersion that he should die of the pox or somewhat worse."

Do they think somebody's murdered him, then?

It sounds slightly suspicious of that, but only very slightly.

He just dies, nobody pities him, his friends speak indifferently of him.

Ten days after his death, the annulment reaches a conclusion

and is granted.

Three months later, Howard and Carr marry on the 26th December, 1613.

And everything in the garden's lovely, but...

I can't believe... Did anybody worry and wonder about Overbury?

It took two years for any word to filter through.

But in 1615, the King hears a rumour

that all was not as it should have been with the death of Overbuy.

And he is pushed in the direction of investigating it. And so...

Ah, by who, though?

Cos you say the King himself maybe not...

-It's not clear.

-So, someone else?

It's various interests. Yes.

This is a letter from Gervais Helwys, who was

a Lieutenant of the Tower of London at the time that Overbury died.

"His physician was his overthrow, and that which wrought it was

"a glyster." Glyster, I'm not sure what that is?

A glyster is an enema. Somebody has introduced some poison into the glyster.

"The apothecary had a servant who was corrupted." Oooh.

"Who corrupted the servant, I can give Your Majesty no account,

"neither can I directly say that he ever named

"any as an actor in this business, but only..." Whoa!

Mrs Turner.

-Have you met Mrs Turner before?

-Yes, in the letter Frances sent.

She's still very much on the scene.

This is the best drama I've come across for yonks.

This is going to be a big trial if it comes out.

So if you want to pursue this further,

-you need to look in the State Trials.

-I do.

My ten times great-grandmother, Lady Frances Howard,

is taking me on a complete roller-coaster of surprises.

Her friend, Mrs Turner, is now implicated in some wrongdoing,

i.e, murder. Is Lady Frances involved? I've got to find out.

When Frances married her second husband, Robert Carr,

they became the Earl and Countess of Somerset.

They'd been happily married for almost two years

when they were arrested and forced to stand trial

as co-conspirators in the poisoning of Thomas Overbury.

Celia has come to meet Professor David Lindley to see how the case unfolded.

Hello, David. You're going to show me the next bit.

I think that's the general idea. So we'll go in here.

Thank you.

I'd love to know who suddenly starts the investigation two years later.

Well, we're not exactly sure, but it seems to have been Ralph Winwood,

who was the Secretary of State and an enemy of Robert Carr's.

-Well, it's a marvellous weapon, isn't it?

-Mm-hm. It is.

If we he wants to bring them down, obviously.

Yes, and it was a propitious time to do so.

Robert Carr was on the way down in the King's favour,

or so it seemed, so a propitious time perhaps for Ralph Winwood

-to get his revenge on his political enemies.

-Mm.

Robert Carr was sent off to the Tower...

-Mm-hm.

-..but Frances wasn't.

She was put under house arrest at a nobleman's house in Blackfriars.

And perhaps the reason for it we can see in this letter,

which you might like to have a look at.

So, "November 26th, 1615,

"His Majesty hath commanded you to take careful order that such women

"be placed about the Countess of Somerset,

"who will be answerable that at her delivery she do not miscarry."

At her delivery. She's pregnant.

Oh, God!

And she's about to give birth to your nine times great-grandmother.

Ah, I didn't get that at all.

What Winwood is worried about is that she will miscarry or

that, in some way, she'll be prevented from...

Yes.

..being investigated further about the murder of Overbury.

-But they don't trust her an inch, do they? My goodness.

-Absolutely not.

They really fear that she's going to somehow slip the net.

Do you know how pregnant she would be at this point then?

-Um, about eight months.

-Oh, I see. Right.

Because on the 9th December, 1615, Ann,

your nine times great-grandmother, and the mother of

William Lord Russell, was born while her mother was under house arrest.

Oh, dear.

Gosh.

And then, in March, Frances herself is sent to the Tower.

They come to fetch her and apparently, with very little notice,

so that she only has time to shed a few tears over her baby,

before she's separated from Ann and taken off to the Tower.

It's quite cruel, isn't it?

I think the separation from her daughter can't but have been...

-Horrible.

-..very unpleasant, to put it mildly.

But what we're getting is this huge build-up of anticipation

towards Frances's trial,

and people were paying huge money to get tickets to attend the trial.

And perhaps we can see what happened because here we are.

"The Countess of Somerset, all the while the indictment was reading,

"stood looking pale, trembled and shed some few tears.

"What sayeth thou? Art thou guilty to this felony and murder?

"Or not guilty?

"The Lady Somerset answered, 'Guilty,' with a low voice,

"but wonderful fearful."

-Oh, dear.

-She pleaded guilty,

but she had throughout insisted that her husband played no part in it.

She tried to, as it were, keep the blame, as it were,

entirely to herself, which was a bit annoying to the powers that be,

since, probably, Robert Carr was the real target they were aiming at.

The thing is, David, I'm finding through this whole story, that

it's so like a drama that I find it terribly exciting and thrilling.

But actually, the truth is, she's very, very young,

she's only just had her first baby, which is quite an emotional,

well, a hugely emotional thing.

Worse, the baby's been ripped away from her.

She herself is only about 20, her baby's only five months old.

She's an enormously vulnerable person at this moment.

It's not surprising that she is "wonderful fearful"

at the charge that's levelled against her,

-particularly bearing in mind the likely implications.

-Mm.

And here we might just read the sentence.

"The Lord Highest Steward says - Frances,

"Countess of Somerset, it is now my part to pronounce

"judgment that thou shalt be carried from hence to the Tower of London

"and from thence to the place of execution where you are to be

"hanged by the neck till you be dead, and Lord have mercy upon your soul."

Oh, dear.

And the following day, the same sentence is passed on her husband.

So, they go back to the Tower...

-Together.

-..both condemned to death.

Oh, dear.

And so...we'd better go to the Tower to see what happened next.

Oh, dear. OK.

The awful thing is that, at the beginning of this whole story,

I said... Well, I'm fascinated by criminals, you see,

and I wondered whether there were any criminals in my family tree.

-Uh-oh!

-Well, and here you've got two.

It's awfully sad, though. Well, murderers, as well.

I am extremely proud to be related to this rather wonderful woman, um,

because let's say the Earl of Essex was impotent and all she wanted was

to have a baby, then the marriage that I always imagine, the whole act

of marriage being a trap, she really was trapped, aged 13, let's say.

This terrible sort of loveless life she was going to have, but she

didn't sit down and do what...play by the rules, she absolutely didn't.

She stood up and was publicly humiliated, um, but made a stand

and now she's on her way to the Tower.

-Raven behind us.

-Yes.

-That's rather marvellous.

The Raven himself, his horse.

Here we are in the space that both Robert

and Frances were waiting essentially for execution.

But then, I've got something to show you...

-OK.

-..for the next... Perhaps go over here

and perhaps you'd like to look at this document here.

This is a letter from John Chamberlain, who was a news gatherer of the period.

So July 20th, 1616, "The lady's pardon was signed the other week.

"The special reasons and inducements for it were for the great

"and long services of her father, family and friends,

"her own penitence and voluntary confession."

Does this mean she got off?

Yes. The pardon was signed.

But for her husband, Robert Carr,

wasn't pardoned formally for another, um, seven or eight years.

-Oh, dear.

-But they lived here, in the Tower, for six years.

-In this room?

-In, well, rooms in this...

And what happened to the baby?

Probably being looked after by her sister.

They are finally released in 1622 when Frances would be about 30.

-She's been through hell.

-Mm-hm.

Um, now that they're out, is it all all right or not?

There is some evidence that it wasn't.

Well, I can hardly be surprised, actually.

That Robert blamed Frances for, in essence, ruining his career.

So how awful, aged 13 or whatever it is, she got into

this loveless marriage with the Earl of Essex, now she's 30,

and her life's been one big struggle really for, you know, to...

I mean, she had two years of bliss, and then...

-this is like eight years of hell.

-Yes.

And now she comes out and they hate each other.

It must have been difficult, certainly.

-But...but they stuck together, they didn't separate.

-Mm.

Because Frances actually died

only ten years after they were released

and, in here, there's an account of her death.

"She died before him. Her death was infamous.

"The loathsomeness of her death made it as conspicuous

"as on the house top.

"For that part of her body which had been the receptacle of most

"of her sin, grown rotten, pardon the sharpness of these expressions

"for they are for the glory of God who often makes His punishments

"in the balance of His justice of equal weight with our sins."

Oh, dear. Who's writing this?

This is Arthur Wilson, who was a historian of the period, and what

he's really doing is immortalising Frances as the female transgressive.

Now she died of breast cancer and uterine cancer,

and yet he represents this as the punishment for her sin.

Well, who's he to say?! Dear Lord!

-Hasn't she been through enough?!

-Mm-hm.

The Earl of Essex, her former husband, knew this historian.

Is that terrible payback going on somewhere, do you think?

Sounds like it, doesn't it?

What upsets me is, can you imagine if a man had died of the pox, say?

-I bet the description wouldn't be so loathsome.

-Mm-hm.

And to have such a judgment put on them.

What it tells us is this is how Frances Howard has been

-essentially seen from that day to this.

-To this.

I think this wild weather

and this wild place to be is perfect for my ancestors.

I'm so proud to be related to such fantastically brave, loyal,

noble people.

They could have shut up and said nothing,

but they all spoke out and were courageous, especially Lady Frances.

I'm so proud that I'm not related to wishy-washy people,

drinking tea all over the place. Quite the reverse.