I call upon a history heroine

The castle-crazed Lady Anne Clifford

Last week we went to the Yorkshire Dales, which was all very wholesome.

We climbed up the mountain called Ingleborough in the mist.

That was a particularly wholesomely damp experience.

At the top we met a spry old boy, who proudly told us that he was ‘eighty, you know.’

We didn’t like to hurt his feelings by telling him that one of our party was 86.

While we were in the north, I also paid a long-awaited visit to a history heroine of mine.

When I was writing my PhD thesis on William Cavendish (1593-1676), who built Bolsover Castle in Derbyshire, a comparable patron of architecture whose name came up again and again was Lady Anne Clifford (1590-1676).

Both of them were enthusiastic builders of castles. I’d read a lot about Lady Anne’s, but until now I’d never made time to visit them.

As well as for her northern castles, Lady Anne was famous for her obstinacy.

Her father when he died left his lands to a male relative. But Lady Anne wasn’t standing for that.

Supported by her mother, she embarked upon a court case against the male cousin who’d inherited the lands, to get what she thought was hers. Even the king got involved in trying to sort it out.

‘She would not,’ she told James I to his face, ‘part with Westmorland upon any consideration whatsoever.’

Meanwhile the years went by. Anne married, and moved down south, but didn’t like it much there. Knole House, she said, home of her first wretched, womanising husband the Earl of Dorset, was to her ‘the gay arbour of anguish.’

Still her court case was going on.

The Earl of Dorset died, she married the Earl of Pembroke.

Still her court case was going on.

Eventually, in 1643, the cousin who’d disinherited Lady Anne just died.

Now Lady Anne – as everyone called her, despite her husbands’ titles – came into her own. She got her castles at last.

They were the castles of Skipton, Brougham, Brough, Pendragon and, above all, Appleby. Isn’t it magnificent? She restored that Norman keep.

She defied Oliver Cromwell to rebuild and improve her castles, also building almshouses, and memorials to her family.

If you like the sound of Lady Anne, you could actually live in her best castle – because part of Appleby Castle’s for sale at the moment!

I was really very tempted.

She’s buried at Appleby church, where her magnificent marble memorial stresses her connection with the ancient relations from whom she insisted she’d legally inherited Westmorland. Next to it is an even more marvellous sculpture of her loving mother.

Lady Anne describes her own physical appearance:

‘The colour of mine eyes was black … the hair of mine head was brown and thick and so long that it reached the calf of my legs … an exquisite shape of body resembling my father.’

And here she is, describing her character:

‘I had a strong and copious memory, a sound judgement and a discerning spirit, and so much of a strong imagination in me as that many times even my dreams before hand proved to be true … I was much beloved by that Renowned Queen Elizabeth, who died when I was about thirteen years old.’

What a woman!

Lady Anne knew a lot about everything, and could talk on any topic from ‘predestination to slea silk.’

She actually rather liked clothes, and spent money on them too, although she had a habit for wearing formidable black.

The only reason I’m a little hesitant about saying I’d like to have met her is my feeling that she was probably a bit frightening.

What do you think?

Would you like to have tea with Lady Anne – and are you thinking of buying her castle?

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What to meet another of my history heroines? Try this piece, which is called ‘Please don’t call her Bloody Mary.’ And did you enjoy the live history video chat with Daisy Goodwin? Who should I invite to join us next time?!