for the court to hear her screams of agony or witness her dishevelment: these were for the eyes of her women only. Now all Elizabeth need do was rest and wait.
As the queen’s labour began, her gossips would have gathered round to follow certain folkloric rituals. It was customary for mothers to remove all fastenings: rings, buckles, bracelets and laces were thought to mimic a state of strangulation in the body which could be transmitted to the child. Likewise, no one in the chamber would cross their legs, arms or fingers. The labouring woman’s abdomen might be rubbed with creams made from a mixture of brandy, distilled marjoram and saffron to aid contractions. Tied around her belly, magic girdles and pieces of paper inscribed with ‘charms’ offered protection and belts hung with cowrie shells were thought to bring good luck through their resemblance to, and therefore sympathy with, the vulva. In her hand, a mother might clasp an ‘eagle stone’ or aetites , a larger stone which contained a smaller stone within its hollow centre, rattling when shaken: according to medieval theories, nature left ‘signatures’ to imply use, by which these were a natural echo of her condition and could alleviate pain and prevent miscarriage. Eagle stones were worn on the arm during pregnancy and transferred to the abdomen when labour began; a variant was St Hildegard of Bingen’s twelfth-century remedy of holding a jasper stone during birth. Agnus Dei were also popular religious tokens, for those who could get hold of them; they were wax discs stamped with the image of a lamb and flag, blessed by the Pope and supposedly offering protection from sudden death and the malice of demons. In some places, the skin of a wild ox was tied about a woman’s thigh and snakeskin or hartskin belts were worn, the placebo effects of which can only be imagined, in the absence of modern forms of pain relief. Herbs and flowers were used to help lessen the intensity of contractions, including the oils of lilies, almonds and roses, cyclamen, columbine, aquilegia, wild thyme and musk: some must have really helped, such as meadowsweet, which would later be synthesized and called aspirin. Other potions included the more bizarre ants’ eggs, powdered eel liver, virgin’s hair, ale and red cow’s milk. Although it is unlikely Elizabeth’s labour was aided by all of these, she would have had access to the most expensive and rare ingredients. Enemas were also given to aid dilation and sometimes ‘subfumigation’ was used, by channelling herbal vapours into the wombs; women were also given special powders to make them sneeze, as this was thought to help expel the child. Even though some of these sound extreme to the modern reader and may even have given the Tudor woman cause to smile, childbirth could prove a deadly and dangerous event: for a nation heavily steeped in superstition, there was some correlation between these practices and the odds of survival.
Religious comforts were also available to a Catholic queen. From pre-conception devotions and pilgrimages, through all stages of pregnancy and parturition, there were appropriate prayers and saints to petition for intercession. The Church clearly distinguished between the times when a woman was expected to attend church and when to stay away; from maternal repentance as the child quickened, to Mass before labour, baptism by the godparents and, finally, churching. Elizabeth would have taken communion before entering her chamber, its blessing extending to her unborn child in the eventuality of tragedy. Birth was the most significant and dangerous of all rites of passage, when a woman was susceptible to malign influences as she languished in spiritual limbo, so direct access to the fortifications of faith was essential. Reading the Gospels during the delivery was one well-practised method of ensuring all went smoothly; prayer books and books of hours would have also been used to pass the hours of waiting.
Savannah Stuart, Katie Reus