No. 86.
SIR RICHARD GRESHAM.Dark coat. Yellow sleeves. Black cap. Chain.
SIR RICHARD GRESHAM.Dark coat. Yellow sleeves. Black cap. Chain.
SIR RICHARD GRESHAM.
Dark coat. Yellow sleeves. Black cap. Chain.
THE Greshams took their name from a town so called in the county of Norfolk. Richard was the second son of John Gresham of Holt, in the same county, by Alice Blyth of Stratton, who brought her husband a large fortune. He was bred a mercer in London, where he was most successful in trade, and was appointed royal agent, or ‘King’s merchant,’ as it was called, a trust of great importance and profit, which consisted in transacting the trading interests of the Crown in foreign countries. This Richard Gresham conducted for HenryVIII.and EdwardVI.He amassed great riches, bought estates in several counties, was knighted in 1531, and elected Lord Mayor of London in 1537. He enjoyed much esteem and consideration in the city, and first conceived the idea of building the Royal Exchange, (which his son carried out,) beside many reformations and improvements for the benefit of the commercial community.
The merchants had suffered much inconvenience from being exposed to the weather in Lombard Street, when they met for the transaction of business.
Richard Gresham married, first, Audrey, daughter of William Linn of Southwick, county North Hants, by whom he had two sons—the second was Sir Thomas, usually called the founder, and at all events the builder, of the Royal Exchange,—and two daughters, Christian, or, as some call her, Margaret, who married Sir John Thynne, the builder of Longleat, to whom she brought a large dower as co-heir with her brothers, and Elizabeth, who died unmarried. Audrey died in 1522, and Sir Richard married again a widow named Taverson.
No. 87.
ARABELLA STUART.By Van Somers.BORN 1575, DIED 1615.
ARABELLA STUART.By Van Somers.BORN 1575, DIED 1615.
ARABELLA STUART.
By Van Somers.
BORN 1575, DIED 1615.
Full length. Dark gown, richly embroidered in flowers of gold. Ruff. Jewel. Cord of pearl across the shoulder and round the waist. One hand resting on a table.
MARGARET Tudor, it will be remembered, (HenryVIII.’s sister,) married twice, first JamesIV., King of Scotland, and secondly, Archibald Douglas, Earl of Angus. From this double marriage issued two branches, both Stuarts, the elder of which, on the death of Elizabeth, succeeded to the Throne, in the person of JamesI., the younger remaining heirs-expectant in case James had no children. To this branch belonged the Lady Arabella, and the jealousy shown by the elder to the younger is the key to her melancholy history. By her second husband, Margaret Tudor had a daughter, who bore her name; Lady Margaret Douglas was remarkable even in early life for her ambitious and intriguing spirit; according to modern parlance, she was always in hot water, and in the constant habit of paying compulsory visits to the Tower of London. Having secretly betrothed herself to Lord Thomas Howard, son of the first Duke of Norfolk of that name, they were both imprisoned on that account, and both fell ill of fever. Howard died, but his betrothed was set at liberty. A short time elapsed when she espoused Matthew Stuart, Earl of Lennox, this time with the concurrence of the Court, and by him she had several children, of whom only two sons grew up to manhood, the unfortunate Darnley, and Charles, who succeeded his father in the earldomof Lennox. On the marriage of her eldest son with Mary Queen of Scots Margaret was again imprisoned. Her husband’s estates had already been confiscated on a charge of treason; by the time she was released Lord Lennox was dead, and she went to reside with her son Charles, to whom King James had granted his father’s titles (as also to his heirs without restriction), at her dwelling-house in Hackney. Here they remained till Charles was about nineteen, when his mother thought it high time to provide him with a wife. So in October 1574 the mother and son mounted their horses, and took their way towards Scotland, but they were waylaid and intercepted, by a sumptuous welcome. Bess of Hardwicke, (there are few who do not know how to apply that nickname,) then Countess of Shrewsbury, heard of the travellers being in the neighbourhood, and it suited her to receive them as her guests.
A word to enlighten, or remind, respecting this remarkable woman:—
Elizabeth, daughter of John Hardwicke of Hardwicke Hall, in Derbyshire, was beautiful, vivacious, practical, and headstrong. At fourteen she married Mr. Barlow, a rich country gentleman, who soon left her a widow. She espoused secondly, Sir William Cavendish; thirdly, Sir William Saintlow, and fourthly, George Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury.
Each husband brought her money, and most of them children and step-children. Bess was as fond of marrying (herself) and giving in marriage as she was of building; and so, as we said before, she waylaid the equestrians, and invited them to one of her numerous homes—Rufford House, county Notts. Her husband, Lord Shrewsbury, gives an amusing account of what took place during the visit:—
‘The Lady Lennox being sickly, rested her at Rufford five days, and kept most her bedchamber, and in that time the young man, her son, fell into liking with my wife’sdaughter, Elizabeth Cavendish, and such liking was between them that my wife says she makes no doubt of a match. The young man is so far in love, that belike he is sick without her. This taking effect, I shall be well at quiet, for there is no nobleman’s son in England that she hath not prayed me to deal for, at one time or another.’
The poor man reckoned without his host when he spoke of quiet. There was another Bess in the field, and one not easily hoodwinked. A few days’ courtship, and a secret marriage! But the news soon reached the Queen’s ear. The whole party (with the exception of Lord Shrewsbury, in whose custody Mary Queen of Scots then was, and who exonerated himself in the transaction) was summoned in a body to London.
So the first days of the honeymoon were spent in a dreary ride through wintry weather, by the two poor young lovers, attended by their respective mothers, to meet a welcome on their arrival which matched but too well with the severity of the atmosphere. The match-making mothers were lodged in the Tower, and left there for some time to reflect on the imprudence of giving so near a kinsman of the Queen’s away in marriage, without her consent, one (more especially) who had pretensions to the succession.
It was some time before the ladies were released, and by then little Arabella had appeared on the scene, having been born at Chatsworth, the beautiful estate which Bess had induced or commanded her second husband, Sir William Cavendish, to purchase. No sooner did Lord and Lady Lennox hear that the Dowager was at liberty than they joined her with the new-born infant at the old house at Hackney. The Queen of Scotland having written graciously on the occasion of the birth, both mother and grandmother wrote to thank her for the remembrance ‘of our little daughter, who some day may serve your Highness.’
The death of Charles Lennox, which happened shortly afterwards, plunged his family into poverty as well as sorrow. In spite of all her relations could say in her behalf, Arabella’s English possessions were pounced on bygoodQueen Bess, while both James and the Regent Murray ignored the orphan’s pretensions to titles, and land in Scotland, heedless of Queen Mary’s exertions and expostulations. James, indeed, was so kind as to propose that Arabella should marry the man on whom he had bestowed the Earldom of Lennox—a favourite scheme of his. The child was about two years old when her grandmother died, in whom she lost a zealous, though not always judicious champion. Illustrious as was her birth, Margaret Dowager Countess of Lennox’s finances were so low as not to be sufficient to defray her funeral expenses; and the Queen, doubtless glad to be rid of her importunities, gave orders for a sumptuous interment in Westminster Abbey to the woman she had not scrupled to defraud in her lifetime.
In 1582 Elizabeth Lady Lennox followed her mother-in-law to the grave after a short illness, and her death brought deep grief to the heart of the otherwise worldly-minded Lady Shrewsbury, who took the little orphan to reside with her.
In spite of her proud spirit, Bess of Hardwicke did not disdain to write to Lord Burghley that her love for the child was more than that of a natural mother, on account of her near relationship to the Queen, to whom both Lord and Lady Shrewsbury made periodical and ineffectual appeals in behalf of their charge.
The early days of Arabella Stuart’s childhood were passed at Chatsworth and Hardwicke, and when she was about seven, proposals of marriage commenced, which went on without intermission for years. Lord Leicester, it seems, was minded to betroth her to his son (by Lettice Knollys, widow of the Earl of Essex). The bridegroom-elect’s age was two,yet we are gravely informed that the children were told of their engagement, and portraits exchanged.
The Queen did not approve of the idea, but a sterner mandate forbade the banns. ‘The noble imp, Baron of Denbigh,’ as he is called on his monument at Warwick, died, to the inexpressible grief of his father. At ‘Hardwicke Hall, more glass than wall,’ (one of the most interesting of England’s ‘proud ancestral homes,’ and a glory to Bess the builder, beside the older house, now a ruin, where her father lived,) amongst a treasury of portraits, there is one of little Arabella, which is doubtless the identical picture alluded to as painted at this time.
A sweet little face peeps out of a formal dress of the period—richly embroidered gown, high head and cap, numerous ornaments, with a jewel bearing this ambiguous and no way prophetic motto, ‘Pour parvenir j’endure.’
In her hand she carries a doll dressed in the same quaint and stiff manner as the young mistress. The picture is full of pathos to those who remember the subsequent history of the then loved and petted child. Arabella’s bedroom is shown at Hardwicke, and her memory blends well with the picturesque background of those time-honoured walls.
Lord Burghley, who was very friendly to Arabella’s interests, (and the feeling proved hereditary,) writes to Bess to warn her ‘there are plots to carry off the child.’ She thanks him; says she is ‘careful Arabella takes the air near the house; goes not to any one else; lieth in my own bedchamber. Is most loving and affectionate.’
The grandam appeared really to have a very soft place in her heart for the pretty intelligent, amiable, amenable child; but Arabella’s early life was passed in the midst of domestic strife, as Bess was always at variance with her husband, and his, her, or their children. But with these squabbles the present narrative has nothing to do.
Sir Walter Mildmay, on a visit to Lord Shrewsbury, was captivated by the little lady, then about eleven, and bade her write a letter to the Queen; but he reckoned without his host when he thought so innocent and simple an appeal could touch so tough a heart. Surely never was one young maiden made the centre of so many matrimonial speculations as the Lady Arabella. All kinds of husbands, of all countries, grades, religions, and ages, were selected for her; plots and schemes for the aggrandisement of the plotters, laid, while the unconscious object was still playing with the doll we saw at Hardwicke Hall.
In the course of time, James King of Scotland, (we do not pretend to place them in chronological order,) Henry d’Albret, (HenryIV.of France,) Philip of Spain, the Duke of Parma, or his brother, whom the Pope would have released from his ecclesiastical vows for such a prize, the King of Portugal, the Duc d’Anjou, as many pretenders as there are sands on the sea-shore; but the poor girl chose (and that unfortunately) for herself. Soon after the death of Mary Queen of Scots, Elizabeth sent for Arabella (then twelve years old) to Court, showed her great favour, invited her to dine at the royal table, and gave her precedence over all the nobility. She won all hearts, pretty, witty, amiable, unsuspicious, and gentle-hearted. The Queen treated her with characteristic inconsistency, now with indulgence, now with severity.
One day at Court, calling Arabella to her side, and presenting her to Madame Chateauneuf (the French Ambassadress), she bade the lady look well at that child. ‘She is not so unimportant as you may think. One day she will be even as I am, and be lady mistress.’ This speech was doubtless intended to spite the King of Scotland, rather than to be believed by those who heard it. M. and Madame Chateauneuf were delighted with the child, observing that ‘she spoke Latin, French, and Italian well, sufficiently handsome in theface, and without doubt the lawful heritress of the kingdom, if James of Scotland be excluded.’
The grave old Lord Burghley loved the child, and made much of her at supper, on the first night of her presentation at Court.
Years passed on, and Arabella was made the centre of intrigues of all kinds, both abroad and at home; and she became the object of jealousy and suspicion. The Queen’s fury was roused by hearing her young kinswoman had betrothed herself to William Seymour, grandson to the Earl of Hertford, and the unfortunate Katherine Grey.
The alliance was most distasteful to Elizabeth, who was inimical to the whole house of Hertford. Arabella was arrested, and Her Majesty, much perturbed, fell sick; it was even reported that the illness was of the Lady Arabella’s contriving! Alluding to this, she writes most pathetically:—‘While we wash our hands in innocency let the grand accuser, and all his Ministers do their worst. God will be on our side, and reveal the truth to our most gracious Sovereign.’
Elizabeth died. James succeeded, and Cecil spoke to him in behalf of his cousin, then a kind of honoured prisoner at Wrest House, the seat of the Earl of Kent, who had married a Talbot. Cecil besought and advised the King to deal gently with her, and she was set at liberty, but went by her friend’s advice to dwell at Sheen, with my Lady Northampton, whence she wrote many letters petitioning for some allowance suitable to her birth. James at first showed her much favour, and appointed her nominally governess to his daughter, Princess Elizabeth. She accordingly set out for Welbeck to meet the Queen (Anne of Denmark) and her retinue on her way from Scotland. Sir Charles Cavendish (Arabella’s uncle) gave the royal travellers a royal welcome at his house of Welbeck with revellings and maskings, and beautiful girls dressed as nymphs, and the goddess Diana, who came to bidthe Queen welcome, ‘and proved to be no other than the Lady Arabella.’
Bess of Hardwicke had deputed her granddaughter to invite Queen Anne to Chatsworth, but to the old lady’s disgust her invitation was not only rejected but waived in favour of her deadly enemy, her step-son and son-in-law, Lord Shrewsbury.
Princess Elizabeth was charmed with her governess, and was never so happy as in her company. At Queen Anne’s first drawing room, we are told that Arabella was present with her aunt, Lady Shrewsbury, and that ‘both were sumptuous in apparell, and exceeding curious in jewellery.’ From letters preserved at Longleat we find that Lord Shrewsbury was in constant correspondence with his niece, urging her to prudence, warning her of pitfalls around her, in consequence of her being made the unwilling and unconscious nucleus of political plots, and her answers invariably testify to her sense and her affection for her counsellor. She was at Woodstock with the Court during the Plague, and writes delightful letters thence, which we regret not having the space to insert. Her own views were in no ways dazzled by Court life; her playful description of a Dutch lady who came over from the Duchess of Holstein to learn the English fashions, must perforce be inserted:—‘She hath been here twice from Oxford, and thinketh every day long till she be at home, so well she liketh her entertainment, or loveth her own country. In truth, she is civil, and therefore cannot but look for the like which she brings out of a ruder country. But if ever there were such a virtue as courtesy at the Court, I marvel what is become of it, for I protest I see little or none of it but in the Queen, who speaketh to the people as she passeth, and receiveth their prayers with thankful countenance.’
Another letter bemoans the loss of time which the royal pair lost in their immoderate passion for hunting, to the greatdisgust of many courtiers, who were not equally enamoured of the noble science. She says: ‘I could believe I had become a child again; we are seeing the ladies-in-waiting take delight in the most frivolous games, such as “Arise up, pig,” and the like.’
She was also much disgusted at the manner in which the dead lioness, the late Queen, was kicked at. Small as was the pittance allowed her, she was expected to offer Christmas and other seasonable gifts to Her Majesty Queen Anne, and others.
Poor Arabella, considerate and wise, whose leisure was spent, ‘scant as it was, in reading of service and preaching.’
In 1603 the celebrated trial of Sir Walter Raleigh took place, in which, among numerous counts, he was accused of plotting to place Arabella Stuart on the throne. But when her name was mentioned in Court, Robert Cecil, her friend, rose and said, ‘Let us not scandal the innocent by confusion of speech; the Lady Arabella is as innocent of these things as I, or any man here,’ and then followed an able defence.
Arabella, who was much attached to her uncle, Lord Shrewsbury, was always striving, at least by letter, to make peace between him and her grandmother, which was perhaps the reason that she lost favour with that irascible old lady.
We hear of ‘the Lady Arabell riding in a procession through the city, next to the Queen, on a crimson velvet caparisoned horse, acting in masques and pageants, sumptuously arrayed; but the poor lady was deep in debt, and her uncle of Shrewsbury in the like plight, unable to help her.’ She was, however, much liked at Court, and chosen sponsor to little Princess Mary, (who died young,) and, says Birch, ‘she was very dear to Prince Henry, not less for her near relation to him, than for her accomplishments of mind, both natural and acquired.’ The Duke of Holstein was a zealous suitor, ‘but the Lady Arabella will not hear of marriage.’The King of Denmark, when on a visit to the Queen, his sister, was captivated by her, and they corresponded in Latin.
In 1608 died Bess of Hardwicke, Countess of Shrewsbury, ‘feared by many, flattered by some, beloved by none,’ having disinherited the grandchild whom she professed to love. Arabella’s favour at Court lasted up to 1609, at the close of which year she was placed in restraint, and her servants arrested, and early in the ensuing year she was accused of having entered into a secret treaty of marriage with her old love, William Seymour. A fitter husband could scarcely be found, but what availed that fitness, if the match did not please the tyrant who ruled his unfortunate kinswoman’s destinies?
Seymour was ‘a quiet, steady young man,’ loving his book above all other exercise. They are supposed to have met frequently when the youth was at College, and the lady at Woodstock with the Court; be this as it may, the lovers met, and solemnly plighted their troth. Twice they saw each other, at the houses of confidential friends, and ere a third interview could be effected, they were both summoned before the Privy Council, admonished, forgiven, and betrayed into promises impossible to keep. They were separated for a time, and Arabella, with a heavy heart, was called upon to parade her comeliness and her talent in a Court masque, where she enacted a nymph of Trent, her costume, most elaborate and minutely described, of gold, silver, seaweeds, sedges, and cloth of both metals, all embroidered, and shells and coral on the crest of a helm. That was the end of her grandeur and her prosperity, and now came tribulation of all kinds. At Whitsuntide, Seymour, accompanied by a friend and confidant, by name Rodney, went down to Greenwich, where they arrived at midnight. They waited till morning, and then found access to Lady Arabella’s apartment, where thelovers were united; Rodney and two servants serving as witnesses. The secret soon transpired, and the luckless bride was placed in the custody of Sir Thomas Parry at a house in Lambeth, ‘opposite a capital mansion called Fauxhall,’ to remain there with one or two of her women, without access of any other person till His Majesty’s further pleasure should be known.
Hence she addressed letters which seemed indeed to soften the King’s hard heart; the Queen, it appears, frequently interceded, as did many other influential persons, but without effect. The bridegroom was lodged in the Tower; Arabella continued to write letters to her uncle, to her husband, and innumerable petitions to the Council in most pathetic terms, ‘that had not God for some high purpose steeled the hearts of men, they must perforce have pitied her.’
James now ordered her off into the custody of the Bishop of Durham, who repaired to Sir Thomas Parry’s house to receive his charge.
Arabella’s grief at the prospect of a long journey far from the city which held the beloved of her heart was intense. Her agitation was terrible to witness, and much affected the good Prelate, who used all his poor skill to comfort her, and make her submit to the royal decree by exhorting her to follow the patient example of holy saints, and that in the presence of Mr. Chancellor, Dr. Mountford, (a trusty friend of the poor prisoners,) and others. But Arabella would accept no comfort, and on the journey to Highgate, the physician was called on three times to administer cordials, so faint and sick was his fair charge.
He took upon himself next day (when after passing a miserable night at the house of Sir William Bond, Arabella woke up from a few hours’ sleep in great exhaustion) to forbid her proceeding any further. The Bishop having the King’s displeasure before his eyes, went to her bedside and besoughther to rise, ‘telling her of the sweet air, the beautiful day, and the duty of her journey.’ But the good physician braved all for her health’s sake, though this step entailed the necessity of a letter from Bishop and doctor too, to the Lords in Council.
James, anxious to ascertain if the illness were feigned, sent his own physician to see Arabella, and consult with Dr. Mountford, who told him plainly ‘remedies were useless, and that he could warrant no amendmente of her health, or continuance of lyfe if some contentment of minde be not granted. His aim,’ he said, ‘was to cherish her into life.’ Nevertheless cruel orders came to hurry her on her way, and during a ride of six miles, she was attacked by deadly sickness and faintness, and was carried almost insensible to the house of a gentleman named Thomas Conyers, resident at East Barnet. Letters again passed from the travellers to high quarters, and the physician wrote to Lady Shrewsbury, (Arabella’s aunt,) who was most uneasy on the sufferer’s account.
A respite of a month was granted. The Bishop returned to Durham, and she was committed to the care of Sir James Crofts; but her servants were removed from her side. The Bishop on his way stopped at Royston, where the Court was, and thought to benefit the prisoner’s cause by most abject appeals to the King; indeed, the Bishop went so far as to say ‘his cousin would willingly sweep his chamber,’ which we take leave to suppose was speaking without book. At the termination of the month the lady was commanded to proceed on her way north; she was still indisposed, and she made the most of that excuse. Whenever Sir James Crofts visited her she was stretched on the bed in pain. ‘She apprehended nothing but fear and anger in the most ugliest forms; the horrors of her utter ruin drive her to despair; to live out one only year in some convenient place not so clean out of the world as she termeth Durham, she could gather to herself some weak hopes of more gentle times to come.’ Sir James, who likemost people seems to have experienced her fascination, says again, ‘the best and pleasingest discourse had no effect on her mind, but was met by tears and lamentations.’ Her faithful Mountford went to London to plead for her with James, who declared ‘to Durham she should go if he were King,’ but at length another month’s respite was granted.
Arabella had now a project in her head, and her aunt, Lady Shrewsbury, (born Cavendish,) had devoted herself to the cause of her unfortunate niece. She appealed to all the persons whom she believed to have influence at Court, and finding all other means fail, she contrived a plan of escape, and forwarded a large sum of money to facilitate the same.
The money was sent nominally for the payment of Arabella’s debts, and for the commission of purchasing some needlework of Mary Queen of Scots. Crompton, her faithful man-servant, deeply attached to his mistress, managed all these transactions, prepared disguises, and communicated with William Seymour in some miraculous manner. Arabella now feigned entire submission to the King’s commands, and expressed her willingness to proceed to Durham, by which means she threw her keepers off their guard; moreover, she worked on the compassion of one of her attendants (a minister’s wife) to assist her.
On the 4th of June the unhappy lady assumed her disguise—‘a pair of French-fashioned hose, a man’s doublet, a long-locked peruke, black hat and cloak, white boots with red tops, and a rapier by her side;’ and thus equipped set forth, with Markham, one of her servants, on foot. But Arabella was neither as strong of purpose, or of body as Rosalind, and she ofttimes ‘disgraced her man’s apparel by bearing herself like a woman.’
She turned faint ere they reached ‘the sorry inne’ where the trusty Crompton awaited them with saddle-horses, so much so that the hostler who held the stirrup remarked, asshe languidly mounted, ‘The gentleman will scarcely reach London.’
The fresh air and exercise, however, revived her, and they arrived at Blackwall in safety. This was the place of rendezvous with her husband, and some faithful followers, but in vain they waited for Seymour, till it was counted so dangerous to delay that, leaving one to communicate with him, when he should appear, she set out in a boat with a female attendant, the two men, Markham, and Crompton, following in another with her baggage. At Lee they found a vessel lying at anchor. They hailed her, and finding she was bound for Berwick, and would not change her course even for a heavy bribe, they inquired if there were not a French vessel anywhere near. Alas! these inquiries were calculated to put the bloodhounds on the track.
In describing the fugitives afterwards, the captain, having spoken of the men, said there were ‘two women, one bare-faced, in a black riding safeguard, and a hat; the other was so wrapped in a long cloak, and her face so closely covered, that he could not see her; but in drawing off her glove she manifested a marvellous fair white hand.’ Poor Arabella, to whose beautiful hand so many courtly compliments and sonnets had been addressed!
They reached the French vessel and embarked, in despair at the non-appearance of Seymour; yet hoping for his arrival at every moment, she besought the French captain to remain at anchor at least another day; but her attendants insisted on his hoisting sail, well aware that to delay was madness. (Seymour’s adventures will be related in the notice of his life.) So the French ship got under weigh, having on board for freight a heart heavy enough to sink her.
The news of her escape filled the King’s mind with rage and consternation; he pictured Arabella to himself making common cause with all his enemies on the Continent; thehue and cry became general. Salisbury, who must surely in his secret heart have prayed for the escape of his old favourite, was ordered to write to the Governor of Calais to intercept Seymour and his wife, (who were supposed to be together,) on their arrival in port. Every ship was to be searched, every means taken, for the apprehension of the fugitives.
Alas! alas! the measures were too well taken (the details are needless); suffice it to say that the train was but too well laid, the track but too well followed. ‘The Adventure,’ one of the vessels sent in pursuit, standing for Calais, was in mid-channel when a sail was sighted. A boat was immediately lowered, as there was but little wind, and six armed men made way for the French vessel. They challenged her in vain, and fired a broadside and several volleys of musketry, giving time for the advance of ‘The Adventure.’
The Frenchman stood thirteen shots before he surrendered, and then Arabella, anxious to avoid bloodshed, came on deck, discovered herself to the captain, and acknowledged there was no use in further resistance. The crew of the boat boarded the French ship, and arrested Arabella, at the same time demanding her husband. She made them a brave and noble answer, saying she had not seen him; she hoped and believed he was safe, and the joy she experienced at his escape far outweighed the sorrow she felt at her own capture.
She was then taken as a close prisoner on board ‘The Adventure,’ with all the rest of the passengers. The King, overjoyed at the news, lost no time; Arabella and her aunt and confidante, Lady Shrewsbury, were sent to the Tower, with several of their adherents, and others, lodged in different prisons—her faithful Crompton, Markham, the minister’s wife, Sir James Crofts, and no end of arrests.
Lord Shrewsbury was kept a prisoner in his house, and the aged Earl of Hertford summoned to London, to Court. ‘If he be found healthful enough to travel, he must not delay.’
The two ladies were examined before the Privy Council, and we are told that Arabella answered the Lords ‘with good judgment and discretion,’ while the Countess is said ‘to be utterly without reason, crying out that all is but tricks and giggs, that she will answer nothing in private, and if she have offended in law she will answer in public.’ A reply by no means unreasonable, although it would appear that the younger lady was calm and dignified under provocation and persecution, and the elder excited and indignant. The chief count against Lady Shrewsbury was the ready money she had advanced for her niece’s escape, by which she was accused of intending to bribe the Catholic party.
The Scotch and English faction, we are informed by the same authority, were at great issue on this subject. Seymour was safe beyond seas, and James was at rest on that score, as long as the unhappy pair were separated.
In vain were appeals made in Arabella’s behalf to the hard-hearted tyrant. Bishop Goodman says of her: ‘She is a virtuous and good lady, of great intellectuals, and harmless, and gives no offence.’ She was in all things gentle, and showed gratitude for the slightest kindness, but she was treated with great indignity,—the money and jewels found on her person seized by the King’s orders, her servants denied access to her, and Lady Shrewsbury was not even allowed to have an attendant of any kind. What a contrast to the sumptuous life at Hardwicke, Chatsworth, and all the other palaces to which she had been accustomed in her mother’s lifetime!
Lord Shrewsbury wrote a most pitiful appeal respecting the dilapidated state of his wife’s apartments in the Tower, to Lord Salisbury, and after a time some mercy was shown her, and a servant appointed to wait on her, and, crowning grace! a copy of verses, written by Charles Cavendish for the poor prisoner’s delectation, was allowed to be placed in herhands. The wretched Arabella spent her hours in weeping and mourning. Sometimes she roused herself to embroider a gift for the King, which he would not accept. Her pen was seldom idle; ‘in all humility, in most humble wise,’ she wrote to James, ‘the most wretched, and unfortunate creature that ever lived, prostrates herself at the feet of the most merciful King that ever was.’ She wrote to Lord Northampton to complain of how badly she is nourished in sickness, of how others, however poor and unfortunate, are preserved alive for charity. ‘I can neither get clothes nor posset at all, nor any complement fit for a sick body in any case, when I call for it.’
Body and mind at last gave way, beneath constant suffering. Arabella showed signs of aberration of intellect, and was now moody, now despairing, now prone to fits of forced gaiety. Hearing of the marriage of her former friend and pupil, the Princess Elizabeth, the unhappy captive contrived to procure a new gown, in which she decked herself with much care. But little effect was produced at Court by the poor prisoner’s gala dress, and the betrothed was too happy to waste much thought on her favourite of other days.
In the same letter, quoted above, she says ‘that help will come too late,’ and declares ‘I do not fear to die, so I be not guilty of my own death, and oppress others with my ruin.’
Gradually but surely her intellect became undermined. She made some incoherent accusations against Lady Shrewsbury, which proved very disadvantageous to that lady, the rigour of whose captivity had been lately mitigated; but was again summoned before the Council, charged with contempt towards the King in refusing to answer questions, again replied scornfully, and pleaded the privilege of her person and nobility, and a rash vow she had made to be silent. She was remanded to the Tower, but the evident signs of insanity evinced by her unfortunate niece nullified the charges broughtagainst her. Early in March 1613 Arabella was attacked with convulsions, and declared insane by a physician. Her humble friend Crompton had laid a second plan for her escape, but deliverance was to come in another guise.
Her husband and his father were currying favour with James, but seemed to have troubled themselves little about the poor prisoner, though by some it was believed Seymour wrote to her constantly, and that his letters were intercepted. She grew weaker in body and more feeble in mind, until on the 25th of September, says Nichols, ‘that ill-fated and persecuted lady, Arabella Seymour, daughter of Charles Earl of Lennox, and cousin-german of Henry Darnley, father of King James, died in the Tower of London.’
In the dead of night the daughter of a line of kings was carried along the black river to Westminster Abbey, and there deposited in the royal vault beneath the coffin of Mary Queen of Scots. All pomp and ceremony were forbidden, the Burial Service was read by stealth as over some felon’s grave, not for any fault of her own, but because ‘to have a great funeral for one dying out of the King’s favour would have reflected upon the King’s honour.’
A sadder page can scarcely be found in England’s history, and among many crimes which blacken the fame of James Stuart, perhaps the slow murder of his unhappy kinswoman is the worst.
The terrible traces of suffering and unmistakable signs of imbecility exhibited in this portrait, lead to the conjecture that it must have been painted during her confinement in the Tower.
No. 88.
JAMES DUKE OF YORK, AFTERWARDSJAMES II., KING OF ENGLAND.By Sir Peter Lely.BORN 1633, DEPOSED 1688, DIED 1701.Full length. Crimson robes. Mantle. Collar and Order of Garter.
JAMES DUKE OF YORK, AFTERWARDSJAMES II., KING OF ENGLAND.By Sir Peter Lely.BORN 1633, DEPOSED 1688, DIED 1701.Full length. Crimson robes. Mantle. Collar and Order of Garter.
JAMES DUKE OF YORK, AFTERWARDS
JAMES II., KING OF ENGLAND.
By Sir Peter Lely.
BORN 1633, DEPOSED 1688, DIED 1701.
Full length. Crimson robes. Mantle. Collar and Order of Garter.
THE second son of CharlesI.by Henrietta Maria. Married, first, Anne Hyde, daughter of the Earl of Clarendon, and, secondly, Maria d’Este of Modena. By his first marriage he had Mary, married to the Prince of Orange, afterward WilliamIII., and Anne, married to the Prince of Denmark, who succeeded her sister as Queen. By Mary of Modena he had Charles, who died young, James, called the Chevalier de St. George, or the Old Pretender, and three daughters.
ELIZABETH LADY NOTT.Full length. Grey satin dress. Ringlets. Hand resting on table.
ELIZABETH LADY NOTT.Full length. Grey satin dress. Ringlets. Hand resting on table.
ELIZABETH LADY NOTT.
Full length. Grey satin dress. Ringlets. Hand resting on table.
SHE was the sister of Sir Henry Frederick Thynne and married Sir William Nott of Richmond, in the county of Surrey.
No. 90.
ROBERT DUDLEY, EARL OF LEICESTER.By Zucchero.BORN CIRCA 1532, DIED 1588.Full length. Gold and white dress. Gorget. George and Garter. Pageholding a helmet and tilting lance. Tent in background.
ROBERT DUDLEY, EARL OF LEICESTER.By Zucchero.BORN CIRCA 1532, DIED 1588.Full length. Gold and white dress. Gorget. George and Garter. Pageholding a helmet and tilting lance. Tent in background.
ROBERT DUDLEY, EARL OF LEICESTER.
By Zucchero.
BORN CIRCA 1532, DIED 1588.
Full length. Gold and white dress. Gorget. George and Garter. Page
holding a helmet and tilting lance. Tent in background.
HE was the fifth son of John Dudley, Earl of Warwick, afterwards Duke of Northumberland, by the daughter and heir of Sir Henry Guildford. He began life early. In 1551 he was named Gentleman of the Bedchamber and Master of the Buckhounds to King EdwardVI., by whom he was much esteemed. But it would appear that before, or shortly after, his appointment he fell in love with Amy, the fair daughter of Sir John Robsart, over whose sad fate the ‘Wizard of the North’ has thrown so dazzling a glamour, though, contrary to his version of the story, it would appear that the marriage was public and took place at Court. On the death of Edward, and the failure of the scheme devised by the Duke of Northumberland to place his daughter-in-law, Lady Jane Grey, on the throne, Lord Robert Dudley was imprisoned in the Tower on a charge of high treason, and had sentence of death passed on him, and it was supposed he only escaped sharing his father’s fate, by pleading guilty. Any way, he was liberated with a free pardon, and on the marriage of Queen Mary with Philip of Spain, he ingratiated himself into that Prince’s favour, and ‘was most serviceable to both King and Queen,’ says Strype, ‘by carrying messages between them, often riding post to do so.’ To the Princess Elizabeth he had been playfellow inchildhood, and fellow-prisoner in the Tower, and when she came to the throne she did not forget old days.
She made him Master of the Horse, Knight of the Garter, and Privy Councillor, showering upon him grants and estates without number. Indeed, his influence with her was so great that Secretary Cecil (if we may credit that arch gossip, De Quadra, the Spanish Ambassador at the Court of London) wished Lord Robert Dudley in Paradise. The same writer says that the Queen told him that Lady Robert was very ill, and some time afterwards ‘che si ha rotto il collo.’ It certainly was rumoured at Court that but for the slight obstacle of a wife, the Queen would throw over all her foreign and royal suitors in favour of this handsome polished minion, as Froude calls him. The tragedy of Cumnor Hall will ever remain a mystery; but all these reports which preceded it, and the fact that Lord and Lady Robert had scarcely ever appeared together in public since their marriage, all went to strengthen suspicion against the husband.
On the other hand, no sooner did Dudley hear of his wife’s death, which he said was ‘the most unfortunate thing that could have happened to him,’ than he caused a searching inquiry to be made, and he sent down poor Amy’s half-brother to investigate the matter. On the inquest, these facts transpired: The Lady had insisted on the household leaving her to go to Abingdon Fair, and on their return she was found dead at the bottom of a staircase, without any marks of violence. By some it was suggested she might have been first suffocated and then placed in that position; others again were of opinion that she had committed suicide, seeing she had been overheard to say she prayed God to preserve her from desperation. But one of her attendants would not tolerate the idea, saying she was a good and virtuous gentlewoman. The verdict was accidental death, but the country was full of strange mutterings, the echoes of which have never died away.A few contemporaneous documents have lately been found at Longleat which throw some fresh light on the circumstances of her marriage and domestic life. It does not appear to have been one of constrained seclusion, as commonly supposed, nor is there, in the papers alluded to, any indication of estrangement on the part of her husband, still less anything to implicate him, as accessory to her violent death, if it really were such.
In forming opinions on Dudley’s moral character, it is only fair to remember that many of the stories which were spread to his prejudice have their origin in a notorious book entitledLeicester’s Commonwealth, written by men who were his deadliest enemies in politics and religion, especially ‘Parsons the Jesuit.’ This was circulated inMS.for many years, a copy being extant at Longleat; but the Queen and Privy Council published a protest against its slanders. A gorgeous funeral was decreed to the unhappy Amy at Oxford, and Dudley was free. We need not recapitulate the well-known story of Elizabeth’s vacillating conduct with regard to him and her numerous suitors; how all England believed she was on the point of selecting him as her husband; of how Mary Queen of Scots mildly remarked that the Queen of England was about to marry her horsekeeper, who had murdered his wife to make room for her; of how Elizabeth turned round and proposed he should marry Mary, saying that if she herself intended to marry, she should prefer him to all the Princes in the world; and contrasting him with his brother Lord Warwick, she said, ‘He is rough, and lacks the delicacy of Robert.’
As far as she ever was in earnest in her constantly fluctuating matrimonial speculations, Bess really did appear to be so about the Scotch marriage, as she created her favourite Earl of Leicester apparently to fit him for a higher position; and she remarked querulously to Melville, (Mary’s confidentialenvoy to England,) ‘You like better yon long lad,’ pointing to Darnley, who bore the sword of State at the ceremony of Dudley’s elevation to the peerage, and the poor ‘long lad,’ unfortunately for himself, became Mary’s choice; and Elizabeth returned to the game of fast-and-loose with Leicester. His suit, says Froude, was never listened to more favourably than when it served to interfere with another man’s, but on a sudden she was informed he was already secretly married to the widow of Walter Devereux, Earl of Essex.
Already during the lifetime of her noble husband this lady’s name had been whispered in conjunction with that of Leicester, in no creditable manner, and their hasty marriage, after the sudden and mysterious death of Lord Essex, gave rise to many dark suspicions. Another scandal, too, was afloat; another secret, or pretended marriage was spoken of between Leicester and the daughter of Lord Effingham, widow of Lord Sheffield. Lodge tells us that when Dudley wished to marry Lady Essex, he compelled the unhappy woman to renounce all claim to the title of his lawful wife, by publicly espousing Sir Edward Stafford. All this transpired at a later period, when she came forward in behalf of her son, whom Lady Leicester persecuted with law-suits after his father’s death. It would appear that Dudley entertained much affection for the child whom he had injured, whose legitimacy he now affirmed, now denied, and at his death bequeathed to him the estates of Kenilworth, which the bad woman who had supplanted his mother would not allow him to enjoy in peace. Lettice, Lady Leicester, survived her husband nearly half a century. Elizabeth always hated her, and would never be reconciled to her, although she was the mother of Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, who succeeded his stepfather in the royal favour. The Queen stormed and raved on first hearing of the marriage, wept profusely, and behaved as was her wont. In 1584 she sent Leicester to the Low Countries in commandof the auxiliary forces, and he joined his gallant nephew, Sir Philip Sidney, at Flushing. He lived in such state, and took so much upon himself, as to expose him to a severe reprimand from home. He returned, and went out again to Zealand with fresh levies, and was restored to greater favour than ever. In the famous speech she addressed to the troops at Tilbury, Elizabeth extolled her favourite to the skies, having already named him to the command of the army raised to oppose the expected Spanish invasion. It was reported she intended to make him Viceregent of England, but the mighty solver of many a vexed question arrested his progress. He died of fever at his house at Cornbury, county Oxford, on his way to Kenilworth, September 1588.