Shakespeare assured his hearers, in the age of which we are now
writing, "the course of true love never did run smooth," and the
assertion is certainly as true as a proverb. When Arabella Stuart
retired to her chamber for the night, her heart was relieved of part
of the load which her lover's apparently strange conduct had brought
upon it; yet sufficient anxiety and grief remained in her mind, to
give her ample subject for thought and sorrowful meditation. She was
still a little angry, it must be confessed, that Seymour should even
have doubted her--her, whose whole thoughts and affections had been
with him during his absence. But yet, perhaps, there might be a
certain sort of gratification, too, in her bosom, to see that his love
for her still remained so powerful, that the least apprehension of
losing her should change his whole nature, and render one, so
uniformly kind, tender, and ardent,--cold, discourteous, and
repulsive. It was a little triumph of its sort, which even Arabella's
heart could not but be pleased with.
Hers, however, was not a character either to retain such anger, or
enjoy such triumph long; and the whole was soon swallowed up in joy at
his return, and grief for the uneasiness he had suffered. The more
painful part of her contemplations referred to the rumours which he
had heard; and she asked herself with fear,--what if the King should
have given encouragement to his favourite to pursue the suit for her
hand?--what would be her fate if James, won to the views of Rochester,
should insist upon her accepting him as her husband? How could such
rumours get abroad? she inquired likewise, unless some much more
marked approbation of Rochester's ambition than any of her own acts
had given, had been received from a quarter where will and authority
went together?
Women, however, have generally a happy art of putting aside the
consideration of painful probabilities. They have much greater faith
in the influence of time and accident in removing obstacles and
averting dangers than men; and Arabella consoled herself with the hope
of seeing William Seymour on the following morning, and enjoying an
interview, however short, during which all clouds would be swept away,
and their whole hearts opened to each other as before.
Such expectations were strengthened ere she retired to rest. Ida Mara,
who had not been in her chamber when she first returned, appeared not
long after, while one of the maids was combing their lady's beautiful
long hair, and, standing beside her, as was her wont when she was at
her toilet, talked gaily of all the pageants which Lord Salisbury's
mansion had presented during the day, and described the hall, through
which she had just passed, as displaying a lamentable, yet ludicrous
scene of drunkenness and folly.
When the lady was undressed, she told her attendants to leave her as
usual to her prayers; but the pretty Italian girl begged leave to
remain a moment, saying that she had something to tell her mistress;
and the moment the two maids were gone, she took a note from her
bosom, and put it into Arabella's hand.
"Dear lady," she cried at the same time, "do you know that the
gentleman who, with Sir Lewis Lewkenor, escorted you to Wilton long,
long ago, has come back again? I found him standing at the bottom of
the stairs just now; and, the moment he saw me, he asked if my name
was not Ida Mara, and then gave me that note, with directions to
deliver it when you were alone. Oh, you will be so glad to see him!"
"How know you that, Ida Mara?" exclaimed Arabella, with a smile.
"Because you wept when he went away," replied the girl, archly, "and
have sighed ever since, when I talked to you of Italy."
"Well, Ida Mara," answered her mistress, "you must tell no one that I
wept when he went away, for it might be dangerous to him and to me."
"Then I would die first," cried the girl; and Arabella, opening the
note, read a few hasty lines from William Seymour, beseeching her to
walk early in the park on the following morning, before the rest of
the Court was stirring. "I have a thousand things to say," continued
Seymour, "a thousand things to tell, a thousand things to ask
forgiveness for."
Arabella's heart fluttered; for, although she had no
hesitation,--though she looked upon herself as bound to him by every
tie, and believed that she had no right to refuse any reasonable
request, yet there was something in the idea of purposely going out to
meet him, which agitated, if it did not alarm her.
Telling Ida Mara to wake her early, she retired to rest; but little
sleep did poor Arabella gain that night, and by daybreak on the
following morning she was up and at her toilet. Scarcely had she
commenced, however, when Ida Mara entered, informing her that the
whole Court was on foot, the King having been ill in the night, and
about to set out immediately for London.
The lady finished dressing herself in haste, and, descending the
stairs, went out by the small postern door opening upon the terrace.
Leaving that exposed spot as soon as she could, she proceeded by a
flight of steps into the gardens below, and thence, by a long straight
walk, towards a long avenue, which, though now long cut down, was in
those days one of the greatest ornaments of the place. A step behind
her soon caught her ear; and the next instant Seymour was by her side.
But she had only time to learn that, there being no room in the house,
he was lodged in one of the villages near, and to tell him that all
were in the hurry of departure at the Court, when two Scotch
gentlemen, named Ramsay and Morton, appeared in the avenue, and
Arabella exclaimed eagerly, "We must part, Seymour, for the present.
Call often at Shrewsbury House; for if I have anything to tell, I will
leave a letter there for you. My aunt is all kindness, and in part
knows what is between us."
"Then I can communicate with you, there," cried Seymour.
"Yes, yes," replied Arabella. "Farewell, farewell," and she left him.
Had they been wise and practised in such meetings, instead of parting
and each turning back by a separate path--a proceeding which might
plainly indicate to any who watched them, that they had come thither
by agreement, and returned as soon as they had said what they wished
to communicate--William Seymour would have walked on towards the
house, and Arabella would have pursued her ramble, leaving those who
saw them to suppose that they had met accidentally.
They did not follow this plan, however, and their meeting was
accordingly marked and reported afterwards; for there was nothing in
which James found greater delight, than in learning all the secrets,
and investigating the private affairs, of those by whom he was
surrounded; and his courtiers took ample care to feed his appetite for
this sort of information with all the gossip of the Court.
From Theobalds to London, and from London to Hampton Court, Arabella
accompanied the Queen, with the interval of but one day; and during
the whole of the following week, she had no opportunity of seeing her
lover; for, without any apparent cause, events always took such a turn
as to prevent her from visiting London, even for an hour, as she had
proposed. She knew not how or why, but it seemed to her that she was
watched; nay, more, that her actions were overruled, without any
apparent stretch of authority. Wherever she proposed to go during the
day, a message from the Queen called her in another direction; and if
she walked out alone, she was sure to see some one at a distance,
walking step by step within view.
She tried to persuade herself that all this was accidental, and that
it was but the consciousness of her own wishes which made her suspect
other people had remarked them. But she was not allowed to remain long
in such a belief; for one morning, before she joined the Queen, Ida
Mara came into her chamber with her cheek glowing, and her bright eyes
full of light; and, sinking down on her knees beside her mistress, she
cried; "Oh, lady, lady dear, they wish me to betray you--to be a spy
upon you. That Sir Lewis Lewkenor sent for me this morning, and
commanded me, in the name of the King, to give him information daily
of all that you do."
Arabella turned somewhat pale;--"And what did you say, Ida Mara?" she
asked.
"I said at first, like a fool," replied the girl, "that I was your
servant, and not the King's. But I was sorry for it afterwards; for I
thought that if I showed them that they would get no tidings from me,
they might apply to some one else; so then I said as quietly as I
could, that I knew not there was anything to tell."
"What answered he to that?" demanded Arabella.
"Why he asked," replied the girl, "if Mr. Seymour had been to visit
you since he returned. I said boldly, No, as well I might; and he then
repeated that I must bring him intelligence every day; and, having by
this time bethought myself of what was best to do, I made him a low
courtesy, saying, that I trusted if I were to have such an office, I
should have some wages for it, otherwise I could not undertake it. He
replied that I should be well paid; and I answered that it must not be
like the officers of State who get their money when and how they can:
that I was too poor to wait. Whereupon he gave me a rose noble, which
I have got here."
Arabella shook her head. "I fear, Ida Mara," she said, "by taking the
man's money, you have committed yourself to give him information."
"Oh, he shall have it, he shall have it," cried Ida Mara, "as much as
he can desire. He shall know every gown you have put on, and how many
times you change your shoes, and what you say to your tailor when he
brings home your new suit. There shall not be a trifle of such a kind
that he shall not know."
"But if he questions you of other things?" asked Arabella.
"Oh, leave me to answer him, dear lady," cried the girl, "and be you
assured, that not one thing which you would keep secret shall he ever
discover from my lips. I will guard yours better than my own; and, as
he talks to me in villanous Italian, I shall have no difficulty in
leading his wit astray. But hark! there is some one knocks at the
door."
"See who it is," replied Arabella, in some agitation; "it is terrible
to be thus spied upon."
Ida Mara rose and went to the door of the chamber, which was in a deep
recess, leading from one of the towers, in which the room was
situated, to the main body of the building. The Italian girl opened
the door, and looked out upon the stairs, when, drawing back for a
moment, she turned an inquiring glance towards her mistress, to which
Arabella could make no reply, as she knew not who was there.
The girl then, acting upon her own judgment, opened the door wide,
without uttering a word; and with a light step, William Seymour
entered the room, Ida Mara quitting it at the same moment.
Arabella rose and sprang towards him; but before he could hold her to
his heart for a moment, she exclaimed, "Seymour, dear Seymour, you
must not stay--nay, not an instant! We are watched; suspicion is
aroused; and we may be both ruined if you remain.--I can bear this no
longer. I will find means to quit the Court within a few days. In the
meanwhile, I will write to you, and tell you all that has happened.
But now, you must leave me. Indeed, indeed you must!--Nay, surely you
have no jealousy of Arabella, now?"
"None, none, dearest," he cried, "but all I fear is, that they may
persecute you to wed this man."
"They would not succeed," answered Arabella; "besides, he seems to
have quitted the pursuit. I have seen nothing of him since we were
here. We have not exchanged a word for the last week.--But leave me,
Seymour, leave me, in pity.--You may frustrate your own hopes."
"I must at least give you this letter from my Lord of Shrewsbury,"
said Seymour. "Hearing that I was coming hither, he charged me with
it; but I know not what it contains."
"Well, well, I will read it afterwards," answered the lady. "Now,
Seymour, now you must go; but as you have been seen here, you had
better present yourself at the Court."
"I will," he answered, "I will. Adieu, then, dearest, if it must be
so;" and he left her.
Scarcely had he quitted the room, however, when some one again knocked
at the door, and, without much ceremony, entered, before the lady had
broken the seal of her uncle's letter. She was not a little surprised,
as she looked up, to see one of the keepers of the Council Chamber,
who advanced towards her with a low bow.
"What would you with me, sir?" she asked.
"The King, madam," he replied, "requires your Ladyship's presence
before the Council."
Arabella turned pale; but there was no means of avoiding whatever was
before her; and she replied at once, "I am ready to accompany you,
sir. Pray call my gentlewoman from that room on the left."
The keeper obeyed; and Arabella, after covering her head with a veil,
put her arm through that of Ida Mara, and followed the keeper to the
royal apartments.
In the ante-room to the council-chamber, her guide asked her to wait
for a moment, and opening the door, went in. As he did so, she heard
her lover's voice, answering aloud, "I carried her a letter from the
Earl of Shrewsbury, your Majesty."
The next moment the keeper again appeared, and ushered her into the
presence of the King. James was seated at the head of the table, with
a black velvet hat, looped with a large emerald, on his head, and
three or four noblemen, bare headed, on his right hand and on his
left. The moment he beheld Arabella, he said, with the broad Scottish
accent which he never lost, "Put the lady a chair, sirrah.--Now, young
gentleman, answer me again--and mind that you tell me the truth, for
there were eyes upon you, sir,--there were eyes upon you. How long did
you stay upon this visit?"
"I have no desire, your Majesty," replied Seymour, with some
haughtiness in his tone, "to speak aught but the truth; it is not my
custom. I might have stayed with the Lady Arabella some two minutes
and a half, or three minutes."
"The man says five, sir," cried the King.
"About five, your Majesty," said one of the councillors; "he is not
precise."
"It may have been five, sire," answered Seymour, slightly smiling;
"pleasant society makes the time pass quick, and unpleasant things
will make it seem tardy--methinks I have been here an hour."
"As bold as ever, I see," cried the King; "you will make yourself a
hot nest of it, sir, if you go on at this rate. When did you visit the
Lady Arabella before?"
"Some years ago, sir," replied William Seymour, "and then by your
Majesty's command."
"Do you mean to say, sir," asked the King, "that you have not seen her
since you had our gracious permission to return?"'
"Seen her I have, your Majesty," replied Seymour, "at Theobalds, the
night of the masque; and on the following morning I met her as she was
walking in the park. She is herself witness, however, that I did not
then detain her long; and I protest, upon my honour, that I have never
visited her since my return, except on this one occasion, when I
carried her the letter of my Lord Shrewsbury. Then I stayed not longer
than any gentleman might be expected to do in common courtesy--not
knowing," he added, bitterly, "that there was a spy at my heels;" and
he went on in a murmur to himself, "I would have cut off his ears, if
I had."
"Sir, you speak rashly and unadvisedly," replied the King: "spies are
necessary in all civilized states, and not to be lightlied by such
gallants as you. It is in some sort, sir, an holy ordinance. Did not
Joshua the prophet send out spies, who were received by that excellent
woman Rahab, the harlot, who let them down secretly from the wall? and
it is right that Kings and Judges should be informed, by discreet and
dutiful subjects, of all that is taking place around them, especially
in what concerns their near relations, sirrah. You hear, madam, what
this gentleman says; and I charge you, upon your allegiance, to tell
me if it be true?"
"Perfectly, sire," said Arabella, in a low voice, "as far as I have
heard it.--He brought me a letter from my uncle of Shrewsbury."
"Ay, is it even so?" cried the King; "you both sing the same song; but
I would fain see this letter."
Arabella hesitated. She knew not what her uncle might have said.
Besides the risk of his alluding to the messenger in such a way as
might excite suspicion, there was many a jest current upon the manners
of the Court which might not be very well fitted for the King's eye;
and, holding the letter in her hand, she replied, "This was not
written, sir, to be made public. I should think the letter of an uncle
to his niece might be----"
"Hout, nonsense!" cried James. "Is not a King God's Vicegerent upon
earth, and above all uncles or fathers either? Is he not Pater
Patri[ae]? I command you, madam, lay the letter on the board."
Arabella did so with a trembling hand; and one of the Councillors
handed it to the King, who took it and examined it closely.
"It cannot have been falsified," he said, "for the seal is not
broken."
He then, without ceremony, opened it, and read aloud, making his usual
comments as he did so.
"'My sweet niece,'" it proceeded, "'your good aunt and I are about
soon to go to our place called Malvoisy, in Buckinghamshire; and we
would fain have you with us, if you can get the King's permission to
come, not as much for our own sakes, to have the company of an idle
girl, whom we do not love, as for yours, to get you out of the foul
and unsavoury atmosphere of a court, where, from all we hear, you are
likely to be quite corrupted by bad example."
"Heard you ever the like of that?" cried the King, laughing till the
tears ran over his cheeks.
"'I do not know,'" he proceeded, reading Lord Shrewsbury's letter,
"'whether you, too, my niece, were as drunk as the rest at Theobalds.
I hope not; for if you were, your head must have ached the next
morning; but I do hear that his Majesty of Denmark emptied two pottles
and a half of heavy Burgundy after the repast, and our great King the
same.'
"The false loon!" cried the King, with a tremendous oath, "I declare,
he's like a dishonest tapster, and put down three gills too much to my
score. But we will see farther," and he went on to read,--"'and our
great King the same. But happily for the State, his brains are too
good to swim with any quantity of wine; and so he 'scaped falling,
though I hear, in the contest, Burgundy overthrew Denmark. However, if
you would come with us, and live in quiet for a time, seeing none but
your aunt and me, wheedle his Majesty, as you know how, and join us
here to-morrow or the next day. I shall send this by Sir John
Harrington--that merry soul. Yours, as you shall behave yourself,
'SHREWSBURY.'
"'Postscriptum. William Seymour has just come in; and he goes down to
Hampton Court to-morrow;--I give him charge of this letter.'
"Ha!" cried the King, "by my soul, though he puts his fingers somewhat
too near Majesty, he knows how to do so with distinctions, this good
Earl of Shrewsbury; and a wise and sapient man he is, if he had but a
little knowledge of the Greek tongue, in respect of which he is
illiterate, as I once proved. But of that more hereafter. I cannot but
say, lady, that it might be as well for you to accept your uncle's
invitation."
"I shall do so most willingly, your Majesty," replied Arabella, "and
the more, from the perfect solitude he promises me. The Court has been
so thronged of late, that I feel as if I had been living in a crowd,
and shall be glad to see the air thinner of human beings."
"Well, so shall it be then," said James; "and you shall have our full
leave and royal permission to spend a fortnight, or perchance a month,
with your good uncle at his manor at Malvoisy. But before either of
you depart, remember, for the future, that we will have no love
passages.--Ay, madam, you may redden, but we may know more than
perhaps we choose to say. We have our own views with regard to the
disposal of your hand, which shall be announced to you in due time;
and we shall expect to find you duly obedient and complying. You, sir,
too, will understand us; and if you proceed farther with any follies
you may have gotten into your head, you will incur our heavy
displeasure, which is not a light matter for any man to bear. So be
wise, if wisdom can enter into so young a pate. Now you may retire,
sir."
Seymour bowed, and withdrew; and, to say the truth, had not the matter
so much affected his happiness, he might have inclined to laugh at the
reprimand of the King. James's broad Scottish accent, which sounded
uncouth enough in his moments of uproarious jocularity, became even
more ludicrous when delivering any of his solemn harangues, especially
as he had an inveterate habit of interlarding, even his most studied
sentences, with the peculiar idioms and phraseology of his own nation,
and with illustrations often the most homely and absurd--and often the
most profane, not to say blasphemous. To these we cannot attempt to do
justice; but it is well known that the sudden utterance of such words
and figures, in the midst of an oration delivered with mock majesty
and solemnity, has overset the gravity, even of an indignant House of
Commons, and caused the members to shrink behind each other, lest
their laughter should be too apparent.
Arabella remained before the Council, in anxious expectation of what
was to come next; but, much to her gratification, as the King was
commencing a long admonition, he was drawn away by some word which he
himself made use of--we believe it was _callant_--to enter into a
tedious discussion upon the derivation thereof, which occupied him for
the space of nearly twenty minutes, at the end of which time he
dismissed her, without returning to the original subject.
Retiring gladly to her own chamber, the lady gave way to the feelings
she had feared to display before the eyes of the heartless monarch and
his cold councillors. The storm had passed away for the time, but it
left clouds behind it; and though she felt relieved, there was enough
of agitation and apprehension remaining to bring the tears into her
eyes.