says Camden, ‘Henry Fitzalan, Earl of Arundel, rendered his soul to
God—in whom was extinct the surname of this most noble family, which had
flourished with great honour for three hundred years and more’—from the
time, indeed, of Richard Fitzalan, who, in the reign of Edward I.,
received the title of Earl of Arundel without any creation, from being
possessed of the castle and lordship of Arundel, in Sussex. Henry
married, first, Catherine Grey, daughter of Thomas, second Marquis of
Dorset, (and aunt to Jane Grey,) by whom he had three children, who all
died before their father, viz.:—
Henry, died unmarried at Brussels; Joan, married to John Lord Lumley;
and Mary, the wife of Thomas Duke of Norfolk, in right of whose descent
the present Duke of Norfolk enjoys the title of Earl of Arundel. Henry
Fitzalan’s second wife was Mary, daughter of Sir John Arundel of
Lanherne, county Cornwall, by whom he had no children.
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No. 86.
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 Henry VIII. and Edward VI. 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.
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No. 87.
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, (Henry VIII.’s sister,) married
twice, first James IV., 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 James I., 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
earldom of 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’s daughter, 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
by _good_ Queen 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, (Henry IV. 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 the face, 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 bid the 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 great disgust 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 the lovers 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
besought her 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.