Chapter V: Part 5

Not very long before the death of Queen Elizabeth, she being then in failing health, and much depressed in mind, after the execution of her favourite, Her Majesty received a message from the Countess of Nottingham (one of the ladies of her household, and a connection of her own), to say that she lay a-dying, but that she had something on her mind which she would fain impart to the Queen before her death. Elizabeth lost no time in repairing to the house of the Earl of Nottingham, and taking her place by the sufferer’s bedside, listened to the following confession. When Lord Essex lay under sentence of death, he bethought himself of the Queen’s present, and the promise which accompanied it, and he began to devise means how to send it to his royal mistress. He dared not trust any one near him, but watching from the window, he perceived a boy, whose appearance inspired him with confidence. He contrived to get speech of him, and induced him, by means of money and promises, to be the bearer of the ring, which he drew from his finger and intrusted to him. The Earl’s injunctions were that it should be carried to his friend Lady Scrope, (one of the royal household, and sister to the Lady Nottingham,) with the earnest request that she would present it to the Queen.

The boy, by some unfortunate mistake, carried the ring to the Countess of Nottingham, who immediately consulted her husband on the subject. It is further said (although it may appear inconsistent with the character of the gallant sailor for generosity) that he peremptorily forbade his wife to undertake the mission, or to interfere in the matter. Yet we are also told that on the downfall of Essex, Lord Nottingham evinced the greatest friendship for the man with whom he had once been at enmity, visiting him in prison, and the like. Certain it is that the lady whose conscience was so ill at rest, screened herself under the prohibition of her husband, who, she added, insisted on her keeping the ring, and returning no answer to the unfortunate captive. The secret being divulged, the dying woman entreated the Queen to pardon her. The answer she gave is well known: ‘God may forgive you, but I never can;’ and she left the room in a fury.

Strange, if she believed that Lord Nottingham was in fault, that Her Majesty should not only forgive him, but keep him constantly in her presence, in her last days, (for she did not survive this scene above a fortnight,) talking with him on matters of the greatest importance, and sometimes accepting nourishment and medicine from his hand, which she would refuse from that of others.

Lady Nottingham died soon after the stormy interview with the Queen, having borne two sons and three daughters to her husband. It would appear that the cause of the doubt and perplexity which have been thrown over the romantic story of the Essex ring, can be accounted for in this manner: The fact is there were two historical rings, and the Carey family were connected with both, as also, to make the confusion more complete, the name of Lady Scrope, born Carey, is mixed up with both.

When Queen Elizabeth was dying, Robert Carey, Earl of Monmouth, was stationed on horseback under the window, and no sooner was the Queen’s last breath expended, than a lady (said to be Lady Scrope) threw a ring from the window, with which Monmouth rode post-haste to Scotland, it being a pledge agreed upon between King James and a member of Elizabeth’s Court, to inform him, betimes, of the death of the English Queen. This ring is a sapphire, and in the possession of the Earl of Cork and Orrery, to whom it descended by inheritance.

Two rings, both secret pledges, and with both of which the names of Queen Elizabeth and Lady Scrope are connected, it no longer appears strange that confusion and perplexity should have arisen on the subject. The ring in the possession of Lord John Thynne has a gold hoop of delicate workmanship engraved, and relieved with blue enamel. The centre is an onyx, with a cameo head of Queen Elizabeth, a perfect likeness, in relief, and is surmised to have been the work of Valerio Vincentino, an Italian artist of great merit, who executed several works of the kind, for the Queen, Lord Burghley, and others. There is no record to inform us how this ring returned into the possession of the Devereux family. But it seems more than likely that Lady Nottingham, or her husband, may have bequeathed or restored it to the rightful owners. It descended to the present possessor in unbroken succession from the Duchess of Somerset, Frances Devereux, Essex’s daughter, who was grandmother to the first Lady Weymouth.

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No. 79.

SIR HENRY SIDNEY.

_Full length. Black dress. White ruff. High hat on table._

HE was the son of Sir William Sidney, Chamberlain to Henry VIII., and was born at Penshurst, a royal grant from Edward VI. to the family.

Henry became the bosom friend of the young King, who knighted him, and sent him as Ambassador to France when only twenty-one. Sir Henry was much admired and esteemed at the Courts of France and England. His friend, King Edward, expired in his arms. He also found favour in the eyes of Queen Mary, after whose husband he named his son Philip. She made him Vice-Treasurer and general governor of the royal revenues in Ireland, also Lord Deputy of that country, where his administration was more than commonly popular, considering the state of the times. In the reign of Elizabeth he was appointed Lord President of Wales, and he placed his son Philip at school at Shrewsbury, so as to be near him. The boy was delicate in health, and extant letters prove his father’s tender solicitude for the bodily and mental education of his first-born. Sir Henry Sidney married Lady Mary Dudley, the daughter of the Duke of Northumberland—a woman of ‘rare merit.’ Later on in years, when leading ‘a quiet and contented life at home,’ a proposal was made to him to resume the government of Ireland, on which subject he consulted his son Philip: would he accompany him with the hope of succeeding to the post when he should vacate it? etc. etc., but he made so many stipulations and conditions to the Queen, dependent on his acceptance, that the matter fell through, probably from the fact of Elizabeth declining to be dictated to, though here we speak without book. Sir Henry Sidney shone in domestic as in public life, and his wife was worthy of her husband. They both died in 1586, within a few months of each other, Sir Henry being buried at Penshurst, though his heart was lodged at Ludlow.

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No. 80.

SIR WALTER RALEIGH.

BY ZUCCHERO.

BORN 1552, EXECUTED 1618.

_Full length. White and scarlet dress. Scarlet garters and rosettes.
Brown
trunk hose. White hat. Ruff and sash._

HE was the younger son of Walter Raleigh, Esq. of Cornwood, near Plymouth, by his third wife, daughter of Sir Philip Champernon, and widow of Otho Gilbert.

At sixteen Walter went to Oriel College for a year, and left it with a good character for study. In 1569 he became a volunteer in a troop raised by a relative, Henry Champernon, attached to the expedition which Elizabeth was sending out to the relief of the Huguenots in France. He was engaged in this campaign five years, and in 1577 he served in the Low Countries; in the following year he embarked with his half-brother, Sir Humphrey Gilbert, who had obtained a patent from the Queen, to colonise North America. This expedition failed. The English were attacked, and defeated on the high seas by a superior force of Spaniards.

On Raleigh’s return to England he found that an insurrection had just broken out in Ireland; thither he proceeded, and soon gave token not only of his courage, but of his capacity for military command.

He was shortly afterwards appointed to the joint government of Munster, and to that of Cork. In 1581, there being a lull in Ireland, he returned to England. It would appear that he was bent on making his way at Court, and we all know, and most of us believe, the story of his flinging down his velvet cloak before his royal mistress, that she might step across the mire, likewise his writing with a diamond on a window-pane, which would necessarily attract Elizabeth’s attention:—

‘Fain would I climb, but fear to fall.’

The tale goes on to say that the Queen wrote underneath,

‘If thy heart fail thee, climb not at all.’

We hope to be excused for alluding to stories which, if ‘fables,’ are at least characteristic of the times.

In 1583 he appeared before the Privy Council to plead his cause in the matter of a difference that had occurred between him and Lord (Deputy) Grey de Wilton, when they were together in Ireland.

On this occasion, says Sir Robert Naunton, ‘what advantage Raleigh had in the controversy I know not; but he had much the better in the telling of his tale, inasmuch as the Queen and the Lords took no slight mark of the man, for from thenceforth he came to be known, and have access to the Lords,’ etc. etc. Naunton goes on to say, ‘that he does not know if Lord Leicester had recommended him to her Majesty, but true it is, Raleigh had gotten the Queen’s ear at a trice, and she began to be taken with his eloquence, and loved to hear his reasons to her demands, and in truth, she took him for a kind of oracle, which nettled them all.’

Raleigh, whose whole soul was bent on enterprise, made use of his favour at Court to enable him to prosecute his maritime discoveries. In 1583—in a ship he had, however, manned and victualled at his own expense, and named after himself—in company with his brother, he sailed for Newfoundland. But they were again unfortunate; as Gilbert was returning to England he was lost, with two of his ships.

Yet Raleigh’s heart never ‘did fail him,’ and the following year he obtained a grant from Queen and Council, ‘free liberty to discover remote and barbarous lands.’

He proceeded to Florida, discovered and colonised Virginia, and for several years prosecuted his voyages, discoveries, and colonisations, all of which belong to the record of naval history.

In 1584 he was knighted, and honours and dignities of all kinds bestowed on him, together with good estates from the Queen.

At Sherborne, county Dorset, he built ‘a fine house, with gardens and groves of much variety and delight.’ Notwithstanding all the favours he received at her hands, Raleigh never truckled to Elizabeth, and although she often fell out with him, she invariably in the end listened to her loyal but independent subject.

He was always ready to intercede for others, and one day, when asking a service for a friend, the Queen said, ‘When, Sir Walter, will you cease to be a beggar?’

‘When your Majesty ceases to be beneficent,’ was the reply. But he fell into disgrace at Court when Elizabeth found out that he was too high in the good graces of one of her own maids of honour, and although he married the lady, (Mistress Elizabeth Throckmorton, daughter of Sir Nicholas of Beddington, county Surrey,) yet the lovers were imprisoned for some months in the Tower.

Voyages innumerable, fresh projects of colonisation followed, but unfortunately in two expeditions the Earl of Essex had the chief command, and he and Raleigh had a deadly quarrel. On their return it was continued, and there can be little doubt Raleigh hated and worked against Essex, at a time when there were many intrigues going on, to get rid of the Queen’s unfortunate favourite. More honours, more places of trust, were bestowed on Raleigh. In 1600 he went Ambassador to France, and soon after was named Governor of Jersey; in fact, while Elizabeth lived, she never swerved in her friendship, but on her death, Cecil, who was Raleigh’s enemy, undermined his favour with James, who received him ungraciously, and dismissed him from the offices he held.

Sir Walter, on discovering his secret foe, tried to impress on the King’s mind that Cecil had been instrumental in the execution of his mother, but this made no difference in his Majesty’s demeanour, and only insured the minister’s bitter hatred. So commenced Raleigh’s downfall. He was accused, with several other noblemen, of a plot to place Arabella Stuart on the throne, tried for high treason, and in spite of deficiency of evidence, in spite of his gallant defence, he was found guilty by a shameful jury, for even Coke, the Attorney-General, who, we are told, made ‘brutal speeches,’ on the trial, exclaimed, when informed of the verdict, (not being in Court at the time,) ‘Surely thou art mistaken, for I only accused him of misprision of treason.’

Sir Walter remained at Winchester under sentence of death for a month, during which time he appealed to the justice and mercy, of a King who was devoid of both. He was reprieved, and sent to the Tower, where they held that noble spirit captive for twelve years. He occupied his melancholy hours with works which would have sufficed to make his name immortal, had it not already become so by ‘his hairbreadth ‘scapes, and moving accidents by flood and field.’

It having been made worth his while, Villiers Duke of Buckingham interceded for Raleigh’s release, and he was accordingly liberated in 1616.

Stripped of all his possessions, and cast entirely on his own resources, the gallant knight once more embarked for Guiana, James, in the hope of wealth accruing to himself, granted him a commission, as Admiral.

But on his arrival he found he had been betrayed to the Spaniards, who were drawn up against him in great numbers. ‘Never,’ he says himself, ‘was poor man more exposed to the slaughter as I was.’ Information was sent to the King of Spain; the cowardly and cruel James, terrified at the prospect of a rupture with that monarch, issued a proclamation setting forth that he had forbid Raleigh to enter on any hostilities, and threatening severe punishment.

The brave, enterprising, noble-minded sailor returned to England, his heart bowed down with sorrow, for the loss of his first-born, who had died on the field of battle.

He was arrested on his road to London, made two ineffectual attempts to escape, and was once more closely imprisoned in the Tower; he was brought to the bar of the King’s Bench, and demanded why the former sentence should not be held good against him. His defence was a model of manly eloquence, but it did not avail him, and he was beheaded in Old Palace Yard, Westminster, the 29th of October 1618.

By Elizabeth his wife he had two sons—one killed in South America, and the other, Carew, who bought an estate called West Horsley, in Surrey, where, as tradition goes, he kept his father’s head, and in consequence gained for the quaint old house the reputation of being haunted.

Sir Walter Raleigh, according to his portraits, merits Sir Robert Naunton’s description of him: ‘He was of a good presence and well-compacted person. He had a strong natural wit, and was an indefatigable reader both when at sea and on land.’

He was also remarkable for great magnificence in dress, he tilted in silver armour, with a belt of diamonds, pearls, and rubies, and his retinue was most costly. In the portrait before us his costume is certainly elaborate.

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No. 81.

CATHERINE OF BRAGANZA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND,
WIFE OF CHARLES II.

BY SIR PETER LELY.

BORN 1638, DIED 1705.

_Full length. Seated. Black dress. Jewels. Mantle lined with ermine.
Crown on the table beside her._

SHE was the only daughter of the Duke of Braganza, afterwards Juan IV., King of Portugal, by Luisa de Guzman, daughter of the Duke of Medina Sidonia. Catherine died childless.

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No. 82.

CHARLES II., KING OF ENGLAND.

BY SIR PETER LELY.

BORN 1630, RESTORED 1660, DIED 1685.

_Full length. Seated. Crimson robes. Mantle. Collar of the Garter.
Long flowing wig._

HE was the eldest son of Charles I., by Henrietta Maria of France. Married Catherine of Braganza, by whom he had no children.

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No. 83.

PETER PAUL RUBENS, WIFE, AND CHILD.

BY HIMSELF.

BORN 1577, DIED 1640.

_Both seated. He is in a black dress, reading; his wife in a red gown,
blue
mantle. The child standing on her lap._

THE family of Rubens was of noble Styrian origin. The father of the illustrious painter settled in Antwerp about the time of the coronation of Charles V., Emperor of Germany. He became a magistrate, and married Maria de Pipelingue of that city; but the religious differences, which were then very fierce, determined him (being a Roman Catholic) to quit Antwerp, and take up his abode at Cologne, where many children were born to him, the youngest of whom was Peter Paul, of world-wide fame.

On the death of Rubens the elder, the widow returned with her family to her native city. She placed her youngest son as page in the house of the Countess de Lalain, a noble lady, destining him at a later period for the magistrature; but neither of these vocations pleased the youth’s fancy, whose decided bias for art soon declared itself. He had some difficulty in overcoming his mother’s repugnance to the profession he had chosen, but she loved him too well to be obdurate. He began his studies as a painter in the school of Adam van Oort, a man of brutal manners, who soon disgusted the fine taste and good feeling of young Rubens. His next instructor was Otho Venius, but the pupil soon threw both masters into the shade.

Rubens now commenced his travels, to Venice first, and to Mantua, where the reigning Duke showed him the greatest favour, gave him a place at Court, appointed him Painter-in-Ordinary, and intrusted him with a diplomatic mission to Philip III. of Spain.

Our painter afterwards visited Rome, and all the principal cities of Italy, working as he went on all subjects, religious, historical, mythological, and making splendid portraits, gaining in fact golden opinions from Popes, Princes, and Potentates.

When at Genoa he heard of the dangerous illness of his mother, to whom he was tenderly attached; he started immediately for Antwerp, but the news of her death arrested him on the road, and he went into retreat near Brussels, to nurse his grief, design a monument to her memory, and write her epitaph.

The Governor of the Low Countries, the Archduke Albert, and his wife Isabella, who admired the painter, and esteemed the man, did all they could to fix him at their Court in Brussels. They gave him a pension and the key of Chamberlain, and showed him marked proofs of a friendship which proved lasting, but Rubens preferred returning to Antwerp, where he could pursue his art with less interruption. Here he built a splendid house, and formed a noble collection of pictures, which he sold afterwards to the Duke of Buckingham, with whom he became intimate at Paris. He was summoned to the French capital by Marie de Medicis, and executed for her the well-known decorations of the Luxembourg. His superb talent, his handsome person, his acquaintance with dead and living languages, and his noble and genial disposition, made Rubens welcome in every country, and with every class. He proceeded to England, ostensibly to paint portraits, but in reality to negotiate a peace between the Courts of Madrid and London, and we are told how discreetly and warily he entered on his mission, while Charles I. was sitting for his picture. The King took the greatest delight in the society of Rubens, loaded him with princely gifts, knighted him in Parliament, (an especial honour,) presenting him on the occasion with a sword set in diamonds; and when the new Knight took leave, Charles hung his own miniature round the painter’s neck, which Rubens wore till his death. He was now constantly employed in diplomatic missions of all kinds, and appears almost always to have been successful; he made Antwerp his headquarters, usually giving the preference during a pressure of work to the orders of his own countrymen, particularly as regarded religious fraternities.

His zeal was unwearied; there is scarcely a town in Flanders that is not enriched by his glorious talent. He loved literature, and while busy at his easel, would employ a secretary to read aloud to him, generally selecting some portion of the classics. He lived well, without excess of any kind, but had always a love for beautiful surroundings. He was an excellent horseman, and took great interest in the breeding of horses; but he had a taste for more serious avocations also, and delighted in presiding over the education of his children. He was twice married, first to Isabella Brant, whose charming portrait, sitting on the ground by her husband’s side, holding his hand, is in the Pinakothek at Munich. His second wife was the beautiful Helena Forman, whose lovely smiling face, and full rounded form greet us in every gallery in Europe, sometimes alone, sometimes with a blooming little child beside her. Rubens made her his model, and painted her in every shape, and in every costume, and frequently without any costume at all.

By his first marriage he had two sons, to the eldest of whom the Archduke Albert stood sponsor, and gave his own name; by the second he had several children.

Marie de Medicis, in her last exile from France, went to Cologne, bought Rubens’s house, and died there. For some time before his death he was a martyr to the gout, which at length proved fatal; he lies buried in the church of St. James, at Antwerp, where his widow caused one of his most beautiful pictures to be placed.

He painted himself as St. George presenting his two wives to the Madonna, who carries the Holy Child in her arms.

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No. 84.

JOHN FISHER, BISHOP OF ROCHESTER.

BORN 1455, EXECUTED 1535.

_Ecclesiastical robes._

BORN at Beverley, in Yorkshire, but little is known of his early years; having taken his degree at Cambridge, he was appointed confessor to Margaret, Countess of Richmond, (mother of King Henry VII.), by whom he was much esteemed, and over whose mind he gained a powerful influence, which he exerted for no selfish ends.

By his advice and co-operation this Princess, after founding the Colleges of St. John’s and Christ’s at Cambridge, collected famous Professors from all parts, to be members of the same. The University was not ungrateful to Fisher for the part he had taken in the aggrandisement of Cambridge, and elected him Chancellor in 1504. The King (Henry VII.) preferred him to the See of Rochester, and it is said by some that he was made preceptor to Prince Henry (afterwards the Eighth). Certain it is that that Prince after his accession was very partial to the Bishop, and showed him much favour.

Until the question arose of the divorce of Catherine of Aragon, to which step Fisher was strenuously opposed on every account, he was personally much attached to the Queen, and his creed as a Roman Catholic caused him to deny the validity of such a proceeding. He was also loud in his disapprobation of the King’s assumption of spiritual supremacy. It cannot be wondered at, under these circumstances, that Fisher should fall into thorough disgrace at Court, or that Henry (who could not bear to be thwarted) should catch at any pretext to persecute him. Added to all this, Fisher became mixed up in the affair of the ‘Holy Maid of Kent,’ as she was called, which plunged him into further trouble. His goods having been confiscated, he was imprisoned during the King’s good pleasure in the Tower of London, whence he was only released on the payment of a heavy fine.

It will be remembered that the ‘Holy Maid of Kent’ (an impostor) pretended to be possessed of the gift of prophecy, and was made an instrument by some Roman Catholic priests to denounce the doctrines of the Reformed religion, and to predict a violent death within one month for Henry, should he proceed with the divorce suit against the Queen. The unfortunate woman suffered death with some of her upholders, and most assuredly her predictions were not verified. Henry, exasperated by Fisher’s determined refusal to acknowledge him as head of the Church, once more sent the venerable ecclesiastic to the Tower as a rebel, and when there, in spite of his age and position, Fisher was treated with shameful indignity. They stripped him of his priestly garments, and dressed him in scanty rags. But the old man had a dauntless spirit. He had already been captive for a year, when the Pope, Paul III., hearing of his sufferings, chiefly on account of his creed, intimated to him that he should be raised to the grade of a Cardinal, a fatal step as far as Fisher was concerned. The King, in a fury, forbade the Hat to be brought into his dominions, and he sent Thomas Cromwell to the Tower to inquire whether Fisher intended to accept it. The brave old man replied it was his duty to accept the honour done him by His Holiness, but he had neither solicited nor desired it, and such was his indifference to all human grandeur, that if the Hat were lying on the floor, he would not even stoop to pick it up.

The King was transported with rage when he learned the details of the interview, and cried out, ‘Let the Pope send it then, and it shall be placed on John Fisher’s shoulders, for by the mother of God, I will not leave him a head to carry it.’ This cruel word was kept; the captive was tried by corrupt judges, creatures of the tyrant, condemned, and beheaded immediately after his trial. Fisher was remarkable for his erudition, his knowledge of Holy Writ, and the writings of the Fathers.

He was likewise an eminent controversialist, and his argumentative writings against Luther and the doctrines of the Reformation made a great noise on the Continent. Yet he was honoured even by his opponents, and Erasmus spoke in the highest terms of his integrity and the purity of his life. The cruelty to which he was subjected roused the indignation of many writers, and there is more than one foreign as well as English biography of this learned and good man. He was deeply attached to his See of Rochester, and although, when in favour in high places, he had the offer more than once of translation to other dignities of a more lucrative nature, he refused to leave his beloved cathedral. ‘Is she not my dear wife?’ he was wont to say, ‘and how then can I separate myself from my spouse?’

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No. 85.

HENRY FITZALAN, EARL OF ARUNDEL.

BY HOLBEIN.

BORN 1512, DIED 1579-80.

_Black dress. Gold buttons. Gold chain. Ermine cape._

HE was the only son of William the seventeenth Earl of Arundel, by Anne, daughter of Henry Percy, fourth Earl of Northumberland, and succeeded to the title and estates when about thirty years of age, until which time he had lived apart from public life.

In 1544 he accompanied Henry VIII. to Boulogne, which Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, was then besieging. With the wonderful precipitancy which characterised the period, Arundel suddenly found himself raised to the grade of Field-Marshal in the English army. Nor was the choice misplaced, for a manœuvre on his part carried the town, which he was the first to enter by a breach, at the head of his troops.

The King, delighted with the success of the undertaking, granted Lord Arundel the government of Calais, and subsequently the Comptrollership of the royal household.

Not long after, Arundel was appointed one of the Commissioners to negotiate a treaty with the Scots, when it so happened that the terms proposed were distasteful to the King, although unanimously approved by his Ministers. Henry sent no less a person than William Cecil (afterwards Secretary) to tell Arundel that whatever he (the King) might write by letter, his royal pleasure was that the treaty should be broken.

Cecil demurred, but was ordered off to Scotland.

Whatever impartial opinions may decide as to the honesty of the proceeding, Arundel gained the King’s approbation, insomuch as he followed his master’s injunctions, and that with so much discretion as to take the _onus_ upon himself. Henry defended him when censured by the Government, ordered his pardon to be drawn up, and not only made him Lord Chamberlain, but named him one of the guardians to his successor, the youthful Edward.

After some attempts to remain or appear neutral during the struggle for power between the Protector Somerset and the Earl of Warwick, Arundel at length joined the party of the latter nobleman, and was chosen one of the six Lords intrusted with the custody of the King’s person. We are told that he was ‘circumspect and slow,’ and ‘a man of integrity.’ Such a character was not likely to be acceptable to Warwick; Lord Arundel was deprived of his Chamberlain’s staff and his seat at the Privy Council, and some frivolous accusations were brought against him, on the strength of which he was sent to the Tower. He was, moreover, subjected to a heavy fine, and banished into the country.

‘Doubtless,’ says Sir John Hayward, ‘the Earl of Warwick had good reason to suspect that they who had the honesty to disapprove his purpose, would not want the heart to oppose it.’

Arundel remained on his own estates till the King’s death, when he came forward as a zealous supporter of Mary’s claim to the Crown. At a meeting of the friends of that Princess he made a most stirring and impressive speech, nor did he lose the opportunity thus offered him of attacking the Duke of Northumberland (the Earl of Warwick) for his conduct, past and present, namely, his disloyalty in the reign of Edward, and his actual treason in setting up his daughter-in-law, Jane Grey, as Queen.

Arundel took upon himself to make promises to the Protestants in Mary’s name which she unfortunately did not fulfil. But his speech was received with such enthusiasm that at its conclusion the whole assembly escorted the speaker to the city, and summoning the Lord Mayor and Aldermen, proceeded then and there to proclaim Mary Tudor Queen of these realms. Lord Arundel immediately took horse and rode down into Suffolk to announce in person to Mary herself the success of the exertions made in her behalf, and at Cambridge he arrested his old enemy, the Duke of Northumberland, and led him a prisoner to the Tower of London.

These proceedings only occupied three days, and were completed by the 21st of July 1553. The Queen was becomingly grateful; she made Arundel, Steward of her household and President of her Council.

In 1558 he was elected Chancellor of the University of Oxford, but in 1560 was obliged to resign that dignity on account of his creed, when the Protestant faith was re-established. In spite, however, of the difference of their religious views, Queen Elizabeth treated Lord Arundel with marked distinction, continued him in his office of Lord Steward, and named him, in addition, High Constable and High Steward of England at her coronation.

He appears to have thought himself higher in the good graces of the royal coquette, than was actually the case, and finding himself somewhat slighted by her and by other friends at Court, we are told he grew ‘troubled in mind, and to wear off his grief, asked leave to travel.’

Accordingly, he went abroad, returned for a short time, and then repaired to Italy, where he resided for some years. He contracted ‘a great fondness for foreign fashions,’ and on coming home introduced many, and in particular the use of coaches, the first known in England being the property of the Earl of Arundel.

He remained unemployed until the year 1569, when he was named one of the Commissioners to inquire into the murder of Henry Darnley, King of Scots. He pleaded Mary’s cause, (believing firmly in her innocence,) and spoke out boldly in her behalf to Elizabeth herself, at the Council table when he considered the proceedings unjust. He never failed in his loyalty to the English Queen, although the intercourse he held with ‘Mary’s friends,’ as they were called, rendered him an object of distrust.

In 1572 he suffered a brief imprisonment in the Tower, and on his release found he had forfeited the royal favour, which he did not go the right way to regain, by his resolute opposition to the proposed marriage with the Duke of Anjou.

He continued in retirement until the beginning of the year 1580, when, 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?