GREAT STAIRCASE.

145GREAT STAIRCASE.

No. 77.

GEORGE VILLIERS, SECOND DUKE OF

BUCKINGHAM.

By Sir Peter Lely.

BORN 1627, DIED 1688.

Steel cuirass. Buff leather coat. Black and white sleeves. One hand

resting on a helmet. Red plume.

HE was the second son of the first Duke of Buckingham, (of the Villiers family,) by Catherine, daughter and sole heir of Francis Manners, sixth Earl of Rutland. No sooner did Charles I. learn the news of the murder of his friend (the first Duke) than he hastened to the residence of the sorrowing widow, to pay her a visit of condolence; the little Duke being then but an infant, and his mother expecting her confinement. The King, much touched by her sad position, said all he could to comfort her, and promised to be a father to her children; nor did he forget to fulfil the self-imposed trust. At the proper age, George Villiers was sent to Cambridge, and afterwards to travel abroad, accompanied by his brother Francis, under the care of a tutor provided for them by their royal guardian. On the 146breaking out of the civil war the two youths returned to England, and hastened to proffer their services to their Sovereign, a proceeding which brought down upon them the vengeance of the Parliament. Their property was confiscated, but in consideration of their youth the estates and revenues were soon restored to them. Poverty was ill suited to the splendid tastes, and profuse style of living, which characterised the Duke, on his second trip abroad, or indeed wherever he went, and in later life he was in constant pecuniary difficulties.

The war broke out afresh between Charles and his subjects; he was a prisoner in the Isle of Wight, when the loyal brothers returned home, and joined the Royalist army, under the Earl of Holland, who had unfurled his standard in the county of Surrey. Lord Holland was quartered at Kingston-on-Thames, and it was on the 11th of July 1648 that Lord Francis Villiers, ‘after performing prodigies of valour,’ was killed in a skirmish with the Parliamentarians near Nonsuch, to the sincere regret of his comrades and the inexpressible grief of his brother. ‘He was a youth,’ says Clarendon, ‘of rare beauty and comeliness of person.’

The expedition proved most disastrous; Lord Holland himself was taken prisoner shortly after, near St. Neot’s, and beheaded, the Duke of Buckingham narrowly escaping the same fate. He contrived to conceal himself, but one morning, finding the house in which he lay, surrounded by a troop of the enemy’s cavalry (with the dashing bravery which always characterised him), he leaped on his horse, and followed by one faithful servant, cut his way through the troopers, killing the officer in command, and gained the sea-shore, where he joined the Prince of Wales, who was on board a vessel lying in the Downs. A proclamation was issued by the Parliament, to the effect that if the Duke did not return in forty days, his property would a second time be forfeited.

Buckingham stood the test, and remained faithful to his 147allegiance. He lived for some time on the proceeds of a sale of magnificent pictures bequeathed to him by the Duke, his father (the chief part once the property of Rubens), which he disposed of at Antwerp. He remained abroad for some time, but accompanied his King on the expedition to Scotland, and after the battle of Worcester had another of his ‘hair-breadth ‘scapes,’ almost as miraculous as that of his royal master.

After leaving the King concealed in Boscobel House, the Duke, with other Royalist nobles, rode northward, and were intercepted by a body of Roundheads (who took many of them prisoners). Buckingham, according to his wont, escaped, by the aid of some friendly labourers and workmen, with one of whom he changed habits, and was concealed in a wood. He afterwards went from one house in the neighbourhood to another, and again made his way to the Continent in safety, first to Holland, and then to France, where he gained fresh laurels by his conduct at the sieges of Arras and Valenciennes.

Buckingham now resolved on a bold and daring step. The Parliament had awarded the chief part of his estates and revenues to General Lord Fairfax, but this noble-minded man had already set apart a considerable portion for the service of the widowed Duchess; and the Duke (although an outlaw) deemed it politic to return to England and appeal to the further generosity of ‘my Lord Fairfax.’ He repaired, then, forthwith to the home of his ancestors, ingratiated himself not only into the favourable feelings of the father, but still more into those of the daughter.

The handsome and irresistible George Villiers was not likely to sue long in vain; he proposed, was accepted, and became the son-in-law of the man who was in possession of his rent-roll. Cromwell, on hearing of the marriage, was exasperated beyond measure, and the Duke was again forced to go into hiding. Most likely this was not difficult, surrounded 148by his own tenantry, with the assistance of a loving bride; but he was rash, and doubtless trusted to his own talent for evading danger; and so one day, riding to visit his sister in the neighbourhood, he was waylaid, taken prisoner, and carried off to the Tower.

Fairfax, already disgusted with many of Cromwell’s proceedings, was furious, and expressed himself boldly. But the Protector was not one to listen patiently to any strictures on his own conduct, and laughed the General to scorn. Fortunately for the captive, Cromwell did not survive much longer, and on the abdication of Richard Cromwell the Duke regained his liberty. At the Restoration he was marked out for favour by the King, to whose fortunes he had been so faithful; he was made Lord-in-Waiting, Lord-Lieutenant of York, Master of the Horse, etc. etc. But his restless and intriguing spirit led him into many dangerous plots, so much so that in 1666 he was deprived of all his offices, and summoned to take his trial. The King came to the rescue, and caused him to be reinstated in many of his posts. Buckingham joined Lord Shaftesbury against Clarendon, became President of the Council, and his initial, as is well known, stood for the third letter of ‘Cabal.’

In 1670 he was sent Ambassador to the King of France, ostensibly to condole with him on the death of the Duchess of Orleans, but in reality with the project of breaking ‘The Triple Alliance.’ About this time there was an attempt on the life of the Duke of Ormonde by one Blood, and Lord Ossory (Ormonde’s son) accused the Duke of Buckingham of being an accomplice of the villain. His plea was that his father was a friend of Lord Clarendon’s, to whom Buckingham had vowed deadly enmity, but the charge soon fell to the ground.

Buckingham was one of the Plenipotentiaries (with the Earl of Arlington and others) to Holland, but the negotiations 149with which they were intrusted, failed. The Cabal breaking up, the Duke once more found himself accused of many heavy charges,—of treasonable correspondence with the King’s enemies, and the like.

He also made himself obnoxious to his royal master by the part he took respecting the Test Bill, and above all, by maintaining that the King had exceeded his royal prerogative in proroguing the Parliament for a longer time than was legal. He was sent to the Tower, and when once more liberated, mixed himself up (with a restlessness he doubtless called patriotism) in fresh plots and cabals. On the death of Charles II., the Duke of Buckingham, well aware that he could not expect the same indulgence from King James as from his predecessor, retired to the country (being in failing health at the time), and gave himself up to literary occupations and the sports of the field. One day, while intent on unearthing a fox, he was imprudent enough to sit for some time on the damp ground, in consequence of which he caught a chill that proved fatal in three days. His wife, who long survived him, was a most exemplary woman, who loved him in spite of his numerous and flagrant infidelities. They had no children, and the title became extinct.

The witty, handsome, profligate Duke of Buckingham is a well-known acquaintance to all readers, both of history and fiction. His manners were genial, even captivating; his anger or revenge generally vented itself in pointed satires or pungent bon-mots. Dryden immortalised him as Zimri in ‘Absalom and Achitophel.’ Pope drew his portrait in the Moral Essays (Epist. iii.); his love for astrology and alchemy helped him to squander his living, but all his tastes were extravagant. His comedy of ‘The Rehearsal’ (in which, however, he is supposed to have been much assisted by friends) made a great noise, and his delineation of Dryden under the character of Bayes was much admired.

150

No. 78.

CATHERINE CAREY, COUNTESS OF

NOTTINGHAM.

DIED IN 1603.

Black dress. White lace cap. Ruff and cuffs. Black veil.

Holding a glove.

THE daughter of Henry Carey, Lord Hunsdon, who was first cousin to Queen Elizabeth his mother being Mary Boleyn. Nor did ‘her Grace disdain to call him cousin,’ and her visit to Hunsdon House is immortalised in a painting (engraved) by Mark Gerrard, where she is carried in procession. The picture contains many portraits, including Lord and Lady Hunsdon, and Catherine, their daughter, the subject of this notice.

Grainger, speaking of Lord Hunsdon in his usually quaint manner, tells us ‘he was of a soldierly disposition, and a great seller of bargains to the maids of honour,’ and the Queen esteemed him much, and offered to create him an Earl on his deathbed, which somewhat tardy dignity he refused.

Catherine married the gallant Charles Howard, Lord High Admiral of England, whose name is invariably connected with the glorious defeat of the Spanish Armada. He was first created Baron of Effingham, and afterwards Earl of Nottingham; and it was to his wife that the unfortunate Essex intrusted the ring which Elizabeth had given him in the height of his favour, with the promise that whatever crime he should commit, she would pardon, provided he returned the pledge.

The story connected with this ring has been so often and so variously told, so many times asserted and disbelieved, 151that we might be tempted to let the subject pass in silence were it not for the fact that the actual relic is in the possession of Lord John Thynne, uncle of the present Marquis of Bath, (1879,) and therefore claims a comment in these pages. We subjoin what appears to us the most authentic account:—

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 152are 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 153of 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.

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 154England. 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.

155

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 156his 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 157year 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 158of 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 159Spaniards, 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.

160

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.

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 162to 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 163delight 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 164time 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.

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 165every 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. 166The 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?’

167

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.

168Whatever 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 169fulfil. 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 170murder 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.

171

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.

172

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 173of 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 174daughter, 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.’

175The 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, 176yet 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.

177Sir 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 178face, 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 179the 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 180disgust 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.’ 181The 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 182lovers 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 183her to rise, ‘telling her of the sweet air, the beautiful day, and the duty of her journey.’ But the good physician braved all for her health’s sake, though this step entailed the necessity of a letter from Bishop and doctor too, to the Lords in Council.

James, anxious to ascertain if the illness were feigned, sent his own physician to see Arabella, and consult with Dr. Mountford, who told him plainly ‘remedies were useless, and that he could warrant no amendmente of her health, or continuance of lyfe if some contentment of minde be not granted. His aim,’ he said, ‘was to cherish her into life.’ Nevertheless cruel orders came to hurry her on her way, and during a ride of six miles, she was attacked by deadly sickness and faintness, and was carried almost insensible to the house of a gentleman named Thomas Conyers, resident at East Barnet. Letters again passed from the travellers to high quarters, and the physician wrote to Lady Shrewsbury, (Arabella’s aunt,) who was most uneasy on the sufferer’s account.

A respite of a month was granted. The Bishop returned to Durham, and she was committed to the care of Sir James Crofts; but her servants were removed from her side. The Bishop on his way stopped at Royston, where the Court was, and thought to benefit the prisoner’s cause by most abject appeals to the King; indeed, the Bishop went so far as to say ‘his cousin would willingly sweep his chamber,’ which we take leave to suppose was speaking without book. At the termination of the month the lady was commanded to proceed on her way north; she was still indisposed, and she made the most of that excuse. Whenever Sir James Crofts visited her she was stretched on the bed in pain. ‘She apprehended nothing but fear and anger in the most ugliest forms; the horrors of her utter ruin drive her to despair; to live out one only year in some convenient place not so clean out of the world as she termeth Durham, she could gather to herself some weak hopes of more gentle times to come.’ Sir James, who like 184most people seems to have experienced her fascination, says again, ‘the best and pleasingest discourse had no effect on her mind, but was met by tears and lamentations.’ Her faithful Mountford went to London to plead for her with James, who declared ‘to Durham she should go if he were King,’ but at length another month’s respite was granted.

Arabella had now a project in her head, and her aunt, Lady Shrewsbury, (born Cavendish,) had devoted herself to the cause of her unfortunate niece. She appealed to all the persons whom she believed to have influence at Court, and finding all other means fail, she contrived a plan of escape, and forwarded a large sum of money to facilitate the same.

The money was sent nominally for the payment of Arabella’s debts, and for the commission of purchasing some needlework of Mary Queen of Scots. Crompton, her faithful man-servant, deeply attached to his mistress, managed all these transactions, prepared disguises, and communicated with William Seymour in some miraculous manner. Arabella now feigned entire submission to the King’s commands, and expressed her willingness to proceed to Durham, by which means she threw her keepers off their guard; moreover, she worked on the compassion of one of her attendants (a minister’s wife) to assist her.

On the 4th of June the unhappy lady assumed her disguise—‘a pair of French-fashioned hose, a man’s doublet, a long-locked peruke, black hat and cloak, white boots with red tops, and a rapier by her side;’ and thus equipped set forth, with Markham, one of her servants, on foot. But Arabella was neither as strong of purpose, or of body as Rosalind, and she ofttimes ‘disgraced her man’s apparel by bearing herself like a woman.’

She turned faint ere they reached ‘the sorry inne’ where the trusty Crompton awaited them with saddle-horses, so much so that the hostler who held the stirrup remarked, as 185she languidly mounted, ‘The gentleman will scarcely reach London.’

The fresh air and exercise, however, revived her, and they arrived at Blackwall in safety. This was the place of rendezvous with her husband, and some faithful followers, but in vain they waited for Seymour, till it was counted so dangerous to delay that, leaving one to communicate with him, when he should appear, she set out in a boat with a female attendant, the two men, Markham, and Crompton, following in another with her baggage. At Lee they found a vessel lying at anchor. They hailed her, and finding she was bound for Berwick, and would not change her course even for a heavy bribe, they inquired if there were not a French vessel anywhere near. Alas! these inquiries were calculated to put the bloodhounds on the track.

In describing the fugitives afterwards, the captain, having spoken of the men, said there were ‘two women, one bare-faced, in a black riding safeguard, and a hat; the other was so wrapped in a long cloak, and her face so closely covered, that he could not see her; but in drawing off her glove she manifested a marvellous fair white hand.’ Poor Arabella, to whose beautiful hand so many courtly compliments and sonnets had been addressed!

They reached the French vessel and embarked, in despair at the non-appearance of Seymour; yet hoping for his arrival at every moment, she besought the French captain to remain at anchor at least another day; but her attendants insisted on his hoisting sail, well aware that to delay was madness. (Seymour’s adventures will be related in the notice of his life.) So the French ship got under weigh, having on board for freight a heart heavy enough to sink her.

The news of her escape filled the King’s mind with rage and consternation; he pictured Arabella to himself making common cause with all his enemies on the Continent; the 186hue and cry became general. Salisbury, who must surely in his secret heart have prayed for the escape of his old favourite, was ordered to write to the Governor of Calais to intercept Seymour and his wife, (who were supposed to be together,) on their arrival in port. Every ship was to be searched, every means taken, for the apprehension of the fugitives.

Alas! alas! the measures were too well taken (the details are needless); suffice it to say that the train was but too well laid, the track but too well followed. ‘The Adventure,’ one of the vessels sent in pursuit, standing for Calais, was in mid-channel when a sail was sighted. A boat was immediately lowered, as there was but little wind, and six armed men made way for the French vessel. They challenged her in vain, and fired a broadside and several volleys of musketry, giving time for the advance of ‘The Adventure.’

The Frenchman stood thirteen shots before he surrendered, and then Arabella, anxious to avoid bloodshed, came on deck, discovered herself to the captain, and acknowledged there was no use in further resistance. The crew of the boat boarded the French ship, and arrested Arabella, at the same time demanding her husband. She made them a brave and noble answer, saying she had not seen him; she hoped and believed he was safe, and the joy she experienced at his escape far outweighed the sorrow she felt at her own capture.

She was then taken as a close prisoner on board ‘The Adventure,’ with all the rest of the passengers. The King, overjoyed at the news, lost no time; Arabella and her aunt and confidante, Lady Shrewsbury, were sent to the Tower, with several of their adherents, and others, lodged in different prisons—her faithful Crompton, Markham, the minister’s wife, Sir James Crofts, and no end of arrests.

Lord Shrewsbury was kept a prisoner in his house, and the aged Earl of Hertford summoned to London, to Court. ‘If he be found healthful enough to travel, he must not delay.’

187The two ladies were examined before the Privy Council, and we are told that Arabella answered the Lords ‘with good judgment and discretion,’ while the Countess is said ‘to be utterly without reason, crying out that all is but tricks and giggs, that she will answer nothing in private, and if she have offended in law she will answer in public.’ A reply by no means unreasonable, although it would appear that the younger lady was calm and dignified under provocation and persecution, and the elder excited and indignant. The chief count against Lady Shrewsbury was the ready money she had advanced for her niece’s escape, by which she was accused of intending to bribe the Catholic party.

The Scotch and English faction, we are informed by the same authority, were at great issue on this subject. Seymour was safe beyond seas, and James was at rest on that score, as long as the unhappy pair were separated.

In vain were appeals made in Arabella’s behalf to the hard-hearted tyrant. Bishop Goodman says of her: ‘She is a virtuous and good lady, of great intellectuals, and harmless, and gives no offence.’ She was in all things gentle, and showed gratitude for the slightest kindness, but she was treated with great indignity,—the money and jewels found on her person seized by the King’s orders, her servants denied access to her, and Lady Shrewsbury was not even allowed to have an attendant of any kind. What a contrast to the sumptuous life at Hardwicke, Chatsworth, and all the other palaces to which she had been accustomed in her mother’s lifetime!

Lord Shrewsbury wrote a most pitiful appeal respecting the dilapidated state of his wife’s apartments in the Tower, to Lord Salisbury, and after a time some mercy was shown her, and a servant appointed to wait on her, and, crowning grace! a copy of verses, written by Charles Cavendish for the poor prisoner’s delectation, was allowed to be placed in her 188hands. The wretched Arabella spent her hours in weeping and mourning. Sometimes she roused herself to embroider a gift for the King, which he would not accept. Her pen was seldom idle; ‘in all humility, in most humble wise,’ she wrote to James, ‘the most wretched, and unfortunate creature that ever lived, prostrates herself at the feet of the most merciful King that ever was.’ She wrote to Lord Northampton to complain of how badly she is nourished in sickness, of how others, however poor and unfortunate, are preserved alive for charity. ‘I can neither get clothes nor posset at all, nor any complement fit for a sick body in any case, when I call for it.’

Body and mind at last gave way, beneath constant suffering. Arabella showed signs of aberration of intellect, and was now moody, now despairing, now prone to fits of forced gaiety. Hearing of the marriage of her former friend and pupil, the Princess Elizabeth, the unhappy captive contrived to procure a new gown, in which she decked herself with much care. But little effect was produced at Court by the poor prisoner’s gala dress, and the betrothed was too happy to waste much thought on her favourite of other days.

In the same letter, quoted above, she says ‘that help will come too late,’ and declares ‘I do not fear to die, so I be not guilty of my own death, and oppress others with my ruin.’

Gradually but surely her intellect became undermined. She made some incoherent accusations against Lady Shrewsbury, which proved very disadvantageous to that lady, the rigour of whose captivity had been lately mitigated; but was again summoned before the Council, charged with contempt towards the King in refusing to answer questions, again replied scornfully, and pleaded the privilege of her person and nobility, and a rash vow she had made to be silent. She was remanded to the Tower, but the evident signs of insanity evinced by her unfortunate niece nullified the charges brought 189against her. Early in March 1613 Arabella was attacked with convulsions, and declared insane by a physician. Her humble friend Crompton had laid a second plan for her escape, but deliverance was to come in another guise.

Her husband and his father were currying favour with James, but seemed to have troubled themselves little about the poor prisoner, though by some it was believed Seymour wrote to her constantly, and that his letters were intercepted. She grew weaker in body and more feeble in mind, until on the 25th of September, says Nichols, ‘that ill-fated and persecuted lady, Arabella Seymour, daughter of Charles Earl of Lennox, and cousin-german of Henry Darnley, father of King James, died in the Tower of London.’

In the dead of night the daughter of a line of kings was carried along the black river to Westminster Abbey, and there deposited in the royal vault beneath the coffin of Mary Queen of Scots. All pomp and ceremony were forbidden, the Burial Service was read by stealth as over some felon’s grave, not for any fault of her own, but because ‘to have a great funeral for one dying out of the King’s favour would have reflected upon the King’s honour.’

A sadder page can scarcely be found in England’s history, and among many crimes which blacken the fame of James Stuart, perhaps the slow murder of his unhappy kinswoman is the worst.

The terrible traces of suffering and unmistakable signs of imbecility exhibited in this portrait, lead to the conjecture that it must have been painted during her confinement in the Tower.

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No. 88.

JAMES DUKE OF YORK, AFTERWARDS

JAMES II., KING OF ENGLAND.

By Sir Peter Lely.

BORN 1633, DEPOSED 1688, DIED 1701.

Full length. Crimson robes. Mantle. Collar and Order of Garter.

THE second son of Charles I. by Henrietta Maria. Married, first, Anne Hyde, daughter of the Earl of Clarendon, and, secondly, Maria d’Este of Modena. By his first marriage he had Mary, married to the Prince of Orange, afterward William III., and Anne, married to the Prince of Denmark, who succeeded her sister as Queen. By Mary of Modena he had Charles, who died young, James, called the Chevalier de St. George, or the Old Pretender, and three daughters.

No. 89.

ELIZABETH LADY NOTT.

Full length. Grey satin dress. Ringlets. Hand resting on table.

SHE was the sister of Sir Henry Frederick Thynne and married Sir William Nott of Richmond, in the county of Surrey.

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No. 90.

ROBERT DUDLEY, EARL OF LEICESTER.

By Zucchero.

BORN CIRCA 1532, DIED 1588.

Full length. Gold and white dress. Gorget. George and Garter. Page

holding a helmet and tilting lance. Tent in background.

HE was the fifth son of John Dudley, Earl of Warwick, afterwards Duke of Northumberland, by the daughter and heir of Sir Henry Guildford. He began life early. In 1551 he was named Gentleman of the Bedchamber and Master of the Buckhounds to King Edward VI., by whom he was much esteemed. But it would appear that before, or shortly after, his appointment he fell in love with Amy, the fair daughter of Sir John Robsart, over whose sad fate the ‘Wizard of the North’ has thrown so dazzling a glamour, though, contrary to his version of the story, it would appear that the marriage was public and took place at Court. On the death of Edward, and the failure of the scheme devised by the Duke of Northumberland to place his daughter-in-law, Lady Jane Grey, on the throne, Lord Robert Dudley was imprisoned in the Tower on a charge of high treason, and had sentence of death passed on him, and it was supposed he only escaped sharing his father’s fate, by pleading guilty. Any way, he was liberated with a free pardon, and on the marriage of Queen Mary with Philip of Spain, he ingratiated himself into that Prince’s favour, and ‘was most serviceable to both King and Queen,’ says Strype, ‘by carrying messages between them, often riding post to do so.’ To the Princess Elizabeth he had been playfellow in 192childhood, and fellow-prisoner in the Tower, and when she came to the throne she did not forget old days.

She made him Master of the Horse, Knight of the Garter, and Privy Councillor, showering upon him grants and estates without number. Indeed, his influence with her was so great that Secretary Cecil (if we may credit that arch gossip, De Quadra, the Spanish Ambassador at the Court of London) wished Lord Robert Dudley in Paradise. The same writer says that the Queen told him that Lady Robert was very ill, and some time afterwards ‘che si ha rotto il collo.’ It certainly was rumoured at Court that but for the slight obstacle of a wife, the Queen would throw over all her foreign and royal suitors in favour of this handsome polished minion, as Froude calls him. The tragedy of Cumnor Hall will ever remain a mystery; but all these reports which preceded it, and the fact that Lord and Lady Robert had scarcely ever appeared together in public since their marriage, all went to strengthen suspicion against the husband.

On the other hand, no sooner did Dudley hear of his wife’s death, which he said was ‘the most unfortunate thing that could have happened to him,’ than he caused a searching inquiry to be made, and he sent down poor Amy’s half-brother to investigate the matter. On the inquest, these facts transpired: The Lady had insisted on the household leaving her to go to Abingdon Fair, and on their return she was found dead at the bottom of a staircase, without any marks of violence. By some it was suggested she might have been first suffocated and then placed in that position; others again were of opinion that she had committed suicide, seeing she had been overheard to say she prayed God to preserve her from desperation. But one of her attendants would not tolerate the idea, saying she was a good and virtuous gentlewoman. The verdict was accidental death, but the country was full of strange mutterings, the echoes of which have never died away. 193A few contemporaneous documents have lately been found at Longleat which throw some fresh light on the circumstances of her marriage and domestic life. It does not appear to have been one of constrained seclusion, as commonly supposed, nor is there, in the papers alluded to, any indication of estrangement on the part of her husband, still less anything to implicate him, as accessory to her violent death, if it really were such.

In forming opinions on Dudley’s moral character, it is only fair to remember that many of the stories which were spread to his prejudice have their origin in a notorious book entitled Leicester’s Commonwealth, written by men who were his deadliest enemies in politics and religion, especially ‘Parsons the Jesuit.’ This was circulated in MS. for many years, a copy being extant at Longleat; but the Queen and Privy Council published a protest against its slanders. A gorgeous funeral was decreed to the unhappy Amy at Oxford, and Dudley was free. We need not recapitulate the well-known story of Elizabeth’s vacillating conduct with regard to him and her numerous suitors; how all England believed she was on the point of selecting him as her husband; of how Mary Queen of Scots mildly remarked that the Queen of England was about to marry her horsekeeper, who had murdered his wife to make room for her; of how Elizabeth turned round and proposed he should marry Mary, saying that if she herself intended to marry, she should prefer him to all the Princes in the world; and contrasting him with his brother Lord Warwick, she said, ‘He is rough, and lacks the delicacy of Robert.’

As far as she ever was in earnest in her constantly fluctuating matrimonial speculations, Bess really did appear to be so about the Scotch marriage, as she created her favourite Earl of Leicester apparently to fit him for a higher position; and she remarked querulously to Melville, (Mary’s confidential 194envoy to England,) ‘You like better yon long lad,’ pointing to Darnley, who bore the sword of State at the ceremony of Dudley’s elevation to the peerage, and the poor ‘long lad,’ unfortunately for himself, became Mary’s choice; and Elizabeth returned to the game of fast-and-loose with Leicester. His suit, says Froude, was never listened to more favourably than when it served to interfere with another man’s, but on a sudden she was informed he was already secretly married to the widow of Walter Devereux, Earl of Essex.

Already during the lifetime of her noble husband this lady’s name had been whispered in conjunction with that of Leicester, in no creditable manner, and their hasty marriage, after the sudden and mysterious death of Lord Essex, gave rise to many dark suspicions. Another scandal, too, was afloat; another secret, or pretended marriage was spoken of between Leicester and the daughter of Lord Effingham, widow of Lord Sheffield. Lodge tells us that when Dudley wished to marry Lady Essex, he compelled the unhappy woman to renounce all claim to the title of his lawful wife, by publicly espousing Sir Edward Stafford. All this transpired at a later period, when she came forward in behalf of her son, whom Lady Leicester persecuted with law-suits after his father’s death. It would appear that Dudley entertained much affection for the child whom he had injured, whose legitimacy he now affirmed, now denied, and at his death bequeathed to him the estates of Kenilworth, which the bad woman who had supplanted his mother would not allow him to enjoy in peace. Lettice, Lady Leicester, survived her husband nearly half a century. Elizabeth always hated her, and would never be reconciled to her, although she was the mother of Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, who succeeded his stepfather in the royal favour. The Queen stormed and raved on first hearing of the marriage, wept profusely, and behaved as was her wont. In 1584 she sent Leicester to the Low Countries in command 195of the auxiliary forces, and he joined his gallant nephew, Sir Philip Sidney, at Flushing. He lived in such state, and took so much upon himself, as to expose him to a severe reprimand from home. He returned, and went out again to Zealand with fresh levies, and was restored to greater favour than ever. In the famous speech she addressed to the troops at Tilbury, Elizabeth extolled her favourite to the skies, having already named him to the command of the army raised to oppose the expected Spanish invasion. It was reported she intended to make him Viceregent of England, but the mighty solver of many a vexed question arrested his progress. He died of fever at his house at Cornbury, county Oxford, on his way to Kenilworth, September 1588.

No. 91.

THOMAS THYNNE (TOM O’ TEN THOUSAND).

By Sir Peter Lely.

SHOT IN HIS COACH, 1682.

Tawny coat. Blue mantle. Full wig. Lace collar.

No. 92.

THE HONOURABLE JAMES THYNNE.

By KERSEBOOM.

BORN 1701, DIED 1705.

Full length. A child seated by a fountain, pouring water from a shell.

Loose white shirt. Pink and blue drapery.

A YOUNGER son of the first Lord Weymouth. He died at an early age.

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