Photo by Richard Keene, Ltd., Derby
THE PICTURE GALLERY FROM THE NORTH, HARDWICK HALL
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CHAPTER XXII
ARABELLA DANCES INTO COURT
The death of Mary Queen of Scots was the signal for the Countess to insure that Arabella should be as near the Court as possible. She was kept hard at her lessons, but, though the various members of the family were at variance over property, the Dowager was far too wise to spoil the girl’s prospects by forbidding her intercourse with her “Court-like” aunt, Gilbert’s Mary. As regards the young Shrewsbury pair she was, of course, at once a possible stumbling-block and a possible stepping-stone to their advantage. Her parentage gave her social precedence, and though her present worldly status was not very great, she might at any time, by an important marriage, assume a position far above them and be regarded as a source of Court favours. In fact, both sides of the complicated family co-operated to help her on in the world.
Already at the age of thirteen she was introduced to the Court. Her young uncle, Sir Charles Cavendish, writes of it with great appreciation: “My Lady Arbell, has been once to Court. Her Majesty spoke twice to her ... she dined in the presence, but my Lord Treasurer had her to supper; and at dinner, I dining with her, and sitting over against him, he asked me whether I came with my niece. I said I came with her: then he spake openly, and directed his speech to Sir Walter Rawley, greatly in her recommendation, as that she had the French, the Italian, played of instruments, dances, and writ very fair; wished she were fifteen years old, and with that rounded Mr. Rawley in the ear, who answered it would be a happy thing.... My Lady Arbelle and the rest are very well, and it is wonderful how she profiteth in her book, and believe she will dance with exceeding good grace, and can behave herself with great proportion to everyone in their degree.”[[87]]
Old Lady Shrewsbury worked hard for Arabella and played for Elizabeth’s favour now more than ever, with a keen hope of seeing the girl named as her Majesty’s successor. James of Scotland was, of course, playing a similar game, and while he pressed the Queen in regard to the succession, up to the point of making her angry, he kept on good terms with Arabella, to whom he wrote now and then an affectionate, cousinly letter. His tactics were practical, for he now proposed as her bridegroom Esmé Stuart, a piece of diplomacy on which, under the magnificent guise of her restoration to her own title of Lennox, he must have prided himself enormously. This offer was declined; a shortsighted refusal, as it proved both in the future and in the present, for matters in regard to Elizabeth’s favour did not prosper. Old age and bitterness made her resentful and increased her hydra-headed suspicion. It was always so easy for any ill-minded person to raise a papistical scare and accuse Arabella—whose aunt, the young Countess, was notoriously in favour of the proscribed priesthood—as being the heart and soul of every such plot.
Yet the Dowager Countess still laboured on. We find Arabella sending the Queen a “rare New Year gift,” to which her Majesty’s return was acknowledged by a confidential correspondent as a very poor one. The Queen, however, in discussion with the writer announced her intention to be kind and promised to be “very careful of Arabella.” Again this was a case of “Words, words!”
It was in 1592 that Arabella refused Esmé Stuart. In 1596 no less a person than the French King discussed her as a possible bride for the Dauphin. Meanwhile she, who was in no sense an intrigante, and seems to have inherited all the simplicity of her mother, with the energy and the joie de vivre of her grandmother, was in no way concerned in the wretched schemes attributed to her by wild gossip. She was more desirous of love and companionship than of place and glory, and of a decent competence than the splendour of courts. In her twenty-eighth year (1603) she attempted to make her own choice. It was a curious one as regards discrepancy in age. She sought to betroth herself to a boy fifteen years old, young William Seymour. This was no less than the grandson of that same unhappy Earl Hertford who had wedded poor Lady Catherine Grey. The whole affair would be puzzling if it were not for the fact that Arabella’s thoughts were turned in this direction by the fact that he, like herself, was partly of royal blood. At the same time, he was not hampered by the possession of a crown, and with all the attendant difficulties and dangers of a royal marriage. The matter did not go very far, for the bare suggestion of such a thing aroused the most absurd excitement in the Queen’s mind. Arabella was at once arrested.
Elizabeth, it will be remembered, was already dying by inches in the cold spring of 1603. The accusation that Arabella’s action killed her has no ground whatsoever; but it was an unfortunate moment to incur royal displeasure. Naturally when the question of succession came up finally and Elizabeth was asked if she could contemplate young William Seymour’s father, Lord Beauchamp, as her heir, the old irritation against the Hertford marriage flared up in that memorable dying retort of hers: “I will have no rascal’s son in my place.”
Bitterly indeed must Bess Shrewsbury have raved at Hardwick against the unjust fate which caused the fortunes of her “juwell” to decline so miserably at this critical moment. The succession of James was thereby assured, and when it became fact was a bitter pill for Talbot and Cavendish to swallow. By this time the good Burghley was dead, and his son, Sir Robert Cecil, undertook to mediate for Arabella with James. She was for the moment removed to polite imprisonment in the country, whence she wrote breezy and innocent letters to her family, notably to her step-uncle, Edward Talbot, in which she disclaims her guilt in a somewhat veiled and fantastic manner. “Noble gentleman,” runs one sentence, “I am as unjustly accused of contriving a comedy as you in my conscience a tragedy.”