Bess of Hardwick and Her Circle

by Maud Stepney Rawson

“Gilbert Talbot, M. Talbot.

“George is very well, I thank God: he drinketh every day to La. Grandmother, rideth to her often, but yet within the Court; and if he have any spice, I tell him La. Grandmother is come and will see him; which he then will either quickly hide or quickly eat, and then asks where La. Danmode is.”

Here it is very distinctly set forth, the growing distrust, the little suspicions nursed by husband and wife: “He was not so inquisitive of me touching your Ladyship.” “He asked me divers times when I thought your Ladyship would be here.” “You assuredly thought that my Lord was better pleased with your absence than presence.” And in expressing his mother’s willingness to send away one of her grooms, since her lord was so offended with him, though she would gladly know of some offence to allege in giving the man his dismissal, he shows that my Lord still is mistrustful. “She’ll take no groom that I recommend to her” is his morose comment.

Another long letter from Gilbert the go-between gives the quarrel a more serious colour. Apparently it is the absurd old matter of household tapestries which is the immediate bone of contention. In vulgar phrase, there seems to have been a regular “row” over some embroiderers—upholsterer’s men as they would now be called—at Sheffield Lodge, who had been turned adrift instead of being carefully housed while at their work. The Earl’s steward, one Dickenson, evidently acted against express orders in his zeal to keep at a distance all persons who were not actually of the household and who might convey letters or messages to the captive. The Earl had expressed himself forcibly and the Countess could not forget his words. But she had not restrained her tongue either, and he had retorted that she scolded “like one that came from the Bank.” He does not like the groom, Owen (alluded to in the letter just quoted), and couples him with the embroiderer’s men. But the thing which most hurts him is that his wife should have left Sheffield, whither he is bound from Bolsover, the very day he arrives. He cannot forgive it, in spite of her suggestion that he should combine some business he has to transact in the Peak district with a visit to her at Chatsworth. He is, moreover, morbidly sensitive about the whole position, and thinks that his wife’s departure will make a very bad impression upon his household. Gilbert pleads her love and devotion, and draws a vivid picture of her distress. The Earl melts; he concedes her love; he reiterates all he has done for her, all he has “bestowed.” And lastly he curses her building projects which take her so constantly away from him.

From a photo by Richard Keene, Ltd., Derby, after the picture at Hardwick Hall
By permission of his Grace the Duke of Devonshire
GEORGE TALBOT, SIXTH EARL OF SHREWSBURY
Page [202]

“My duty most humbly remembered. I trust your La. will pardon me in writing plainly and truly, although it be both bluntly and tediously. I met my L. at Bolsover yesterday about one of the clock, who at the very first was rather desirous to hear from hence than to enquire of Killingworth. Quoth he, ‘Gilbert, what talk had my wife with you?’ ‘Marry, my L.,’ quoth I, ‘it hath pleased her to talk with me once or twice since my coming, but the matter she most spoke of is no small discomfort for me to understand.’ Then he was very desirous and bade me tell him what. I began: ‘Truly, Sir, with as grieved a mind as ever I saw woman in my life, she told me your L. was vehemently offended with her, in such sort, and with so many words and shows in your anger of evil will towards her, as thereby your L. said you could not but seem doubtful that all his wonted love and affection is clean turned to the contrary; for your L. further said, you had given him no cause at all to be offended.’ You hearing that your embroiderers were kept out of the Lodge from their beds by John Dickenson’s command said to my L. these words in the morning, ‘Now did you give command that the embroiderers should be kept out of the Lodge?’ and my L. answered ‘No.’ ‘Then,’ quoth your La., ‘they were kept from their beds there yesternight; and he that did so said John Dickenson had given that express command.’ Which my L. said was a lie. And he said it was utterly untrue. And so I would have gone on to have told the rest; how your La. willed him to enquire whether they were not in this manner kept out or no: but his proceeding into vehement choler and hard speeches he cut me off, saying it was to no purposs to hear any recital of this matter, for if he listed he said he could remember cruel speeches your La. used to him, ‘which were such as,’ quoth he, ‘I was forced to tell her, she scolded like one that came from the Bank.[^[53]] Then, Gilbert,’ said he, ‘judge whether I had cause or not. Well,’ quoth he, ‘I will speak no more of this matter: but she hath such a sort of varlets about her as never ceaseth carrying tales’; and then uttered cruel words against Owen chiefly and the embroiderers, over long to trouble your La. with. So being alighted from his horse all this while, said, ‘Let us get up and be gone; and I shall have enough to do when I come home.’ Then quoth I, ‘I think my La. be at Chatsworth by this time.’ ‘What!’ quoth he, ‘is she gone from Sheffield?’ I answered, ‘By nine of the clock.’ Whereupon he seemed to marvel greatly, and said, ‘Is her malice such that she would not tarry one night for my coming?’ I answered that your La. told me that he was contented at your first coming you should go as yesterday: which he swore he never heard of. ‘Then,’ quoth I, ‘my La. further told me that when your L. was contented for her departure that day, he said that he had business in the Peake and would shortly come thither, and lie at Chatsworth.’ Quoth he, ‘Her going away thus giveth me small cause to come to Chatsworth,’ but answered not whether he said so or not. But I assure your La. before God, he was and is greatly offended with your going hence yesterday.

“After he had seen all his grounds about Bolsover, and was coming into the way homewards, he began with me again saying that all the house might discern your Ladyship’s stomach against him by your departure before his coming. I answered beside what I said before, that your La. said you had very great and earnest business as well at Chatsworth for your things there, as to deal with certain freeholders for Sir Thomas Stanhope, but he allowed not any reason or cause, but was exceeding angry for the same. Whereupon I spake at large which I beseech your La. to pardon my tediousness in repeating thereof, or at least the most thereof. Quoth I, ‘I pray your L. give leave to tell you plainly what I gathered by my Lady. I see she is so grieved and vexed in mind as I protest to God I never saw any woman more in my life; and after she told me how without any cause at all your L. uttered most cruel and bitter speeches against her, when she all the while never uttered any undutiful word, and had particularly imparted the whole matter, she plainly declared unto me that she thought your L. heart was withdrawn from her, and all your affection and love to hate and evil will’: saying that you took it as your cross that so contrary to your deservings he adjudged of you, applinge[^[54]] the manifold shows which you so indefinitely have made proof; and so forgot no earnest protestations that your La. pleased to utter to me of your dear affection and love to him both in health and sickness, taking it upon your soul that you wished his griefs were on yourself to disburden and quit him of [them].

“And quoth I, ‘My L., when she told me of this her dear love towards you, and now how your L. hath requited her, she was in such perplexity as I never saw woman’: and concluded, that your La. speech was that now you know he thought himself most happy when you were absent from, and most unhappy when you were with him. And this, I assure your La., he heeded; and although I cannot say his very word was that he had injured and wronged you, yet both by his countenance and words it plainly showed the same, and [he] answered, ‘I know,’ quoth he, ‘her love hath been great to me: and mine hath been and is as great to her: for what can a man do more for his wife than I have done and daily do for her?’ And so reckoned at large, your La. may think with the most, what he hath given and bestowed. Whereunto I could not otherwise reply than thus. Quoth I, ‘My L., she were to blame if she considered not these things: but I gather plainly by her speech to me that she thinketh notwithstanding that your heart is hardened against her, as I have once or twice already told your Lordship, and that you love them that love not her, and believe those about you which hateth her.’ And at your departure I said that your La. told me that you verily thought my L. was gladder of your absence than presence. Wherein, I assure your La., he deeply protested the contrary: and said, ‘Gilbert, you know the contrary; and how often I have cursed the buildings at Chatsworth for want of her company: but [quoth he] you see she careth not for my company by going away. I would not have done so to her....’ But after this he talked not much; but I know it pinched him, and on my conscience I think so; but what effects will follow God knoweth.

“I will write again to your La. what I find by him this day; for yesternight having not talked with any but myself, I know that his heart desireth reconciliation if he wist which way to bring it to pass. Living God grant it, and make his heart turn to your comfort in all things.