Mistress of Hardwick

by Plowden, Alison

  There was open war now at Hardwick, but in the Palace at Richmond Queen Elizabeth lay dying and the air was thick with rumour and speculation about the future. The Venetians, in particular, were receiving almost daily reports. '. . . The Queen is said to be very sick. Arbella is diversely reported of and is like to be sent up shortly to be guarded . . .' '. . . Lady Arbella is under guard, some say married to the Earl of Hertford's grandchild, which is most false; some that she is mad . . .' '. . . The Queen's sickness continues, and every man's head is full of proclamations as to what shall become of us afterwards.' 'The marriage of Lady Arbella is discussed every day with greater freedom, and especially are the minds of the Kings of France and Spain well disposed towards her, for neither one nor the other would willingly see a single sovereign in England, Scotland and Ireland.

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  The King of Scotland, as a male and senior to Arbella, has the favour of the people, but he lives surrounded by conspiracies which threaten his death . . .' 'All minds are anxious and the partisans of the King of Scotland, in order to destroy public sympathy for Arbella, are spreading reports prejudicial to her character as an honest woman...' On Thursday, March loth, came the attempt to rescue Arbella which Bess had dreaded for so long. 'About twelve of the clock', she reported to Brounker later that same day, 'Arbell came out of her chamber, went towards the gates (as she said) intending to walk, but, being persuaded it was dinner time, did stay. About two of the clock in the afternoon, there came to my gates my son Henry Cavendish and one Mr Stapleton . . . For that Arbell was desirous to speak with my bad son Henry, I was content to suffer him to come into my house and speak with her, rather than she to go to him, but sent him word not to remain here above two hours. I would not suffer Stapleton to come within my gates, for I have disliked him of long for many respects . . . Arbell and Henry Cavendish had not talked as I think a dozen words together but they both came down and offered to go out of my gates. One of my servants entreated them not to offer to go out until they had my consent. Arbell seemed unwilling to stay, yet at length by persuasion did stay till word was brought to me. When I understood of it, I sent to her that I did not think it good she should speak with Stapleton, and wished her to forbear it . . . She asked if she were a prisoner, and said she would see, and so went to the gates and would have gone out, but was not suffered. Yet she did speak to Stapleton, looking through the gates, some vain, idle words of salutation ... So with much sending to Stapleton to depart, at length he went from my gates. She had appointed Henry Cavendish to come hither again tomorrow, which I forbade, and so I think he will not come. He was no sooner gone out of my gates but she made herself ready

  to walk abroad, which I thought not convenient she should do and so she stayed.'

  Arbella's uncle Henry and Stapleton, *a very wilful Papist', had forty well-armed horsemen with them who might easily have overpowered the garrison at Hardwick -but Bess's indomitable will had prevailed. She thought it 'not convenient' that Arbella should go, and so she stayed. Bess had saved Arbella from courting certain and complete disaster, but the old lady could do no more. She was very tired and prayed yet again that Arbella should be removed.

  Henry Brounker, no doubt cursing women in general and Arbella in particular, made his way north for the third time in three months to investigate the situation on the spot. He found Hardwick in a state of siege with relations between Bess and Arbella at breaking point. *The Lady Arbella hath neither altered her speech nor behaviour,' he told Robert Cecil. 'She is certain in nothing but her uncertainty. She justifieth herself and desireth liberty. I persuade her to patience and conformity, but nothing will satisfy her but her remove from her grandmother, so settled is her mislike of the old lady, upon what ground I cannot conceive, unless it be upon the restraint of messengers and letters which minister occasion of miuch writing, to the distempering of her brains, apparent enough by the multitude of her idle discourses which your lordships have lately seen.'

  Brounker's sympathies were by this time entirely with Bess. 'The old lady groweth exceeding weary of her charge', he wrote. 'She beginneth to be weak and sickly by breaking her sleep, and cannot long continue this vexation.' Sir Henry was also fully alive to the dangers of the situation which had been allowed to develop at Hardwick. 'Every man's mouth is full of the Queen's danger, and Arbella receives daily advertisements to that purpose ... I suppose her wilfulness, which is much greater and more

  peremptory than before, ariseth out of a hope of the Queen's death. I find her so vain and idle as I seldom trouble her, neither doth she much desire my company, though I pretended I came to see her wrongs righted and to compound all matters between her grandmother and her.' Brounker did not feel competent to deliver judgement on the *late assembly' at Hardwick until he had been able to make further enquiries, but he was convinced that something positive would have to be done about Arbella. 'I am verily persuaded', he wrote, 'that her remove only will stay her practice, which I perceive is resolved by herself and others. If her Majesty should miscarry ... I do not see how she can be kept in this place two days, and therefore it were good that her remove were thought on in time, if her escape may breed danger.'

  As a result of Brounker's recommendations, Arbella was at last removed from Bess's care. If her only object had been escape from Hardwick, she had got her way, though at the cost of much reputation and personal dignity. If, as Henry Brounker evidently believed, she had intended to make a bid for the throne on her own account, she could scarcely have made a more disastrous mess of things. On March 22nd she was taken to Wrest Park in Bedfordshire, the house of the Earl of Kent whose nephew had married her cousin Elizabeth Talbot, and Bess was left in peace. Hardwick was quiet once more but the sense of urgency had gone. No more messengers slipped in and out of its gates - no more muddied, weary horsemen rode across the courtyard - Bess no longer needed to guard against potential kidnappers and conspirators or to see mysterious strangers lurking behind every bush. It was all a little dull.

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  10 When Hardwick Towers Shall Bow Their Head

  Queen Elizabeth died very peacefully in the early hours of Thursday, March 24th, 1603. Her last conscious act had been to name her *cousin of Scotland' to succeed her. Ehzabeth had reigned over England for forty-four years, four months and seven days - far longer than any other monarch since the days of Edward III - and the great majority of her subjects could not remember the world without her, for many of them it would never be the same place again.

  Although the news of the Queen's death sped northward as the couriers posted for life up the road to Scotland, it would have been some weeks before the details of her passing reached Hardwick and by that time James was already on his way south to take up his inheritance. Nobody had mentioned Arbella Stuart. Sir Robert Cecil had won. Bess of Hardwick would never see her granddaughter proclaimed Queen - the dreams of nearly thirty years had vanished within a matter of weeks. But Bess had never wasted time and energy regretting what might have been. She would be eighty-three on her next birthday, a very great age, but she remained remarkably fit and active. All the same, not even Bess was immortal and the time was coming when she must set her affairs in order.

  *I, Ehzabeth, Countess of Shrewsbury, lately wife of George, Earl of Shrewsbury deceased; having learned as well out of the holy Word of God, as by the common experience of the world, that all flesh must change this mortal life, and that the hour and time of death is most uncertain and not to be known to any mortal creature . . . do now by this my writing, in my perfect health and good memory, ordain and make this my last Will and Testament; as well to have my mind quiet from all worldly

  respects... as also to prevent all suits, debates and controversy that otherwise may arise or be moved amongst my children, whom I most chiefly desire and heartily pray to live in all unity and natural affection.'

  In her Will, first drawn up in April 1601, Bess left Chatsworth to her eldest son, Henry, and Hardwick and Oldcotes to WilU
am. Arbella, then 'her very loving grandchild', was to receive: *My crystal glass framed with silver and gilt, and set with lapis lazarus and agate; and one sable, the head being of gold set with stone, and a white ermine sable, the head being of gold enamelled; and all my pearls and jewels, which I shall have at my decease, except such as shall be otherwise bequeathed by this my last Will; and I shall give to her a thousand pounds in money.' But by the spring of 1603, the situation had changed. Bess had not forgiven her *bad son Henry' for his part in encouraging Arbella's revolt or for attempting to rescue her grand-daughter from Hardwick by force. Nor had she forgiven Arbella. Two days before Arbella finally left Hardwick, the old lady had added a codicil to her Will. * Forasmuch as I have changed my mind touching my bequests and legacies to my grand-daughter Arbella Stuart, and my son Henry Cavendish; I have fully determined and resolved that neither my said grand-daughter, nor the said Henry Cavendish, or either of them, shall have any benefit by any such gift or legacy. I therefore declare by this codicil, that every gift or legacy by me appointed to them, be utterly frustrate, void and of none effect.'

  Bess was now able to enjoy Hardwick as a thing of beauty, undistracted by her responsibilities for Arbella. Two years earlier, with typical thoroughness, she had embarked on the mammoth task of compiling an inventory of the contents of the house which she was anxious should remain in their proper setting. She left her grandson, the second William Cavendish, a cup of lapis lazarus

  with a cover to it, all garnished with gold, enamelled *as an heirloom to go with her house at Hard wick'. All the furniture at Hardwick was entailed; ^because' wrote Bess, 'it hath pleased God to give me leave to perform some buildings at my houses at Ghatsworth, Hardwick and Oldcotes in the county of Derby, which I greatly desire should be well preserved and the furniture continued at my said houses for the better furnishing thereof, into whose possession soever, of my blood, the said houses shall come'.

  The passage of nearly four centuries has scattered many of Bess's treasures, yet some of the items listed in the inventory do still remain. In the High Great Ghamber the *six pieces of fair tapestry hangings of the story of Ulysses, eleven foot deep' still line the walls of that marvellous room which was designed to hold them. *A drawing table carved and gilt standing upon sea dogs inlaid with marble stones and wood' is also still at Hardwick. But the carpet for it *of needlework of the story of David and Saul with a gold fringe and trimmed with blue taffeta sarcenet' has succumbed to the ravages of time and moth. Two of the inlaid tables survive - one being the famous walnut table made for that long ago triple Shrewsbury wedding: Talbot arms impaling Hardwick, Gavendish impaling Talbot. Another piece of furniture listed by Bess and which would remind her of her fourth and most brilliant marriage every time she looked at it, was the chest of oak and walnut and marquetry, with two arcaded panels inlaid with distant buildings seen through an arch. The keystones of the arches bear the initials G.T. which may be George Talbot or Gilbert his son. The chest itself has drawers in the lower section - an innovation which represents an early stage in the evolution of that useful object, the chest of drawers.

  Wandering from the Presence or High Great Ghamber into the Long Gallery, Bess could feast her eyes on the so-called Gideon tapestries, her pleasure no doubt increased by the satisfactory knowledge that they had been

  a bargain. She had acquired them second-hand from the Hatton family in 1592 when she had been in London on a shopping spree for Hardwick. The thirteen pieces of arras 'containing one thousand ells and a half of arras of the story of Gideon' had cost her £326 . 15 . gd. 'Whereof for making of new arms was abated five pounds.' Bess paid Mr Sheldon's man thirty shillings and fourpence for changing the Hatton coat of arms to Hardwick, while the Hatton does were converted into Cavendish stags by the simple expedient of adding horns. Bess also bought Tour pieces of arras of the story of Abraham, every piece twelve foot deep' from the Hattons. In the Inventory these are referred to as a second set of hangings for the withdrawing chamber.

  The Inventory is an astonishing document. Every chair, every stool, every cushion, table cover and carpet is listed. Everything is covered in needlework in blue and crimson, orange tawny, green and purple - everything embellished with gold and silver and silk fringe. But the practical Bess was not merely concerned with counting her valuables - the looking glass decorated with mother of pearl and silver; the great gilt salt cellar weighing sixty-two ounces; another salt of gold and crystal weighing five and a half ounces; the cups and ewers and basins of gold and parcel gilt. She also lists spare ticks for feather beds, chamber pots, a frying pan, a collander, blankets and coverlets, kitchen candlesticks, bolsters, kettles and fire-irons - all the paraphernalia, in fact, of daily life four hundred years ago.

  As well as taking housewifely care to leave her worldly possessions in good order, Bess, after the fashion of her time and class, was making other methodical preparations for eternity. 'I commend and commit my soul into the hands of my most merciful and heavenly Father, most humbly beseeching him, and faithfully beHeving that he will place the same in the most blessed company of his

  Elect, there most comfortably to praise his Holy Name for ever more; and my body I commit to the earth, whereof it came, and to be buried in Allhallows Church in Derby, in the place of the same church where it is appointed and determined that my tomb shall be erected and built, which at this present is finished and wanteth nothing but setting up. And I especially will and require that my funeral be not over sumptuous, or otherwise performed with too much vain and idle charge; requiring only that it may be accomplished in decent and convenient order, fit for that estate and degree to which it hath pleased my most merciful God to prefer me.' Bess was leaving nothing to chance and paid a visit to All Saints Church to inspect her last resting place, the foundations for which had cost her seven pounds, fifteen shillings and sixpence.

  Bess had always been good to her dependants. Throughout her life she had performed many thoughtful acts of charity and in her closing years had endowed an almshouse at Derby for 'the perpetual relief of eight poor men and four poor women', who were to be of'good and honest conversation and not infected with any contagious disease'. Being Bess, all the arrangements were extremely businesslike down to the last details. 'The said new admitted poor shall receive one cognizance or badge of silver of the Almshouses, and one bedstead, one mattress, one bolster, two pairs of sheets, two coffers, two tables, one cupboard, tvo stools, four pewter dishes, iron tongs, fire shovel, and all the furniture of every several room by written indenture subscribed by the Warden or one of the bailiffs.' The inmates were daily to 'keep his or her lodging clean with sweeping and the furniture in decent and honest manner'. There was to be no going absent without leave, no playing truant from prayers. Those who could work were to do so and not haunt alehouses or keep bad company. There was to be no brawling or tippling, and persistent offenders could be expelled.

  Bess installed a Warden, one Richard Hayward and his wife Dorothy, and she had devised a way of putting her endowment to practical use. *The said Richard Hayward during his life, and always after his death, the Warden of the said Almhouses shall have and keep the key of the upper part of the quire or chancel of the Church of All Saints; where the said Countess meaneth to have her tomb or monument placed, and shall at least ever^ week, once or oftener, as need shall require, cleanse, dust and sweep over the said monument, and the place about it, from all dust and annoyance upon or about the same.' The inmates of the almshouse were also to parade in the church twice a day, winter and summer, to pray before the tomb of their foundress.

  Bess's closing years passed peacefully. She continued to take a lively interest in the world about her. A regular correspondent in London kept her informed of the latest gossip, and news of Arbella, now spreading her wings at Court, reached Hardwick from time to time. Arbella, who was finding Court life expensive, paid a visit to her grandmother in 1605 and got a somewhat chilly reception. The old lady relented sufficiently to present her
with a gold cup worth a hundred pounds and ;£"300 in cash, but she was not reinstated in the Will. Bess cannot be said to have mellowed greatly with age, although she did make up her quarrel with her step-son, Gilbert Talbot and her daughter Mary. The Shrewsburys and Charles Cavendish visited Hardwick in December, 1607, where, according to Gilbert, they found *a lady of great years, of great wealth, and of great wit, which yet still remains. She received us with all respect and affection, and stayed us with her one day . . . without so much as one word of any former suits or un-kindness, but only compliment, courtesy and kindness.'

  Bess was now eighty-seven - an almost unheard of age for her times - and to her descendants must have begun to seem as much a permanent part of the landscape as the

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  houses she had built. But Gilbert Talbot noticed a great change in her. *She did eat very little and was not able to walk the length of the chamber betwixt two, but grew so ill at it as you might plainly discern.' On New Year's Day, 1608 she was reported as looking 'pretty well' and speaking 'heartily', but it was obvious now that the end could not be long delayed. Bess took to her bed and Mrs Digby, her personal maid, sent a message to Gilbert telling him that 'her ladyship was so ill she could not be from her day nor night'. Bess's wonderful physique was failing at last, but she still retained 'the blessing of sense and memory', 'Within the space of twenty days next before her death' she gave her executor William, now Baron Cavendish, various additional instructions. He was to invest the sum of one hundred pounds and use the profits to pay for any necessary repairs at the almshouse in Derby. Because her daughter and son-in-law and Charles Cavendish, 'by their means', had previously offered her 'unkindness' Bess had left them nothing but blessings in her Will. Now she told William that she 'would have him give to her daughter Shrewsbury, from her, the Pearl Bed with all that belonged to it in that chamber, except the hangings'. She also gave 'unto her son Charles Cavendish four thousand marks for him to bestow in land for his two sons'. Faithful Mrs Digby was to have a hundred pounds. Bess remembered that Mr Clay of Crich owed her a hundred pounds. Clay could keep fifty of it, she told William, and give the other fifty to his daughter Mary. All the loose ends were tied up at last. There was nothing more to be done but to die decently and in good order, devoutly calling on God 'whilst she had breath'.