Chapter XVII: The Reign of James I (4)

The youthful couple were so much pitied that they did not find it difficult to meet. Seymour bribed his keeper so effectually that he suffered him frequently to go out of the Tower, and he met Lady Arabella in the garden at Lambeth, and even in the house, unknown to Sir Thomas Parry. Meanwhile the friends of the young people were not inactive. They used all the means they could imagine to soften the mind of the king towards them; and the queen, who loved Arabella and received the most eloquent letters from her, praying her to exert her influence in her behalf, did her utmost to procure the liberation of her and her husband. Unfortunately, whispers of their stolen interviews reached James, and he sent instant orders to guard Seymour better, and to remove Lady Arabella to Durham, where she was to be in the keeping of the bishop. When the order reached Lady Arabella, she positively refused to go; but the officers carried her forcibly out in her bed, placed her in a boat, and rowed her up the river. In spite of her resistance, her keepers set forward on their journey; but by the time that they reached Barnet, her agitation of mind had thrown her into a fever, and the doctor declared that nothing but the discontinuance of the journey could save her life. He waited on the king himself and assured him of this. But though James confessed that carrying her away in her bed was enough to make her ill if she had been well, he was peremptory in his commands that she should proceed. To Durham she should go, he said, if he were king. To this the physician replied that the lady would obey if the king required it. "Obedience!" repeated James; "is that required?" But when his first anger was over he relented, and allowed her to remain for a month at Highgate in the house of the Earl of Essex. There she was closely watched; but on the 3rd of June, 1611, the very day that the Bishop of Durham set out northward to prepare for her reception, she effected her escape.

The plan of flight to the Continent had been carefully concerted between herself and her husband in the Tower, through the medium of two of Seymour's friends. It was arranged that Arabella should get away in male attire, and Seymour in the garb of a physician. A French vessel was engaged to lie off Gravesend to receive the fugitives, and carry them to the Continent. All was in readiness, and Arabella, says Winwood, "disguising herselfe by drawing a great pair of French-fashioned hose over her petticoats, putting on a man's doublet, a man-lyke peruque, with long locks over her hair, a black hat, black cloake, russet bootes with red tops, and a rapier by her syde, walked forth between three and four o'clock with Mr. Markham. After they had gone on foot a mile and a halfe to a sorry inne, where Crompton attended with their horses, she grew very sicke and fainte; so as the ostler that held the styrrup said that gentleman would hardly hold out to London. Yet being set on a good gelding a-stryde in an unwonted fashion, the stirring of the horse brought blood enough into her face, and so she rode on towards Blackwall."

Lady Arabella found boats and attendants ready to row her down to Gravesend, where she expected to find her husband. But Seymour had not been quite so expeditious in making his way out of the Tower. He had indeed effected it, and was on his way, but Lady Arabella, on getting on board, found that he had not arrived; and the French captain, aware of the serious nature of his commission, grew afraid, and in spite of Arabella's entreaties dropped down the river towards its mouth. Seymour, on finding that the vessel had sailed without him, engaged the captain of a collier for forty pounds to land him in Flanders.

No sooner was the news of Arabella's flight from Highgate conveyed to Court, than the utmost consternation prevailed. A messenger was despatched to the Tower to order the strictest surveillance of Seymour, but the man brought back the appalling tidings that he also had escaped. The terrors of a new conspiracy seized James and the courtiers. It was soon asserted that it was a design of the King of Spain and the Papists; that the fugitives were to be received in the Netherlands by the Spanish commander, and were to be brought to London at the head of a Catholic host.

Couriers were hurried off in all likely directions to intercept the culprits, and the Thames was astir with ships and boats to discover them on board any vessel there. In spite of this sharp pursuit, the collier put Seymour safe on shore in Flanders; but Lady Arabella was not so fortunate. The French vessel was chased and brought to in mid-channel. After some resistance it was boarded, and the unhappy princess seized, brought back, and secured in the Tower. Meanwhile James had written very angry letters to the archduke of Austria and the authorities of the Netherlands, as well as to the king and queen-regent of France, accusing them roundly of being accessory to the plot, and demanding them to send the fugitives back.

For a time Lady Arabella bore imprisonment better than could have been expected. She declared that she did not mind captivity for herself, so that her husband had escaped. Yet not the less did she appeal to the generosity of James for her liberty, nor relax her efforts to that end through the kind offices of the queen. But all such endeavours were useless: James had had too great a fright to risk anything more. He sent the lady word that as she had eaten of the forbidden fruit, she must now pay the penalty of it. All hope of moving the relentless soul of the royal pedant gradually forsook her, and then her splendidly sensitive mind gave way. She became a pitiable lunatic, and died in her prison on the 27th of September, 1615. James had thrown the Countess of Shrewsbury into the Tower at the same time with the Lady Arabella, on suspicion of being a party to the scheme; but that high-spirited lady refused to give an answer to any interrogatories put to her, notwithstanding menaces of the Star Chamber and heavy fines. On the death of Lady Arabella she was set at liberty.

In pursuing the fate of this ill-used lady to its close, we have passed over another tragedy, that of the popular but dissipated King Henry IV. of France. Notwithstanding his adoption of Catholicism, from motives of policy, it was believed that his heart was still with the Protestant cause, and the death of John, Duke of Cleves, Juliers, and Berg, which occurred in 1609, gave him an opportunity of serving that interest under the plea of political necessity. The Duke of Cleves had died without issue, and the Emperor of Germany seized it as a fief of the imperial crown. The Electors of Brandenburg and Saxony, and the Duke of Neuburg, also laid claim to it. Jealousy of the already too powerful and ambitious house of Austria combined against it the Protestant princes of Germany and Holland, and they were joined by Henry of France on the same political ground, whilst the King of Spain, the archduke, and other Catholic and kindred princes, supported the claims of Austria. James of England engaged to furnish four thousand infantry, and the King of France the same. The Protestant princes of Germany and Holland were to supply nine thousand foot and two thousand horse, and it was agreed that the Elector of Brandenburg should be acknowledged as the real heir.

Meanwhile Henry IV. did not confine himself to his quota of four thousand infantry. The moment appeared to him favourable for extending his own territory and power, and he appeared at the head of a splendid army of thirty thousand men, with a great train of artillery and camp supplies. Rumour was very busy on the appearance of this great force, that Henry was for apostatising a second time, or rather now going back to his original faith; and the priests diligently propagated the belief that he meant to make war on the Pope and restore Protestantism. These representations seem to have excited the brain of a mad young friar, of the name of Francis Ravaillac, who stabbed him in the streets of Paris, three days before his intended departure for the campaign (May 14, 1610). The murderer was put to the torture to force from him the names of his accomplices or instigators; but he persisted to the last in denying that he had any. Three times before had the life of Henry IV. been attacked by assassins: in 1593 by Pierre Barrière, in 1597 by Pierre Ouen, and in 1605 by Jean de l'Isle. Ravaillac succeeded, and suffered the reward of his deed in a terrible death. This horrible tragedy renewed the terror of the Catholics in England, and both the Parliament of England and the Council of Scotland called on James to secure himself by fresh persecution of them. The Scottish Council saw in the French assassins the frogs foretold in the Revelation, to be sent out by the devil against the head of the Church, and prayed the king to protect his precious life by fresh guards while he indulged himself in hunting.

Whilst James was earnestly engaged in suppressing any rival claims to the Crown by persecuting to death the Lady Arabella, he was equally busy in endeavouring to secure a succession in his own family. Though he persecuted the Catholics as a dangerous, sinful, and abominable body, he had no objection whatever to marry his children to Catholic princes, because they were by far the most considerable in Europe. Accordingly he made overtures for the marriage of his son Henry, and his daughter Elizabeth, both to France and Spain. Queen Anne was most bent on the Spanish matches for both son and daughter, and was therefore vehemently suspected of Popery, though her motives were the same as those of her husband--the rank and prestige of the alliance.

Prince Henry was the darling of his mother and of the nation. In appearance, temper, and aspirations the very opposite of his father. All persons, and especially all princes, who die young, are remembered with a peculiar affection; their virtues are exaggerated and live in memory as the roots of brilliant hopes cut off by fate. Time has not allowed the adverse influences of life and of royal power to corrupt them. Had Henry VIII. died young, he would have left a regretted name as a model of chivalric spirit and generous enthusiasm; yet we have no right to infer that Henry Prince of Wales, the eldest son of James, would have developed into such a character as the eighth Henry. He was a handsome, brave, and right-minded youth of eighteen, possessed of none of the timidity or the bookishness of his father, and very fond of all sorts of martial exercises--pitching the bar, handling the pike, riding, and shooting with the bow. Though extremely fond of horses, he was not, like his father, addicted to the chase, revolting from its cruelty. He seemed to have set before him as models Henry V. and the Black Prince; models which might have led him to inflict serious evils on his country had he lived, by the spirit of conquest. Young as he was, he displayed all the tastes of such a hero. He fired off cannon with his own hands, and had new pieces cast on improved models. He conversed with unceasing pleasure with engineers and men who had seen distinguished service, and he imported the finest horses from the Continent that could be procured. In his private character he was serious, modest, and devout. He attended the best preachers, and listened with a quiet sobriety in striking contrast to his father, who was always excited when listening to a preacher and wanting to preach himself. Henry abhorred profanity and swearing, and had a box in each of his houses at Richmond, Nonsuch, and St. James's to receive the fines for swearing from his household, which were rigorously levied, the money being given to the poor.

As these traits became known, the people flocked after the prince in a manner which much piqued his father, who could not help exclaiming--"Will he bury me alive!" The Reformers conceived great hopes of him, and there was a prophecy regarding him in every one's mouth:--

"Henry the Eighth pulled down abbeys and cells,
But Henry the Ninth shall pull down bishops and bells."

Had James succeeded in obtaining the Spanish Infanta for Henry, he would have effectually neutralised this popularity. But though Henry did not stubbornly oppose his father's plans, he is said to have declared amongst his own friends that he had made up his mind never to marry a Popish princess, and the Puritans had the firmest faith that he never would.

It was regarded as a good sign that the young prince was extremely averse from his father's favourites, and especially from Carr, who was rapidly rising, and had now been created Viscount Rochester. The queen, who shared this aversion, strengthened him in it with all her influence. But he was not destined to wear the crown of England: he was now attacked with symptoms of premature decay. It was supposed that he had grown too fast for his strength, having reached the stature of six feet at seventeen, and his chivalrous exercises had been too violent and imprudent for such rapid growth. He was accustomed to take his exercises in the greatest heat of summer, to expose himself to all sorts of weather, and to bathe for a long time together after supper. While James was planning marriages for him, the prince was fast hastening out of the world. The Spanish match still lingering, after years of negotiation, James listened to a proposal of Mary de Medici, the widow of Henry IV., and now Queen-Regent of France, for a wedding between Prince Henry and the Princess Christine, the second daughter of France, on the understanding that she should be educated as a Protestant. About the same time James agreed to a marriage between his daughter Elizabeth and the Protestant Elector Palatine. These marriages had been in accordance with the policy of Cecil, who wished to make them the basis of a Protestant alliance against the Catholic Powers. But the first of them was never to take place. In the spring of 1612 the health of Prince Henry began to fail. In the October of that year the Elector Palatine arrived in England to complete his marriage with Elizabeth, who was still only sixteen. Henry roused himself to receive his proposed brother-in-law; he rode to town from Richmond, and most imprudently, in his infirm state of health, engaged in the sports and pastimes of the occasion. On the 24th of October he played a great match at tennis with the Count Henry of Nassau in his shirt. He had been suffering from typhus already, and this brought it to a crisis. He was seized in the night with a violent pain in his head, and an oppressive languor; yet the next day, being Sunday, he would rise and attend two services, one in his own chapel at St. James's, and another at the king's in Whitehall. The text of the preacher at St. James's was remarkable:--"Man, that is born of a woman, is of short continuance and full of trouble." In the afternoon, after dinner, he was compelled to yield to the complaint, and hastened home to bed. By the 29th he was so ill that there was great dismay amongst the people, and this was immensely aggravated by a lunar rainbow, which appeared to span that part of the Palace of St. James's where the sick prince lay. The most fatal auguries were drawn from this phenomenon.

The fever now assumed a putrid form, and was declared by the medical men highly infectious; and his parents and sister were debarred from entering his room. He grew daily worse, was highly delirious, calling for his clothes and his arms, and saying he must be gone. On the 5th of November, the anniversary of the Gunpowder Plot, James was informed that all hope was extinct. Unable to bear his feelings so near the scene of sorrow, the king hastened away to Theobalds; but the queen would only retire to Somerset House, whence she sent continual messengers to inquire after her son's symptoms. The prince had entertained a romantic admiration of Sir Walter Raleigh, declaring that no prince but his father would keep such a bird in a cage, and he had joined with his mother in entreating for his liberty. To Sir Walter the life or death of the prince was life or death to himself. The agonised mother was now seized with a desperate desire to obtain from Raleigh a nostrum which he possessed, and which she had herself formerly taken in a fit of ague. Sir Walter sent it, with the assurance that it would cure any mortal malady except poison. After taking Raleigh's nostrum he seemed to revive for a time, but again became worse, and expired at eight o'clock on Friday night, the 6th of November.

Perhaps a more extraordinary 5th of November was never passed than the one preceding Henry's death. The people were assembled in dense crowds around the palace, eagerly listening for news of the prince's condition, while all around them were the noises--the firing, and the bonfires--of the celebration of the Gunpowder Plot. They were still remaining there the following day, and when the cry of the prince's servants was heard in the palace on beholding him dead, the people groaned and wept in agony. The Catholics, on their part, regarded the death of the first-born of the royal house as a manifest judgment for the persecution of their Church.