What with the flying Birds and skipping Frogs

Today's post explores a fancy 17th Century Christmas banquet as described by the author of a popular cook book. Before describing the requisite festive courses deemed appropriate for impressing guests, he provides detailed instructions on how to make a truly baffling centrepiece, complete with gunpowder, live frogs, and a marzipan-esque castle.

Make the likeness of a Ship in Paste board [a soft sweet mixture made from ground sugar and spices. Akin to marzipan], with Flags and streamers, the Guns belonging to it of Kickses [?], binde them about with packthred [twine], and cover them with course paste proportionable to the fashion of a Cannon with Carriages, lay them in places convenient, as you see them in Ships of War; with such holes and trains of Powder that they may all take Fire. Place your Ship in a great Charger [large dish or plate], then make a salt around about it, and stick therein egg-shells full of sweet water; you may by a great Pin take out all the meat out of the Egg by blowing, and then fill it with rose-water. 

Then in another Charger have the proportion of a Stag made of course paste, with a broad arrow in the side of him, and his body filled up with claret wine. In another Charger, at the end of the Stag, have the proportion of a Castle with Battlements, Percuilices, Gates and Draw-bridges made of Paste-board, the Guns of Kickses, and covered with course Paste as the former. Place it a distance from the Ship to fire at each other. The Stag being plac't betwixt them with egg-shells full of sweet-water (as before) place in salt. 

At each side of the Charger wherein is the Stag, place a Pie made of course Paste, in one of which let there be some live Frogs, in the other live Birds. Make these Pies of course Paste filled with bran, and yellowed over with Saffron or Yolks of Eggs. Gild them over in Spots, as also the Stag, the Ship, and Castle. Bake them and place with with gilt bay-leaves on the torrets and tunnels of the Castle and Pies. Being baked, make a hole in the bottom of your pies, take out the bran, put in your Frogs and Birds, and close up the holes with the same course paste. Then cut the Lids neatly up, to be take off by the Tunnels. 

Being all placed upon the Table, before you fire the trains of powder (!), order it so that some of the Ladies may be peswaded to pluck the Arrow out of the Stag, then will the Claret wine follow as blood running out of a wound. This being done with admiration to the beholders, after some sort of short paws, fire the train of the Castle, that the pieces all on one side may go off. Then fire the the trains on one side of the Ship as in a battle. Next turn the Chargers, and by degrees fire the trains off each other side as before. Let the Ladies take the egg-shells full of sweet-water and throw them at each other. 

All dangers being seemingly over, by this time you may suppose they will desire to see what is in the Pies; where lifting first the lid off one pie, out skips some Frogs, which makes the Ladies to skip and shreek, next after the other Pie, whence out comes the Birds, who by a natural instinct flying at the light, will put out the Candles, so that what with the flying Birds, and skipping Frogs, the one above, the other beneath, will cause much delight and pleasure to the whole company. At length the Candles are lighted, and a banquet brought in, the music sounds, and every one is much delighted and content. 

Having survived this table-piece, the guests are then treated to a staggering banquet:

A Bill of Fare for Christmas Day and how to set the Meat in order 

Oysters
A coller of Brawn
Stewed broth of Mutton marrow bones
A grand Sallet [salad]
A pottage of caponets [small capons]
A breast of veal in stoffado [stuffed]  
A boiled partridge
A chine [back] of beef or sirloin roast
Minced pies
A Jegote [sausage] of mutton with anchovy sauce
A made dish of sweet-breads
A swan roast
A pasty of venison
A kid with a pudding in his belly
A steak pie
A haunch of venison roasted
A turkey roast and stuck with cloves
A made dish of chickens in puff-paste
Two brangeese roasted, one larded
Two large capons, one larded
A Custard 

The Second course 

Oranges and Lemons
A young lamb or kid
Two couple of rabits, two larded
A pig sauced with tongues
Three ducks, one larded
Three pheasants, one larded
A swan pie
Three brace of partridge, three larded
Made dish in puffe-paste
Bolonia sausages and anchovies, mushrooms and Caviare, and pickled Oysters in a dish
Six teels, three larded
A Gammon of Westphalia Bacon
Ten plovers, five larded,
A quince pie
Six woodcocks, three larded
A standing Tart in puffe-paste, preserved fruits, Pippins etc
A dish of Larks
Six dried neats-tongues
Sturgeon
Powdered Geese
Jellies

If you fancy your hand at authentic 17th Century mince pies, the author provides several recipes, including this one:

To make minced Pies  

Take to a good leg of veal six pound of beef-suet, then take the leg of veal, bone it, parboil it, and mince it very fine when it is hot. Mince the suet by it self very fine also, then when they are cold mingle them together, then season the meat with a pound of sliced dates, a pound of sugar, an ounce of nutmeg, an ounce of pepper, an ounce of cinnamon, half an ounce of ginger, half a pint of verjuyce [juice of unripe grapes or sour crab-apples], a pint of rosewater, a preserved orange, or any peel fine minced, an ounce of caraway comfets [a small tablet of sugar enclosing a caraway seed], and six pound of currants. Put all these into a large tray with half a handful of salt. Stir them up all together and fill your pies, close them, bake them, and being baked, ice them with double refined sugar, rose-water, and butter. Make the paste with a peck of flour, and two pound of butter boiled in fair water, make it up boiling hot.

I'll be following up this post with more recipes in the new year. For now, Shakespeare's England wishes everyone a a very Merry Christmas.

How Gray-Hairs are dyed Black

These beauty tips come from a 17th Century book of magic. With advice on everything from removing pimples to making fake tan, what follows are some of the more intriguing suggestions, demonstrating that women in 17th Century London were just as preoccupied with grey hairs and wrinkles as their modern-day counterparts.

How to correct the ill sent of the Arm-pits. The stink of the Arm-holes makes some women very hateful, especially those that are fat and fleshy. Use liquid Allome with Myrrh to anoynt the Arm-pits, or strew the place with dry Leaves of Myrtles in powder. The Roots of Artichokes smeared on doth not only cure the ill sent of the Arm-pits but of the whole body.

It is the singular care of Women to adorn their Hair, and next their Faces, for Women hold the Hair to be the  greatest Ornament of the Body, that if it be taken away, all the Beauty is gone, and they think it the more beautiful the more yellow, shining, and radiant it is.

To make Hair yellow, put Barley-Straw into an earthen pot with a great mouth, Feny-Graec [fenugreek] and wild Cummin. Mingle between them Quick-lime and Tobacco made into a Powder, then put them upon the Straw. Put one under the other [making layers as it were] until the whole Vessel be full. Pour on cold water and let them stand a whole day. Then open a hole at the bottom and let it run forth. With Sope use it for your Hair.

The most famous way to make the Hair yellow is to draw Oyle from Honey by the Art of Distillation. First there will come forth a clear Water, then a Saffron-colour, then a Gold-colour. Use this to anoint the Hair with a Spunge, but let it not touch the Skin, for it will dye it Saffron-colour and it is not easily washed off. This tincture will last many days and it will dye Gray-Hairs which few others will.

How Gray Hairs are dyed Black: Anonynt your Hair in the Sun with Leeches that have lain to corrupt in the blackest Wine for sixty days. For long black Hair, take a green Lizard, and cutting off the Head and Tail, boyl it in common Oyle and anoint your Head with it.

Curl'd Hair seems to be no small Grace and Ornament to the Head, and women do all they can to curl the Hair. If you will know how, boyl Maidenhair with Smallage-seed in Wine, adding a good quantity of Oyle, this will make the Hair curl'd and thick. Moreover if you put the Roots of Daffidils into Wine and pour this often on the Head, it will make the Hair curl more.

To dye the Eye-brows. Bitume or Sea-Cole being burnt it is a very fine black, or else the Marrow of an Ox-bone taken out of the Right-Leg and beaten with Soot

Before any thing be used to make the Face beautiful, it must be made very clean and fit to receive it, for oft-times women have excellent Waters and Remedies. This is the best: Bind Barley-meal-Bran in a Linen cloth and let it down into a Pot full of water, and let it boyl till a third part be remaining, and press out the juice. With this decoction wash your face and let it dry. Then bruise Myrhh and mingle it with the white of an Egg, and burn it on hot Fire-sticks or red hot Tiles, and receive the fume by a tunnel. Cover the head with a Napkin, that the smoke flie not away, and when you have received sufficient smoke, rub your Face with a Linen cloth. 

To make the Face very soft boyl two Calfs Feet in water, put in Rice one pound, and boyl it well. Let crumbs of Bread steep in Asses or Goats Milk with ten whites of Eggs bruised with their Shells. Distill all at a gentle fire, add to the water with a little Camphire and Borax. Put into a vessel two yong naked Pigeons, with their guts taken forth, and put in as much Milk as will cover them. Add one ounce of Borax, Turpentine three ounces, Camphire one ounce, five whites of Eggs. Put on the cover and distill them.

To colour the body, boyl Nettles in water and wash your Body with it. If you distill Straw-berries and wash your self with the water you shall make your Face red as a Rose.

How to make a Sun-burnt Face white. When women travel in the open Air, and take journeys in Summer, the Sun in one day will burn them black. To remove this, beat about ten whites of Eggs, put them in a glazed Vessel adding once ounce of Sugar-Candy, and when you go to bed anoynt your Face, and in the morning wash it off with Fountain water. If the Face be smeered with the white of an Egg, it will not be sun-burn. Women that have to do in the Sun defend their Faces from the heat of it with the white of an Egg beaten with a little Starch and mingled, and when the Voyage is done, they wash off this covering with Barley-Water. Some rub their foul Skin with Melon-Rindes, and so they easily rub off Sun-burnings and all other sports on the skin.

For a wrinkled face. When Eggs are boiled hard in water, cut them in the middle. Fill the holes where the yokes were with Powder of Myrrh, then over one with the other binder them with a thread. Then take a glazed vessel and lay sticks across it that the Eggs may lie upon them hanging neere the bottom. Put the vessel into a Well and let it hang one foot from the water. By the moysture thereof the Myrrh will dissolve into Oyle of water. Anonynt your face with it. The juice of the green Cones of the Pine tree, being applied to the Face with a Linnen-cloth wet therein will take away all wrinkles from the Face excellently well.

The Gin Lane Gazette

Today, Adrian Teal shares details of his forthcoming book.

The GIN LANE GAZETTE

   By Adrian Teal

In around 1800, a horrible old lecher called the Duke of Queensbury was obsessed with prolonging his youth and virility. Somehow or other, he got the idea into his head that sleeping with veal chops on his cheeks (which he fed to his dogs in the morning) and taking lengthy milk baths would do the trick. He had large quantities of milk delivered to his London pad, and would wallow contentedly for hours on end. A rumour soon started doing the rounds that he was then selling the milk back to the supplier, so huge numbers of people in London stopped drinking the stuff.

Stories like this tickle my fancy immeasurably and, if they tickle yours too, I bring you glad tidings: I’m writing a whole book of them.

The crowd-funded publishing venture, Unbound, has attracted brilliant writers like Monty Python’s Terry Jones and comic novelist Tibor Fischer to their ranks, and they are now pitching my book proposal via their website. It’s a bawdy romp called The GIN LANE GAZETTE, and will be an illustrated compendium of scurrilous highlights from a fictional Georgian newspaper, dealing with true stories of scandal, intrigue and oddities; a kind of Georgian Heat magazine, if you like.

In addition to gossip columns about ill-behaved eighteenth-century celebs, there will be sports reports, book reviews, obituaries, advertisements for bizarre Georgian goods, services and entertainments, and a ‘courtesan of the month’ feature for reading under the bedclothes. It will have warmth, humour, authenticity, and riotous caricatures disporting themselves across every page.

If my pitch attracts enough pledges, it will be published, and those who subscribe will have their names listed in the back of the book, and can also enjoy many splendid Georgian-themed perks, which include having yourself caricatured as an eighteenth-century belle or buck, and a Georgian pub crawl. You can come to the launch party, and even have yourself drawn into the book, if you like.

This was an age when alcoholic Prime Minsiters fought duels with political opponents, equestrian entertainers rode standing on their saddles while wearing a mask of bees, and quack doctors diagnosed their patients’ maladies by licking the soles of their feet. In undertaking this labour of love I have set out to give people a taste of the exuberance, self-confidence, debauchery, elegance, bravery, villainy, inventiveness and eccentricity which characterize this glorious period of our history, and I hope you will choose to come along for the ride.

You can watch my short video about the project, read my pitch, and pledge, if you like what you see, here

Delightfully worried to death by dogs

Today's post comes from guest blogger Simon Leake, who explores the curious and often over-looked early modern bloodsport of Horse Baiting.

There are many surviving eyewitness reports of bull and bear-baiting throughout England from the Middle Ages to the early 19th Century. The baiting of horses however seems to have been much less frequent, or less frequently described. Joseph Strutt, in The Sports and Pastimes of the People of England from the Earliest Period (1801) reproduces this image of “the cruel diversion of baiting a horse with dogs, from a fourteenth century manuscript.”

Strutt’s claim is repeated in several subsequent books on the subject, and even finds its way into Chamber’s The Medieval Stage (1903). In more than one of these later books, the baited animal in the image is given a mane

but closer examination of the manuscript upon which Strutt bases his claim, 'The Queen Mary Psalter' (MS Royal 2.VII), reveals that the animal in question is clearly a horned bull (see title image) and not a horse.

When horses appear in the Bear Gardens of 16th Century London, they are usually at the end of the bill, sent into the ring with apes tied to their backs. A report from an attendant to the Duke of Nájera, visiting London in 1544, shows that this entertainment was not without violence:

Into the same place they brought a pony with an ape fastened on its back, and to see the animal kicking amongst the dogs, with the screams of the ape, beholding the curs hanging from the ears and neck of the pony, is very laughable.

On the 23rd of August 1584 the German traveller Lupold von Wedel crossed the river to Southwark to see a bear baiting. After watching three bears fight with dogs, but before the baiting of a bull, “a horse was brought in and chased by the dogs.” The performance ended with dancing, fighting, a shower of bread and apples, and a fireworks display.



During the first half of the 17th Century horses continued to have a secondary role in the bloody business of the bear-garden. In his ‘Bull, Beare, and Horse, Cut, Curtail and Longtail’ (1638) John Taylor, the Water Poet, describes the appearance of the mounted ape on his Bear Garden palfrey:

Where Iack-an-Apes his horse doth swiftly run 

His circuit, like the horses of the Sun. 

And quicke as lightning, his will trace and track,
Making that endlesse round his Zodiacke, 

Which Iacke (his Rider) bravely rides a straddle, 

And in his hot Careere perfumes the saddle

It is in Restoration London that we find specific references to the baiting of horses, and these events seem to have caused a degree of anxiety that was absent from the baiting of bears and bulls. In both of the following examples the promoters of the event take pains to emphasise the unnatural viciousness of the animal, perhaps attempting to justify the baiting as a form of execution as much as a sport. On the 17th of August 1667 John Evelyn wrote in his diary:

There was now a very gallant horse to be baited to death with doggs; but he fought them all, so as the fiercest of them could not fasten on him, till they run him through with their swords. This wicked and barbarous sport deserv'd to have ben punish'd in the cruel contrivers to get mony, under pretence that the horse had kill'd a man, which was false. I would not be persuaded to be a spectator.

On the 7th of April 1682 the following advertisement ran in Nathaniel Thomson’s newspaper, The Loyal Protestant and True Domestick Intelligence:

London, April 7. At the house on the Bankside, being his Majesties Bear-garden, on Wednesday the 12th day of this instant April, at one of the clock in the afternoon, will be a Horse baited to death, of a most vast strength and greatness, being between 18 and 19 hands high, formerly belonging to the Earl of Rochester, and for his prodigious qualities in killing and destroying several horses, and other cattel, he was transmitted to the Marquiss of Dorchester; where doing the like mischiefs, and also hurting his keeper, he was sold to a brewer; but is now grown so headstrong they dare not work him; for he hath bitten and wounded so many persons (some having died of their wounds) that there is hardly any can pass the streets for him, though he be fast tied; for he breaks his halter to run after them (though loaden with eight barrels of beer), either biting or treading them down, monstrously tearing their flesh, and eating it, the like whereof hath hardly been seen. And 'tis certain the horse will answer the expectation of all spectators. It is intended for the divertisement of his Excellency the Embassadour from the Emperour of Fez and Morocco; many of the nobility and gentry that knew the horse, and several mischiefs done by him, designing to be present.

The venue for this event was Philip Henslowe and Jacob Meade’s Hope Theatre, which had opened in 1614 on the site of the earlier Bear Garden as a dual-purpose venue. By 1682 the Hope was used exclusively for bloodsports, but this event did not go exactly according to plan and the monstrous, murderous horse almost won a reprieve:

London, April 15. This day, the great Horse mentioned in our last being brought to the Bear-garden, several dogs were set upon him, all which he overcame, to the great satisfaction of all the spectators. But, after a little time, a person resolving to save his life, and preserve him for another time, led him away; and being come almost as far as London bridge, the Mobile then in the house cryed out it was a cheat, and thereupon began to untyle the house, and threatened to pull it quite down, if the Horse were not brought again and baited to death. Whereupon the Horse was again brought to the place, and the dogs once more set upon him; but they not being able to overcome him, he was run through with a sword, and dyed. It was designed principally for the entertainment of his Excellency the Embassadour from the Emperour of Fez and Morocco; but, by reason of bad weather, he was not there.

Soon after the baiting of the Earl of Rochester’s horse the Hope appears to have been abandoned as a venue for bloodsports. A new Bear Garden opened at Hockley-in-the-Hole, Clerkenwell, where animals were baited and men fought until the 1730s:

At the Bear-garden in Hockley in the Hole, near Clerkenwell Green, 1710. This is to give notice to all gentlemen, gamesters, and others, that on this present Monday is a match to be fought by two dogs, one from Newgate-market, against one from Honey-lane market, at a bull, for a guinea to be spent, five let-goes out of hand, which goes fairest and fastest in, wins all. Likewise, a green bull to be baited, which was never baited before; and a bull to be turned loose with fireworks all over him. Also a mad ass to be baited. With a variety of bull-baiting and bear-baiting, and a dog to be drawn up with fireworks. To begin exactly at three of the clock.

A much later reference to horse-baiting, from the notes to Alexander Chalmers 1822 edition of The Tatler shows how attitudes to some bloodsports began to change as the 18th century drew to a close:

…it was advertised in 1785, that a fine horse, brought at great expense from Arabia, would be delightfully worried to death by dogs, in an inclosure near the Adam and Eve, in Tottenham-court-road; and to exclude low company, every admission-ticket was to cost half-a-guinea. But the interposition of the magistrates, who doubted of the innocence, or of the wisdom of training dogs and horses to mutual enmity, put a stop for once to that superfine exhibition.

Simon Leake lives in Seattle with his wife and daughter. He tries to be kind to his cat. You can follow him on Twitter here

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Blanket Fair

This woodcut depicts a Blanket Fair on the frozen Thames in 1684. The detail is really lovely. Download the image to explore.

The ballad which follows describes the Blanket Fair itself:

BLANKET-FAIR, OR THE History of Temple Street. Being a Relation of the merry Pranks plaid on the River Thames during the great Frost.
To the Tune of Packington's Pound. 

Come listen a while (though the Weather be cold)
In your Pockets & Plackets your Hands you may hold.
I'll tell you a Story as true as 'tis rare,
Of a River turn'd into a Bartholmew Fair.
Since old Christmas last
There has bin such a Frost,
That the Thimes has by half the whole Nation bin crost.
O Scullers I pity your fate of Extreams,
Each Land-nan is now become free of the Thames. 

'Tis some Lapand Acquaintance of Conjurer Oates,
That has ty'd up your Hands & imprison'd your Boats.
You know he was ever a friend to the Crew
Of all that to Admiral Iames has bin true.
Where Sculls once did Row
Men walk to and fro,
But e're four months are ended 'twill hardly be so.
Should your hopes of a thaw by this weather be crost,
Your Fortunes vould soon be as hard as the Frost. 

In Roast Beef and Brandy much money is spent
In Booths made of Blankets that pay no Ground-rent,
With old fashiond Chimneys the Rooms are secur'd,
And the Housed from danger of Fire ensur'd.
The chief place you meet
Is call'd Temple Street,
If you do not believe me, then you may go see't.
From the Tempe the Students do thither resort,
Tho were always great Patrons of Revels and sport. 

The Citizen comes with his Daughter or Wife,
And swears he never saw such a sight in his life:
the Prentices starv'd at home for want of Coals
catch them a heat do flock thither in shoals;
While the Country Squire
Does stand and admire
The wondrous conjunction of Water and Fire.
it comes an arch Wag, a young Son of a Whore,
lays the Squires head where his heels were before. 

The Rotterdam Dutchman with fleet cutting Scates,
To pleasure the crowd shews his tricks and his feats,
Who like a Rope-dancer (for all his sharp Steels)
His Brains and activity lie in his Heels.
Here all things like fate
Are in slippery state,
From the Sole of the Foot to the Crown of the Pate.
While the Rabble in Sledges run giddily round,
And nought but a circle of folly is found. 

Here Damsels are handed like Nymphs in the Bath,
By Gentlemen-Ushers with Legs like a Lath;
They slide to a Tune, and cry give me your Hand,
When the tottering Fops are scarce able to stand.
Then with fear and with care
They arrive at the Fair,
Where Wenches fell Glasses and crakt Earthen ware;
To shew that the World, and the pleasures it brings,
Are made up of brittle and slippery things. 

A Spark of the Bar with his Cane and his Muff,
One day went to treat his new rigg'd Kitchinstuff,
Let slip from her Gallant, the gay Damsel try'd
(As oft she had done in the Country) to slide,
In the way lay a stump,
That with a dam'd thump,
She broke both her Shoostrings and crippl'd her Rump.
The heat of her Buttocks made such a great thaw,
She had like to have drowned the man of the Law. 

All you that are warm both in Body and Purse,
I give you this warning for better or worse,
Be not there in the Moonshine, pray take my advice,
For slippery things have bin done on the Ice
Maids there have been said
To lose Maiden-head,
And Sparks from full Pockets gone empty to Bed·
If their Brains and their Bodies had not bin too warm,
'Tis forty to one they had come to less harm. 

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Far out of frame this Midsummer moone

Arabella Stuart

These fragments form an overview of the life of Arabella Stuart, cousin to James I, and niece to Mary, queen of Scots. An illegal marriage, followed by an attempted escape to France in men's clothing, and finally committal to the Tower of London where she subsequently starved to death, Arabella Stuart's life makes for intriguing reading.

Arabella Stuart was the daughter of Charles Stuart, Earl of Lennox, and his wife Elizabeth. She was born c.10th November 1575; Arabella's grandmother, Margaret Douglas, dowager countess of Lennox, wrote to Arabella's aunt, Mary, queen of Scots, after her birth, thanking her ‘for your good remembrance and bounty to our little daughter’. Arabella's father died of tuberculosis in 1576 and his title unfortunately passed down the male line. Two years later, Arabella's grandmother died; all her property and estate passing to Elizabeth I. So by the age of three, Arabella's income had all but disappeared. But she was still a person of considerable status. She was first cousin to James VI of Scotland, later James I of England, which put her in line for both the English and Scottish thrones. There were some political commentators at the time who even went so far as to suggest Arabella should succeed Elizabeth I if she died without issue, since her grandmother had been first cousin to the Queen, and Arabella, unlike James VI, had been born in England.

After the death of her mother in 1582, the 7-year-old Arabella was brought up by her maternal grandmother, Bess of Hardwick, at Hardwick Hall in Derbyshire. She had an excellent classical education, learning Latin, Greek, Italian, Hebrew, French and Spanish. Both Mary, queen of Scots, who was by then a prisoner under the care of Bess's husband, and Bess campaigned fiercely to have the Lennox earldom restored to Arabella without success.

Hardwick Hall

A year later, marriage plans were devised to ensure Arabella's match with a suitably well-placed husband. Given her dynastic importance, she was a highly desirable bride, and in 1583-4, at the age of 8 or 9, Bess arranged Arabella's betrothal to Robert, Lord Denbigh, three-year-old son of Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester. Unfortunately Robert died in 1584, and despite talk of Arabella as a possible wife for James VI himself, a suggestion which did not come to fruition, and several other potential marriage candidates, Elizabeth I vetoed every suitor, possibly out of fear that any children Arabella bore would become rivals for her throne.




In 1588, aged 13, Arabella became a lady in waiting at Elizabeth's court. She was described at the time as an 'elaborately dressed girl with reddish fair hair, a heart-shaped face, large, bright, dark blue eyes, and a neat little mouth.' But her position was short-lived. Seen conversing in a rather friendly way with the Earl of Essex, Arabella was sent home in disgrace. For the next twelve years she was confined to pursuing her studies at her grandmother's home in Derbyshire. Over the course of time Arabella grew increasingly frustrated with her strict grandmother, and following several bitter quarrels, she eventually decided to escape. In December 1602, she sent a message to Edward Seymour, first Earl of Hertford, advising him she intended to accept the marriage proposal of his grandson Edward Seymour. This was a disastrous move on the part of Arabella. The Seymours had a rival claim to the English throne and any involvement with Arabella would hint at a direct plot against Elizabeth I. Wisely, Seymour denied all knowledge of Arabella's marriage plans, and reported the affair to the court. A courtier was dispatched to interview Arabella, and satisfied by her answers, he reported back to the queen that Arabella's plans were nothing more than an unhappy attempt at attention-seeking. By early 1603, Arabella was once again agitating to leave home, announcing she had a secret lover, refusing to eat and drink, and finally divulging her lover's identity as the already married James VI. The Earl of Salisbury wrote on the back of one of her agitated letters ‘I think that she hath some vapours on her brain’.

A young Arabella

Elizabeth I died in March 1603, and with the accession of James I, Arabella's situation should have improved. James was initially inclined to be kind towards her, but it wasn't long before a scandal broke in which Lord Cobham was accused of plotting to murder James and the Earl of Salisbury, and marry Arabella off to Thomas Grey to place her on the throne. Fortunately for Arabella she had not been personally involved in this treason; indeed she claimed she had only received one letter about the plot, which she had laughed at and passed on to the king. James must have believed her because she was subsequently invited to court, given a handsome pension, and made carver to his wife, Anne. Arabella hated life at court but she was glad of the income, and in 1605 she seems to have impressed the queen sufficiently to be named godmother to the princess Mary.

In 1607, the Venetian ambassador noted that Arabella, was ‘not very beautiful but highly accomplished, for besides being of the most refined manners, she speaks fluently Latin, Italian, French, Spanish, reads Greek and Hebrew and is always studying’. Most of Arabella's time was spent at court, with occasional visits to Hardwick Hall. After her grandmother's death in 1608, Arabella bought a house in the precinct of Blackfriars. Following an attack of smallpox at Christmas, she travelled north to take the waters at Buxton and visit friends in the area. She was still harbouring hopes the king would find her a suitable husband, but when it became apparent he was as unwilling to encourage a match as Elizabeth I had been, she once again turned unwisely to the Seymour family.

William Seymour (1588-1660)

At 4am on 22nd June 1610, 35-year-old Lady Arabella Stuart secretly married another grandson of Edward Seymour, 22-year-old William, in her apartments at Greenwich Palace. It took seventeen days for the marriage to be discovered. Seymour was sent to the Tower, and Arabella was held in Lambeth. Despite this, they somehow arranged to meet, since in September Arabella suffered a miscarriage. As a result of the marriage, James exiled her to Durham. Her keepers claimed ill health prevented her from making the journey; a report to court dated early 1611 claims 'Lady Arabella dressed herself as well as her extreme weakness would permit, and showed 'readiness to remove', but she then 'had a violent attack in the head' which prevented her from undertaking the journey. Two days before she was due to depart, she disguised herself as a man and escaped. An eye witness reported her appearance: 'a large pair of French-fashioned hose, a man's doublet, a large peruke with long locks, a black hat, black cloak.' Another describes her as wearing 'russet boots with red tops, and a rapier by her side.' Seymour was also in disguise. Despite being imprisoned in the Tower, he somehow managed to sneak out, planning to meet Arabella at an agreed location before they fled to France.

By some means he obtained a disguise consisting of a peruque and beard of black hair, and a tawny suit. A labourer came to the great west gate of the Tower with a cart, bringing his billets of wood, and Seymour  walked alone without suspicion from his lodging, following this cart as it returned. He walked along by the Tower Wharf, by the Warders of the South Gate, and so to the iron gate, where he found Rodney waiting with a boat for him'. 

Tower of London (1640)

William had arranged to meet Arabella at Blackwall, but when he failed to appear, her servants encouraged her to board a ship for France without delay. However, Arabella insisted on waiting for William, and as the ship lingered in the Channel, it was overtaken and intercepted by an English naval vessel. Arabella was immediately transported to the Tower, and, in an ironic twist, William escaped and sailed safely over to Ostend. On her arrival at the Tower, the keeper searched Arabella and found large amounts of precious jewellery, and over three hundred thousand pounds in cash.

Letters exchanged at the time detail the belongings Arabella was allowed to keep with her for comfort in the Tower. An inventory includes a cup worth £40 (almost four thousand pounds), six silver dishes, four candlesticks, bedding, a basin and jug, wall hangings, and assorted books. She was initially kept in the Queen's lodgings with three or four rooms to walk in and eventually allowed to have servants. To celebrate the royal wedding in 1612 she was even permitted a spot of shopping; a report to court states Arabella 'has shown her joy' at the royal wedding 'by buying four new gowns, one of which cost 1500l' (c.£150,000).

Queen's House, Tower of London

While she was imprisoned, Arabella wrote pleading letters to court, and worked on a piece of embroidery as a gift for the king, which he eventually refused. She also wrote to her husband, who was living in exile in Paris:

Sir, I am exceeding sorry to hear you have not been well. I pray you let me know truly how you do and what was the cause of it for I am not satisfied with the reason Smith gives for it.But if it be a cold I will impute it to some sympathy betwixt us, having myself gotten a swoln cheek at the same time with a cold. For God's sake, let not your grief of mind work upon your body. You may see by me what inconveniences it will bring one to. And no fortune, I assure you, daunts me so much as that weakness of body I find in myself, for 'si nous vivons Vage d'un veau' as Marot says, we may by God's grace be happier than we look for in being suffered to enjoy ourselves with his Majesty's favour. But if we be not able to live to it, I, for my part, shall think myself a pattern of misfortune in enjoying so great a blessing as you so little a while. No separation but that deprives me of the comfort of you for wheresoever you be, or in what state it sufficeth me you are mine. Rachel wept, and would not be comforted, because her children were no more; and that indeed is the remediless sorrow, and none else. And therefore God bless us from that, and I will hope well of the rest, though I see no apparent hope. But I am sure God's book mentioneth many of his children in as great distress that have done well after, even in this world. I assure you, nothing the State can do with me can trouble me so much as this news of your being ill doth. And you see when I am troubled, I trouble you too with tedious kindness, for so I think you will account so long a letter, yourself not having written to me for this good while so much as how you do. But sweet sir, I speak not this to trouble you with writing but when you please. Be well, and I shall account myself happy in being your faithful loving wife,

Arabella 

By 1615, Arabella realised the authorities were unlikely to relent and issue her with a pardon, and she became dangerously ill, her condition most likely compounded by her refusal to eat. Described in 1614 as 'far out of frame this Midsummer moone', by the following year Arabella had starved herself to the point of death. She collapsed and died on 25th September 1615, and was buried in Westminster Abbey two days later in the royal vault beneath the coffin of Mary, queen of Scots. All ceremony was forbidden.

Mary, queen of Scots in Westminster Abbey

William Seymour remained in exile until January 1616. His appointment to the Order of the Bath the following November signalled his return to court, and he became chancellor of the University of Oxford in 1643. Having served in the Civil War, he eventually died the second Duke of Somerset in 1660.

Sources: Rosalind Marshall at the DNB; Elizabeth Cooper, The Life and Letters of Arabella Stuart, Vol 2 (1866); Calendar of State Papers Domestic.