by David Elias
Thereafter came a protracted period during which I managed little more than to carry on a dull shuffle through each day. Weighed down by demands I was powerless to refuse, not quite present to my own company, let alone that of others, I felt much as Mr. Shakespeare’s Danish Prince, set about on all sides by “the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to.” This was the very seed of my affliction. I wanted only to slink away, hunker down in some dark and gloomy corner for fear of yet another jolt to my senses. My dreams became all the more bizarre, my waking and sleeping hardly distinguishable one from the other, day and night blurred into a dull grey. Lady Anne pleaded that I should allow myself to be attended to by my physicians, but I knew they would only attribute my disposition to an imbalance of humours and offer the usual ineffectual treatments.
I would have been content to spend my days in solitude, to live as a recluse indefinitely, if not for my father’s insistence that the period of mourning, though hardly begun, should now be brought to an abrupt halt and preparations made for a royal wedding. I did not fight him. I was broken. Else I should have chosen instead to devote my energies to carrying on, in Henry’s memory, those various endeavours he had undertaken which would otherwise go unfinished, and see them brought to fruition.
Instead I allowed myself to be dragged about from one ceremony to the next, beginning with the betrothal, to be dressed and undressed, courted and feted, all while the lion’s share of my inner nature cowered elsewhere, held captive in some netherworld of unseen torture and despair that gave me to feel as though an enormous black fist were looming over me, waiting to strike me into a stupor if I should weaken my resolve not to give in, not to let go of myself entirely.
My mother, never one to miss an opportunity for lavish spending, set aside her objections to the match and took it as an opportunity to ensure that the wedding celebrations should include a masque as elaborate as any she had ever staged. She set about commissioning various stage designs and costumes, musical compositions and theatrical scenes, while my father saw to ever more lavish enhancements of his palace at Whitehall, so that between the two of them the exchequer was soon emptied of what little funds remained, after which their methods of acquiring additional monies tested further the already tenuous good will of Parliament.
But then, in the midst of this near-madness, I awoke one morning to a new kind of frenzied vitality coursing through me, an edgy desperation I could control, and so put to good use. I realized that there was no going back, that nothing was ever going to be the same and that I, Elizabeth Stuart, was never again going to be the person I was before. It didn’t matter that my brother might have been poisoned, that his ghost might have visited itself upon me, that I might never be restored. What mattered was not to give in, to put the lie to the urge I entertained in secret hours that I should follow my brother into oblivion. Better to infuse myself with a will, put this torturous change in me to better use, and live.
How profound a transformation followed! Passion, born of urgency, galvanized by my heightened sense of fragility, overtook me. Thereafter I spent all of my chaotic days and sleepless nights contriving feverish schemes, frantic plots, laid the groundwork for a frenzy of excess designed to play my father and mother at their own game. I devoted myself entirely to such duties and privileges as befell a bride-to-be, ordered a new wardrobe and returned at once to court, that engine of manipulation and subterfuge which I would harness to my own ends. The lords and ladies remarked, upon my return, that I seemed enraptured with a renewed zest for life.
In fact, I was in the throes of cobbling together a new Elizabeth for myself, different from the one I had imagined, she being now forever lost to me. Lady Anne, cautiously enthusiastic at my restored animation, sensed that I was not truly cured of my ailment, but allowed that it was better than moping about all day. Frederick, though somewhat unsettled, welcomed my seeming embrace of the wedding and his company in the bargain. As for my parents, they hardly took notice but for the fact that as lavishly as they were spending, I now seemed eager to spend even more, making all manner of outrageous demands.
It could be almost anything that came to mind. One moment I demanded that my wedding gown must be embroidered with silver thread, the next that I should be granted seventeen pairs of silk stockings as part of my trousseau, one for every year of my young life and another for good luck. I insisted that a mock sea battle should be staged upon the Thames on the eve of my wedding, followed by a massive fireworks display. The Royal Chapel at Whitehall must be decked out in ever more elaborate arrangements of flowers and garland for the ceremony — oh, and silver medallions were to be struck in commemoration of the occasion. If my father objected to any of my stipulations, I would wait for the appropriate moment when he was at court and there, in front of everyone, make some remark such as, “I hope it shall not be whispered about that the Scottish King was too piddling to provide his only daughter a proper send-off.”
As the preparations for the wedding continued, Frederick for his part showed himself steadfast in his patience for my sudden excesses, content that I should see fit to tolerate his presence rather than dismiss him outright. Lady Anne, meanwhile, did her best to impose some semblance of restraint.
“You think it well I marry this foreign prince,” I said to her one afternoon, the two of us seated in Henry’s study, where I took myself often at that time of day, content to browse through one item or another I found there. It was a way to keep him close, as though the room harboured yet some semblance of his presence.
“Is that a question?” she looked at me.
“Is that an answer?”
“Forgive my brusqueness,” she offered, “but it could be worse, when you consider those others who might have laid claim to your marriage bed.”
“I suppose you will say next I should count my blessings.”
I had given strict orders that everything at St. James’s be left exactly as it was, and in this my father acquiesced, only because he could not be bothered about it one way or the other, and the same was true for my mother. To judge by their demeanour, Henry might hardly have existed. My father spent almost all of his time at Whitehall, where the wedding would take place, and my mother busied herself at Somerset, and so it was of little concern to them that at St. James’s Palace there remained yet those accoutrements of a son they hardly cared to keep a memory of. I took myself there for the final week before the wedding, glad to have a safe haven from all that swirled about me.
“Shall I go over the names?” said Lady Anne.
“I care not to hear them.”
“I think you should, if only to judge against those other matches that might have befallen.” Lady Anne took a paper out of her pocket. “I have them here.”
“You’ve been keeping a list?”
She began to read: “Frederick Ulric, the Duke of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel . . . Prince Maurice of Nassau . . . Henry Howard, the First Earl of Northampton . . .”
“I think that last has died since,” I interjected, “of old age.”
“Theophilus Howard, Lord of Walden . . .”
“He married Elizabeth Home, didn’t he — the Earl of Dunbar’s daughter? I think it was in March. Your list is out of date.”
“Otto, Hereditary Prince of Hesse, Son of Maurice, Landgrave of Hesse-Kassel . . .”
“His title is long where he is short, so I’ve heard tell.”
“Victor Amadeus, Prince of Piedmont . . .”
“As handsome as the devil and yet still a Catholic.”
“Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden . . .”
“Enough. This reads like a fishmonger’s cry.”
“Not one of these can promise to treat you as well as Prince Frederick.”
“I would rather my life did not rest upon such a promise.”
“You will want for nothing.”
“Save love.”
“But I s
ay to you without hesitation that Prince Frederick loves you.”
“All fine and good, but what of the love that I should feel toward my husband?”
“You may find you grow to love him.”
“A shaky premise upon which to marry.”
“Mark if it shall not come to pass, for he will do his utmost to earn it.”
“As Count Schomberg does to earn yours.”
Lady Anne smiled down into her lap, then back up at me. “I find it pleasant to be in his company, and feel no small affection toward him, but little may come of it.”
“Less if this wedding my father has planned for me should falter.” I inspected her features. “Perhaps you counsel with your own interest in mind.”
“I would give this same advice had I never met the Count.”
“You will come to Heidelberg with me?”
“Of that you may be sure, if you will have me.”
“And the Count, you will have him?”
“In good time may we speak of such, My Lady, but for now this marriage must be the sole purpose of our daily endeavours. There is so much to do!”
“And even more after the vows have been exchanged.”
“How so?”
“For my part I intend to cross the channel with an entourage the like of which has not been seen here or in any other kingdom. I tell you the navy had better prepare an armada. If I must go to live in Bohemia, I intend to see to it that a good portion of England comes with me. Did I tell you, Frederick has promised to build me my own wing at Heidelberg Castle, which I will deign to christen the English Wing? Oh, and when I told Frederick that Henry had started the plans for an English garden at St. James’s he immediately made arrangements that the designer, Salomon de Caus, should accompany us to Heidelberg and incorporate those very plans into a garden there. Hortus Palatinus will be the name, he says, and it shall be the eighth wonder of the world.”
“This tactic you have undertaken, of profligacy, is so unlike you. Is it necessary?”
“Absolutely.”
“Is it wise?”
“You would speak to a sixteen-year-old princess of wisdom?”
“Come,” said Lady Anne, “we are expected in the dressing room to see about another fitting.”
***
As the wedding drew nearer I became ever more mired in a sea of rehearsals, banquets, visitations, and entertainments. My father saw to it that Mr. Shakespeare’s company should perform a number of his plays as a lead-up to the wedding. I was naturally expected to be in attendance, though I hardly paid attention, for the inner workings of my mind were yet abuzz with a dizzying mixture of anger and undiminished grief. I caught only the odd snippet, as on one evening when another production of Hamlet was staged, which gave me to recall that last evening Henry and I spent together. In particular I made sure to secure my father’s attention and stare him down just as the Danish Prince uttered to Horatio, “The funeral baked meats did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.”
Mr. Shakespeare had deigned to play his part in the production but was called away to Stratford when his brother Richard took seriously ill. The rest of the family had already gathered there, that he might spend his last hours in their company. Richard went to his heavenly rest soon after, and Mr. Shakespeare stayed back to make arrangements for the funeral, which brought about yet another example of my father’s reprehensible character. The burial was set to take place on the same day as the royal wedding, which my father took vehement exception to, declaring it to be a bothersome annoyance that the Shakespeare family should see fit to saddle their king with such an inconvenience, and remarked upon it several times in the course of the days leading up to nuptials, complaining loudly that he failed to understand why they would forgo a royal wedding the like of which London had never seen to attend the graveside of a brother who, my father had it on good authority, was an illiterate with no friends.
Frederick and I, thrown together as guests of one ceremony or another, fell into a certain level of acquaintance in which he took pains to be mindful of my state over the course of an evening’s revelry, and having divined that I had reached my limit, would see to it I was given leave to withdraw. In short, he looked after me, and I was grateful for it. He and Lady Anne, along with Count Schomberg, engaged in a kind of benevolent conspiracy to see me through to the end with as little discomfort as possible, made things at least palatable, even as I welcomed every opportunity to show my mother and father how much I despised them. Frederick talked about the construction that was already underway at Heidelberg Castle in accordance with my wishes for an English wing, as well as the plans for the elaborate grounds which would be home to all manner of exotic plants and trees. He would spare no expense, he promised, and had already seen to my request that there should be an entire grove of orange trees, Henry’s favourite fruit.
In the midst of all this, another letter from Arabella Stuart managed to reach me, and in its content I found yet more reason to wonder at the unspoken concern she had wanted to see me about.
January 23, 1613
Dearest Elizabeth,
I was beginning to think I should never hear from you again. It is becoming more and more difficult to get any correspondence through. Your letter means so very much to me, considering that you were here within the walls of the Tower and I did not get to see you! I realize you did everything you could. As it is, they keep moving me around, so that I spend one fortnight in this cell, another in that. I have forgotten the meaning of luxury, and wake more often now into days when I grow weary of living endlessly in hope unfulfilled. I take consolation in the news that your father’s forces have not managed to capture my husband, William, whose whereabouts remain unknown even to me.
Still, what if your father should relent and see fit to pardon me? After all, I have committed no crime. Or what if Lord Seymour should yet find a way to rescue me from this misery? I have not heard from him for some time, but that does not mean he is not trying. And yet I confess there are times of late when I have the most disturbing thought: that William has forsaken me and sought to regain favour with your father by renouncing me. He is still a young man, after all, with his whole future yet ahead of him. No, I will not believe it.
I grow cold and my writing is become unsteady. As it is I am provided with but little paper and less ink. And even at that, to obtain as much requires of me that which I shall not deign to disclose. As for those intrigues I made reference to in my last letter, put the matter to rest. It has all been seen to.
To think you are now to marry to the Elector Palatine of Bohemia and go to live in Heidelberg! Do not say the castle there shall feel like a prison to you, for it promises to afford such comforts as I can only dream of. I live in hope the day may yet come when we shall meet again in liberty and happiness and until such time I remain,
Yours in undying friendship and affection,
Arabella Stuart
I hardly knew what to make of my cousin’s situation, considering that my own was far from ideal, but perhaps it was unfair to make such a comparison. I wondered if she would have traded places with me, or I with her. What if it were I confined now in the Tower? How long should I manage to remain defiant, resolute? Who can claim to be truly free of doubt that none shall be the master of her fate but she alone? Is such a thing possible? Perhaps we all live in captivity, unknowingly shackled to the very thing we fancy ourselves liberated from. Where is true freedom of spirit, of courage, of honour, when we have not dominion over our own weakness? I grant these things became forfeit even as I acquiesced to my father’s wishes, but perhaps they were never mine to begin with. Would my father really have me thrown into prison? For certain it should have been otherwise if my brother Henry were still alive.
***
On the eve of the wedding a massive and violent maritime battle was staged upon the river. An English fleet flying the Red Cross attacked
a Turkish one, accompanied by a cacophony of cannon fire, which succeeded in maiming and seriously injuring a goodly number of participants and bystanders. The spectators took it as yet another example of my father’s utter disregard for the safety and welfare of his subjects, but it aroused a crippling pang of guilt in me, to think I had brought about such needless suffering for the sake of my churlishness. At the end of the battle the Turkish admiral surrendered and was brought up the stairs that led down to the river, where he was made to prostrate himself before the King. It was all ridiculous and childish, and though my father clearly delighted in it, I felt sick to my stomach.
Now a massive display of fireworks shot up from barges along the river, just beyond the walls of the palace. Again and again brilliant plumes of showering sparks shot up into the sky, illuminating various intricate and complex scenes set out on the river, among them a castle surrounded by rock and forest, beyond which strange sea monsters and other creatures swam about in the midst of an artificial ocean. On one island, St. George was depicted slaying the dragon. A spectacular shower of light depicted a pack of hounds chasing a deer across the blackened night sky. I could only imagine what it must have cost. Count Schomberg for one was enthralled, remarking that nothing like it had ever been seen in Heidelberg.
I awoke upon my wedding day to the ringing of church bells, so that from the very moment of its beginning there could be no doubt what the day held in store. This was soon followed by the report of gunfire, which was repeated throughout the day. It also happened to be Valentine’s Day. I was whisked about from one room to another, fussed over and fitted. I insisted that I should wear my hair down, long and flowing to my waist, which only served to make the preparations more taxing, and even at that, one of the attendants began to weave pearls and diamonds into my curls and tresses, which I condemned loudly to be in poor taste and put a stop to. At last the dressing had all been seen to and I was ready for the ceremony. A robe of white and silver, studded with diamonds, was draped around me, and a crown of gold placed upon my head.
