XXVill REPORT. 
bridal bloom, died in the arms of her mother, and left an infant 
daughter, Arabella Stuart, whose picture you will see as a child 
with a doll in her hand. There is no evidence that Lady Shrews- 
bury indulged in any ambitious schemes for this favourite grand- 
child, ‘her dear jewel, Arbell,” as she terms her. On the con- 
trary, she kept her in seclusion at Hardwick, lest the Queen 
should rob her of her treasure. You remember her end. She 
became attached to Sir Wm. Seymour, the second son of Lord 
Beauchamp, and deciding to unite her destiny with his, took the 
dangerous step, and from that moment the dooin of Arabella was 
sealed. She was shortly afterwards imprisoned, and died a maniac 
in the Tower. If I may detain you a few minutes longer, it will 
be to remind you of another person whose history is bound up 
with that of Hardwick—I mean Thomas Hobbes, of Malmesbury, 
the friend of the poet Cowley and the learned Selden. His 
portrait, which you will shortly see, is most characteristic, con- 
veying the idea of a truthful likeness of the great philosopher. 
He became tutor to the Earls of Devonshire when 20 years of 
age, and never afterwards left them. Although the author of 
many books, he was a professed enemy to reading, on which 
subject he was accustomed to say, “that if he had read as much 
as others, he should be as ignorant as they were.” Towards the 
close of his life he was unwilling to be left alone; and his patron, 
the Earl of Devonshire, removing from Chatsworth to Hardwick, 
the old man, though extremely ill at the time, requested he might 
be carried with him. He bore the journey without much incon- 
venience, but in a few days afterwards he lost the use of speech 
and of his right arm, and in December, 1679, he died in his gist 
year, and was buried in the parish church of Hault Hucknall. 
And now, ladies and gentlemen, as you have but little time to 
spare, I will not detain you by any further remarks on the history 
of Hardwick, and the objects of interest connected with it, but 
reserve them until you pass through the house, when every step 
you take will remind you of departed greatness, and forcibly bring 
before you scenes of other days. I shall indeed be glad if, when 
you leave Hardwick, you carry away with you impressions, which, 
