LARGE UPPER CORRIDOR.

209LARGE UPPER CORRIDOR.

No. 98.

THOMAS WENTWORTH, EARL OF STRAFFORD.

After Vandyck.

BORN 1594, EXECUTED 1641.

In armour. Holding a baton.

THE eldest son of Sir William Wentworth, of Wentworth Wodehouse, county York, by Anne Atkinson, of Stowel, county Gloucester. Educated at home, and afterwards at Cambridge, where he gained an excellent reputation for conduct and study. His father dying when Thomas was twenty-one, he found himself at that early age the Master of Wentworth, of large estates and property, the husband ‘of a fair wife,’ (the daughter of Francis Earl of Cumberland,) and the guardian of a flock of young relatives, yet he found time not only for the diligent pursuit of study, but for the relaxations of ‘hunting, hawking, and fishing;’ in fact, for all the varied business and pleasures of a country life.

But he was not long allowed to remain in the privacy of Wentworth, being elected member for York, and Custos Rotulorum. This was in the place of Lord Savile, who had been compelled to resign for misconduct. But Sir Thomas 210had not held the office long before the Duke of Buckingham requested him to retire, that Savile might be reinstated, a proposition which so nettled his high spirit that he couched an indignant refusal in terms that made a lifelong enemy of the haughty favourite.

Sir Thomas was for some time a silent member in the House of Commons, although warmly espousing the Liberal side in politics, and making a vigorous stand against the encroachments of the Court party, a course he pursued after the accession of Charles I. The hatred of Buckingham was not likely to be appeased by such conduct, and through his instrumentality Wentworth had the office of High Sheriff thrust upon him in order to disqualify him from voting, and soon afterwards he was summarily dismissed from the post of Custos Rotulorum. He received the Royal despatch while sitting on the bench of magistrates, and reading it aloud with pardonable indignation, observed, ‘It might easily be believed by what means I could retain my post, but that would cost too dear. Yet I know of no fault in myself, or virtue in my successor, that would justify such a step.’

In the ensuing year he stoutly refused to contribute to a loan levied without the consent of Parliament, and was summoned before the Council, where, while animadverting on the conduct of the ‘Court vermin,’ Wentworth took the opportunity of expressing his devoted loyalty to the person of Charles I., and his desire to serve His Majesty in any manner compatible with his own sense of patriotism. Nevertheless he was sentenced to be imprisoned in the Marshalsea, an act of injustice which did not prejudice him in favour of his persistent enemy the Duke of Buckingham and his party.

On his release Wentworth became a vigorous leader of the opposition, ‘and took the field,’ as it was said, ‘with the Pyms and the Prynnes’ against the King’s Government, supporting with all the eloquence of which he was master, the 211memorable Petition of Rights to which the King was compelled to give a tardy, but full consent. Then Sir Thomas Wentworth adopted that sudden line of conduct, which has been so differently judged, so differently described, by different historians. He declared his conviction that the nation might now be well content with the concessions made by the Crown, bade adieu ‘to the Pyms, the Prynnes,’ and their policy, walked over to the other side of the House, went through the form of a reconciliation with the Duke of Buckingham, and proffered his services, head, heart, and sword, to the Royal cause. The opposition (above all the ‘Puritan party’) was worked to a pitch of fury, and heaped opprobrium on his name,—‘an apostate, a traitor, a time-server;’ while the Royalists upheld the conduct of a man who chose the moment of impending danger to rally round the unsteady throne and the unpopular Sovereign.

Charles naturally received him with open arms, and the honours which were heaped upon him increased the ire of his enemies. His former ally, Pym, meeting him one day at Greenwich, uttered these ominous words: ‘You are going to leave us, but I will never leave you while you have a head upon your shoulders,’ a promise too cruelly redeemed. The murder of the Duke of Buckingham removed every obstacle to the advancement of Sir Thomas Wentworth; he was raised to the Peerage by the titles of Baron and Viscount Wentworth, and being appointed to the arduous post of Lord Deputy, and Commander-in-chief in Ireland, he sailed for that ‘distracted country’ with a code he had drawn up for his own government in his pocket, from which he never swerved.

Lord Wentworth’s administration of Irish affairs, his transient popularity, his reforms in all matters, civil, military, and religious, his quarrels with the Irish nobles, punctilio in matters of form and etiquette, his hurried voyages to and from England, are all subjects of deep interest, but too lengthy to 212be discussed here. It would have been well for him if he had taken the advice of his life-long friend and correspondent, Archbishop Laud, and ‘curbed his impetuosity, and avoided prosecutions, and the like.’

The correspondence between these two remarkable men, (whose friendship, in the spirit of their joint motto and watchword, was ‘Thorough’,) although treating, for the most part, of grave and important subjects, was interspersed (more especially on the Prelate’s part) with playful raillery and constant allusions to the sports of the field, in which they both delighted. The Lord Deputy had gained great odium in consequence of a severe sentence passed by him, in a court-martial, upon an Irish Peer, as failing in his duty as an officer, and the cry was so great against him that Wentworth judged it best to go and tell his own tale to the King of England.

On his return to his government a harder task than ever awaited him. Finding that the disaffection of the Scotch to the Crown had produced a baneful influence on the sister country, he set himself to work to counteract that influence, and his prompt and vigorous measures made him (already too well provided with enemies) an object of detestation to the greater part of the Scottish nation. In 1639 he again crossed to England, where he received the long-coveted Earldom of Strafford, was nominated Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, taken into the King’s full confidence, and became for a time virtually Prime Minister. War with Scotland, Parliaments summoned in England and Ireland, and subsidies demanded,—these were some of Strafford’s proposed measures. From his own privy purse he contributed (as an example) £20,000 towards defraying the expenses of the coming campaign.

To make use of a homely proverb, ‘The grass was never allowed to grow under’ Strafford’s feet. He crossed to Ireland, called a Parliament, obtained large subsidies, summoned a council of war, raised a large body of men to serve 213under his command in Scotland. Then he took a painful farewell of his beloved children,—‘those dear young whelps, God bless them! for the old dog there is less matter,’ and all this in the space of one fortnight.

Borne down as he was by continued ill-health and increasing bodily infirmities, Lord Strafford was so anxious to return to England that he insisted on crossing in a storm which daunted the sailors, and he had nearly died at Chester; yet, in spite of all expostulations, he resolved to proceed to London, and caused himself on his arrival to be carried into the Council-chamber in a litter, to all appearance in an expiring condition.

But too much remained for him to do, and the spirit was victorious over the body. On the dissolution of Parliament, Strafford accepted a military command, (against the Scots,) under the ostensible command of the Earl of Northumberland, who, however, was either too sick, or feigned to be so, to prove efficient, and the real duties fell to Strafford’s share. He came up with the King at York, and found the army in a sad plight—‘hope and spirit fled, and the Royal cause in the dust.’

Unable to walk, scarcely able to sit upright on his saddle, his energy was indomitable. He rallied the troops, upbraided the sluggishness of the leaders, and set a brilliant example to the whole army. But the King stayed his hand, and thwarted the vigorous tactics of his General, the command was in fact taken from him, although Charles was eager in his praises, and gave Strafford the Garter at York. He, moreover, insisted that they should travel together to London—two victims hastening to their doom.

Strafford was averse to the plan, foreseeing the danger which menaced him at the opening of Parliament, and his presentiment was realised, for a few days after the commencement of the session Pym began his long-meditated attack.

The bloodhounds were on the track, the hunt was up!

214Lord Strafford was in the House of Lords, when Pym appeared at the bar to impeach him of high treason. He was allowed but a short time to say a few words, and was compelled to listen to the charge on his knees, then given into custody, and lodged in the Tower.

We deeply regret the limited space which forbids us to do more than glance at the circumstances of Strafford’s trial and defence, though in truth it is a well-known tale.

A Scotchman, and an enemy, gives a most graphic description of the noble scene which Westminster Hall presented on the occasion, crowded to the roof—the King, the Queen, the whole Court and nobility of England, ladies of the highest rank, whose tears flowed copiously, and who were unanimous in their verdict in favour of the illustrious prisoner.

It was well said by the elder D’Israeli, ‘that Strafford’s eloquence was so great as to perpetuate the sympathy which it received in the hour of his agony.’ He had, indeed, need of eloquence. Every obstacle was thrown in his way, especially in the matter of summoning witnesses in his favour, while his personal enemies were invited from all parts of England, Scotland, and Ireland. His confidence was betrayed, his words perverted; the proceedings were unlawful and unprecedented; but the Solicitor-General overruled such arguments by declaring that for ‘wolves and wild beasts of prey’ no law could be given, and that the prisoner ought to be knocked on the head.

Whereupon with difficulty a bill of attainder was provided, and some members who gave negative votes had their names posted up in the city as ‘Straffordians.’ The two Houses had passages of arms on the subject; but the vultures were hovering round, and would not be disappointed of their prey. Thus Thomas Earl of Strafford was declared guilty of high treason.

We will not dwell on the sad passage in Charles’s sad life. 215He had pledged his royal word, ‘You shall not suffer in honour, in fortune, or in life.’ Feeble attempts at intercession with the dreaded power of the Parliament, hesitation and delay, and then he signed the death-warrant of his devoted friend, weeping as he did so—yet he signed, laying up for himself hours of deep remorse, during the few years that he survived. The generous captive indeed wrote to his master to absolve him from his promise, but when he learned that he must prepare for death, he raised his eyes to heaven, exclaiming, ‘Put not your trust in princes, or in any child of men.’

During the short interval between the sentence and the execution, the prisoner, ‘resigned and at home with his own fate, experienced in full all that inward strength which had grown up with the unconscious religion of a noble life.’^[1]

He busied himself with his religious duties, with the settlement of his worldly affairs, and in writing wise, tender, and pathetic letters to his relatives, particularly to his eldest son. He petitioned to be allowed an interview with his well-loved friend and fellow-prisoner, Archbishop Laud, but was cruelly refused, and only permitted to send him a message, asking his prayers, and entreating that he would wave him a blessing as he passed to execution.

Accordingly on the 12th of May 1641, Strafford, on his way to the scaffold, raised his eyes to the window of the cell where Laud was confined, and perceived the Prelate’s aged and trembling hands extended through the bars, in token of a solemn farewell.

So overcome was Laud by grief and emotion, that he fell backwards on the floor of his dungeon in a swoon.

The avenues to the Tower were lined with thousands of eager spectators, and the lieutenant hurried his prisoner into the carriage lest he should be torn in pieces. Strafford smiled, and said ‘it mattered little to him whether he died by the 216hands of the executioner or by those of the people.’ He had ‘faced death too often to fear it in any shape.’

The mob glared on him as he passed, but offered him no indignity, for he marched, says a spectator, ‘like a general at the head of his army, bowing with lofty courtesy to the gazing crowd.’ His friend Archbishop Usher and his brother Sir George Wentworth were already on the platform when he came, as he said, ‘to pay his last debt to sin, which was death.’ He submitted to the judgment with a contented mind. He affirmed that his whole aim through life had been the joint and individual prosperity of the King, and the people, although it had been his misfortune to be misconstrued: ‘righteous judgment,’ he said, ‘shall be hereafter.’

He stoutly denied the charges of upholding despotism and Popery, asked forgiveness of all men whom he had offended, and prayed that ‘we may all live to meet eternally in heaven, where all tears shall be wiped from our eyes, and sad thoughts from our hearts.’ Then he prayed for some time, concluding with the Lord’s Prayer; bade farewell to those near him, and embracing his brother, delivered the most pathetic messages to different members of his family, to his sister, his wife, with admonitions to his eldest son ‘to fear God, be a good subject to the King, and faithful to the Church of England,’ etc. etc.; forbidding him to harbour any feelings of revenge. ‘Give my blessings also to my daughters, Anne, (‘the sweet little Mistress Nan, his loved companion, the image of her dead mother,’) to Arabella, named after the dear saint, to the little infant who cannot speak for itself—God speak for it. One stroke,’ he said, ‘will make my wife husbandless, my children fatherless, my servants masterless, and separate me from my dear brother and all my friends. But let God be to you, and to them, all in all.’ About to take off his doublet, he thanked God he could do so as cheerfully as ever he did when going to bed. And then he looked 217round and forgave the executioner and all the world. It was indeed an imposing scene: Strafford apparently restored on that momentous day to all the energy of health and vigour; his tall and symmetrical figure, his regular features, with a complexion ‘pallid, but manly, black, like polished armour that had received many a hack and bruise in the battle of life.’

Once more he knelt in prayer, between the Archbishop of Armagh and the minister, tried the block, and finally having warned the executioner that such would be the sign, he stretched forth his white and beautifully formed hands, those hands which Vandyck has immortalised, which Henrietta Maria, his sworn enemy, had pronounced ‘the finest in the world,’ and one stroke from the cruel axe ended the mortal career of Thomas Earl of Strafford. Yet his name still continues a firebrand, between contending parties, in religion and politics. His faithful and devoted friend, Sir George Radcliffe, pays a most touching tribute to his memory in a well-sketched mental portraiture, and among many noble traits he mentions ‘that my Lord was not angry when told of his weaknesses, though let it be remembered that by nature he was of a hot and hasty spirit, for he was a man and not an angel, yet such a man as made conscience of his ways, and did endeavour to grow in virtue and victory over himself.’

He was thrice married, first, as we have already said, to Lady Margaret Clifford, who died childless; next to the Lady Arabella Holles, daughter to the Earl of Clare, by whom he had one son, his successor; Anne, married to Lord Rockingham, and Arabella, married to the son of my Lord Clancarty.

Of Lord Strafford’s second and best loved wife, Radcliffe writes: ‘She was a lady exceeding comely and beautiful, and yet more lovely in the endowments of her mind.’

There was a mystery attending his third marriage, (which was clandestine,) with Elizabeth, daughter to Sir Godfrey Rhodes. They parted almost immediately after the ceremony, 218and he was some time before he would acknowledge her openly. Their correspondence was singular, in one letter he promises to be a good husband; in another, he reminds her that she is the successor of two of the noblest ladies of the time. Laud, in writing his congratulations, is rather jocose on the subject, but it does not quite appear whether the doubt existed as to the lady’s character, or to the fitness of her birth and breeding. Her husband’s letters to her during his trial are couched in affectionate terms. She bore him several children, one of whom alone survived him.

Of his connection with that beautiful schemer, Lady Carlisle, the ‘Erinnys of politics’ (born Percy), there can be no doubt, and the undue influence she exercised over him,—she who (says Sir Philip Warwick) changed her gallant from Strafford to Pym, going over to his deadly enemy.

But there were many other names coupled with his, apparently without any reason, save the love of slander.

No. 99.

CHARLES THE FIRST, KING OF ENGLAND.

After Vandyck.

BORN 1600, SUCCEEDED 1625, EXECUTED 1649.

Robes, Collar and Order of the Garter.

THE second son of James the First by Anne of Denmark. Married Henrietta Maria of France. Dethroned and beheaded by his subjects.

219

No. 100.

THREE CHILDREN OF CHARLES THE FIRST.

After Vandyck.

CHARLES, PRINCE OF WALES, AFTERWARDS KING.

Light dress. Lace collar.

JAMES DUKE OF YORK, AFTERWARDS KING.

White frock. Lace cap.

PRINCESS ROYAL, WIFE TO THE PRINCE OF ORANGE,

AND MOTHER TO WILLIAM THE THIRD.

Two dogs beside the children.

No. 101.

HENRIETTA MARIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND.

After Vandyck.

BORN 1607, DIED 1669.

Blue dress, with flowers in her lap.

DAUGHTER of Henry IV., King of France, by Marie de Medicis, and wife of Charles the First, King of England.

220

No. 102.

WILLIAM, SECOND DUKE OF HAMILTON.

After Vandyck.

BORN 1616, DIED 1651.

Mantle, Ribbon, and Star of Garter.

SECOND son of James, second Marquis of Hamilton, by Anne, daughter of James Conyngham, seventh Earl of Glencairn. Educated at the University of Glasgow, and afterwards travelled in foreign countries. His brother, who was ten years his senior, was the friend and companion of King Charles I., who raised him to a Dukedom. William, in returning home after his tour, reckoned on his brother’s influence for promotion at Court, and applied for the post of Master of the Horse to the Queen. The refusal he met with, although founded on the plea of a previous promise to another, so angered young Hamilton that he announced his intention of going back to France, and it was with difficulty he was dissuaded from so doing by prospects of speedy advancement. He had not long to wait. In 1639 he was created Baron Polmont and Machanshire, and Earl of Arran and Lanark, and the following year Secretary of State for Scotland, honours which must surely have satisfied this ardent and ambitious spirit, although Scotland was at that moment in such a state of fermentation that the direction of her affairs was far too arduous for a young man totally unacquainted with public business. Lord Lanark therefore looked to his brother as a man of ability and experience for advice and guidance. The mother of the two Hamiltons, a determined and energetic 221woman, had early instilled into the mind of her first-born the religious tenets in which she had been educated by her father, a staunch Covenanter; and the elder had no difficulty in imparting his views to the younger brother, and the two young men conceived, says Lodge, ‘the impracticable scheme of uniting and reconciling the actual monarchy with a Calvinistic Church.’

For two years Lord Lanark strove, on the one hand, to persuade the King to make all manner of humiliating concessions to the Covenanters, while on the other he used fruitless endeavours to stem the tide of the rebellious outbreak; and naturally he was unsuccessful in both instances. Charles’s partiality for the house of Hamilton was no help to him in his troubles north of the Tweed. In 1642, the Scotch having called a Parliament without the royal sanction, the King wrote,—‘If, notwithstanding our refusal, and the endeavours of our well affected subjects and servants to hinder it, there shall be a Convention of the Estates, we wish all those who are right affected to us should be present at it, but do nothing but only protest against their meeting and actions.’ The Hamiltons accordingly took their seats, but were silent members on most occasions. Their conduct in several instances was most inconsistent, and when the Scotch Parliament, following the example of their English brethren, levied troops in the King’s name to make war on Charles himself, Lanark actually affixed the royal signet to the proclamation for the levy!

Such behaviour naturally incensed all true-hearted Royalists, and the Duke of Montrose especially was so disgusted that he hastened to Oxford, where the Court then was, to denounce the brothers. They on their part, discovering his intention, thought it wisest to follow him, but were arrested and imprisoned on their arrival. Lanark soon found means to escape to London, and afterwards to Scotland, where he recommenced his temporising policy, professing all the while deep attachment to the King, 222which did not prevent his joining the Covenanters against the Duke of Montrose. So contradictory a proceeding led to the rumour that he acted in obedience to secret orders from the King himself, who soon afterwards received him back into favour, and reinstated him in the Secretaryship of which he had been deprived. Charles’s conduct with regard to the Duke was inexplicable, for when that nobleman, who had been for some time a prisoner in Pendennis Castle, Cornwall, (whence he was released by the chances of war,) joined the King at Newcastle, he was received without the slightest signs of anger. Neither did Charles resent the manner in which Lanark endeavoured to enforce the bitter terms proposed by the Scottish Parliament, although he resolutely refused to submit to such conditions. This was in 1646, when the idea was entertained of delivering up the person of the King to the English Commissioner. Lanark, however, was roused on this occasion, and exclaimed indignantly, ‘As God shall have mercy on my soul at the great day, I would choose rather to have my head struck off at the Market Cross of Edinburgh than give my consent to this vote.’ He was now in constant attendance on the King, who treated him with great confidence. The Duke of Hamilton placed himself at the head of an army of Scottish Royalists, and made an irruption into England, but was defeated by Cromwell’s forces and taken prisoner. His trial and execution followed shortly after that of the King himself; and about the same time, Lanark, being deprived of his public offices and proscribed by the Government, fled to Holland.

It was not, indeed, till his arrival in that country, Clarendon says, ‘that he knew he was Duke Hamilton by the slaughter of his brother;’ Charles II. received the new Duke with affection and sympathy. Lanark had loved his brother with a blind affection, which led to his following him on many occasions against his own views.

223He said his condition had been very hard, for having been bred up in the Church of England, for which he had a great reverence, he had been forced to comply with the Covenant, which he perfectly detested. Charles gave him the Garter, and took him in his suite to Scotland, where, not being permitted to enter the capital, he retired to the isle of Arran, whence he was recalled by the King’s orders.

At the commencement of the ensuing year he raised a body of men for His Majesty’s service, and distinguished himself at their head against the English Roundheads in Scotland, and was appointed Lieutenant-General of the Scotch army under orders to cross the Border. Hamilton’s inclination was to march on London, but his wishes were overruled by the King. Cromwell came up with the Royalist troops, and gave them battle at Worcester—a sad day for England’s nobles, when so many fell. Bishop Burnet tells us how devoutly and piously the Duke passed the vigil of his last battle. Stationed at his post at an early hour, he saw with dismay (shortly after the commencement of the action) his own regiment in retreat, and rashly galloped forward to rally the fugitives. A shot in the leg shattered the bone, and the brave General fell into the hands of his enemies. But the wound (though it proved mortal) saved him from the fate that had attended his brother. He only survived eight days, the surgeons quarrelling all the time over the question of amputation. There is a tradition in Worcester that the body of the Duke was buried provisionally, under the hearthstone, in the room of a hospital, (now a Blind School,) called the Commandery, before it was transferred to the Cathedral. Lord Clarendon says of Duke William: ‘He was much to be preferred to his brother, a wiser, but less cunning man, an accomplished person; and though he had been led into some unwarrantable actions, it was evident it was not through his own inclination. In his death he showed a great cheerfulness, 224that he had the honour to die for the King, and thereby wipe out the memory of his former transgressions, which was odious to himself.’ Burnet says from a child he could never on any temptation be made to lie.

His faults seem to have been greatly owing to a blind adherence to the proceedings and opinions of his brother. The Bishop describes William Duke of Hamilton ‘as of middle stature, complexion black, but very agreeable, and his whole mien noble and sprightful.’ He married in 1638 Lady Elizabeth Maxwell, eldest daughter and co-heir of James Earl of Dirleton, in Scotland, and by her had one son who died an infant, and five daughters.

No. 103.

MARTIN LUTHER.

BORN 1483, DIED 1546.

Black gown and cap.

THE biography of ‘the day-star of the Reformation’ belongs to the history of the world, and we have no space for a notice of the principal events of his life. He was the son of a miner, originally intended for the study of civil law, but being struck by lightning, his mind took a strong religious turn, and he eventually became a priest. It is well known how his indignation was aroused by the sale of indulgences, and other abuses of the Church of Rome, and with what indomitable courage and energy he upheld and promulgated his opinions, enduring persecution, danger, and imprisonment for conscience’ sake. He married Catherine von Bora, who had been a nun, a step which gave great offence in many quarters.

He is one of those men whose name is a history in itself.

225

No. 104.

CHARLES PRINCE OF WALES, AFTERWARDS

KING CHARLES THE FIRST.

After Vandyck.

Full length. In armour. Red and gold trunks. Riding boots, one top

turned down to show the Garter. Helmet on the ground.

No. 105.

HENRY THE FOURTH, KING OF NAVARRE, AND

OF FRANCE.

BORN 1553, MURDERED 1610.

Full length. In armour, with a white scarf, blue ribbon, and Order.

Boots and spurs. Helmet on the ground.

HE was the son of Anthony de Bourbon and Jeanne d’Albret, Queen of Navarre. Brought up by his mother in the strictest principles of the Protestant faith, whose champion he became, defending it by speech and sword. He was heir to the throne of France, as well as Navarre, in right of descent from Louis IX., called St. Louis. On the death of Henry III. he succeeded him as King, and it was then he embraced the Roman Catholic faith, although he watched over the interests of his former friends as far as was consistent with the policy of his government.

The Edict of Nantes in 1595 was most advantageous to the Huguenots. Henry was for some time involved in foreign warfare, but peace was at length established. Though 226having at heart the improvement and the well-being of his subjects of all conditions, yet parties ran so high that his life was constantly attempted. It was reserved for the hand of a fanatic, one Ravaillac, (a monk, whose ill conduct had caused him to be expelled from his convent,) to terminate the valuable life of this great and noble Prince. He was twice married, first to Margaret de Valois, sister to Charles IX., the King and Queen-Mother having elected to make the terrible massacre of St. Bartholomew one of the features of rejoicing for these ill-starred nuptials. From her he was divorced, and married as his second wife Marie de Medicis.

No. 106.

EDWARD STAFFORD, DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM.

After Holbein.

EXECUTED 1521.

Brown vest, blue sleeves. Red mantle with fur. Black cap, and jewel.

HIS father, Henry Duke of Buckingham, was executed in the reign of Richard III., but the titles and estates were restored to his son. Edward accompanied Henry VIII. to France when he went to meet the French King. He was a great favourite with his Sovereign, which caused him to be an object of jealousy at Court, and his downfall was planned by influential foes, amongst whom Wolsey was accounted the chief. Buckingham was the last to occupy the post of Lord High Constable of England, an office of great power and emolument. Accused of high treason, his enemies went so far as to say he aspired to the Crown, it having been prophesied by one 227Hopkins, a monk, that King Henry would die without male issue. The Duke was found guilty on very insufficient evidence, and beheaded on Tower Hill. His name and memory are endeared to us, through the inspired pages of Shakespeare—the eloquent description of his character given by the King himself, even while he promised him no mercy, and the appeal of Queen Katherine, pathetic, but unavailing, ‘that the Lord Cardinal should deliver all his evidence in charity.’

No. 107.

HENEAGE FINCH, EARL OF NOTTINGHAM.

By Sir Peter Lely.

BORN 1621, DIED 1682.

Robes and badges of office.

SIR Thomas Finch, Privy Councillor to Queen Elizabeth, holding many lucrative offices under the Crown, had an only daughter, Elizabeth, by his wife, the daughter of Sir Nicholas Poyntz, of Acton Poyntz, county Gloucester. Sir Thomas left his heiress a very large fortune, and she married Sir Moyle Finch, and was the grandmother of the first Earl of Nottingham of that name. Sir Moyle died in 1614, and his widow was created Viscountess Maidstone in 1623, and in 1628 further advanced to the grade of Countess of Winchilsea. Her fourth son, Heneage, was a celebrated lawyer, Speaker of the House of Commons, and the friend of Bacon. He married the daughter of Sir Edmond Bell of Beaupré, county Suffolk, and their eldest child was the subject of this memoir.

He was born at his father’s beautiful estate of Eastwell in 228Kent, but passed most of his youth at Kensington, which property, it may here be observed, was purchased by William III. of Finch’s grandson, and has remained in possession of the Crown ever since.

Heneage received a good education at Westminster and Oxford, and went to Christ Church in 1645, where he was steady and studious; but the sudden death of his father, from whom he inherited a large fortune, called him away from the University before he had taken his degree. Rich as he was, it did not suit the young man’s taste to remain without a profession; and he began to study law in the Inner Temple, where he soon gained a name for fluency of speech and readiness of reply, and was called to the bar before the usual time in consideration of his proficiency.

During the Protectorate Finch contented himself with an extensive private practice, and having married Elizabeth Harvey, daughter of a London merchant, lived a happy domestic life with his ‘pretty and dearly-loved wife.’ He came of too loyal a family, and shared their opinions too truly, to be popular with the powers that then were, or to seek their favour.

His kinsman, Sir John Finch, (Speaker of the House of Commons,) had made himself so obnoxious to the Government that he had found it advisable to fly the country, while another cousin was in actual attendance on the King’s person.

At the time of the Restoration, Heneage Finch contrived to ingratiate himself with His Majesty by getting up a memorial, signed by the principal inhabitants of his county, to show forth that none of ‘the men of Kent’ had had any participation in the ‘murder of Charles the Martyr.’ At all events, it was not long after his Restoration that the King summoned him from his retreat, named him Solicitor-General, and gave him a Baronetcy. In return for these honours perhaps it might have been that Sir Heneage pursued the 229prosecution of the regicides with great violence, and would willingly have brought John Milton to condign punishment on account of his political tendencies.

He served in several Parliaments for Canterbury, Oxford, etc., but never gave up his profession, and as a true Templar he acquired great ‘kudos’ (in 1601) by an eloquent course of lectures, which he delivered, in his capacity of Reader, at the Temple. Surely that time-honoured pile had never witnessed such a brilliant concourse as flocked to listen to the law and learning of the future Lord Chancellor. All the dignitaries of London, in the robes of their respective callings, municipal, clerical, commercial, legal, and the last day of the course many Peers of the realm, members of the royal household, in barges of State, attended by servants in scarlet and white doublets, the King’s own Majesty, accompanied by the Duke of York, Prince Rupert, and numerous grandees. This was but the shadow of coming honours.

Sir Heneage continued in Parliament for some time, now gaining, now losing, popularity with his constituents, for voting as he thought fit on important measures.

In 1670 he became Attorney-General on the death of Sir Jeffrey Palmer, having exercised the duties of the office for some time past. His ambition, however, suffered a temporary disappointment, when, on the removal of Sir Orlando Bridgeman, he saw his rival, Lord Shaftesbury, elevated to the Woolsack in his despite.

But he had not long to wait for his enemy’s downfall. At the end of 1673 the Great Seal of England was consigned to him, and the beginning of the next year saw him Lord Keeper, with the title of Baron Finch of Daventry, in the county of Northampton, and other dignities.

In 1677 he sat as Lord High Steward of England on the trial of Philip Earl of Pembroke, and in 1680 on that of William Howard, Viscount Stafford, where his speech, in which 230he passed sentence on that unfortunate nobleman, (accused of plotting against the King,) was pronounced a model of eloquence, but scarcely of justice. Burnet, who found great fault with him in many ways, testifies to his probity, yet other writers insinuate that he consulted the royal wishes on many points of law, at least before he had attained to the heights of his ambition.

Be that as it may, he was very firm on all matters where the interests of the Reformed Church were concerned. In his latter days Lord Finch became so great a sufferer from gout that he was for some time incapacitated from attending his duties in public, and he did not long survive the last mark of royal favour, dying within a year after the Earldom of Nottingham had been conferred on him.

This great lawyer, who has been called ‘the Father of Equity,’ and ‘Finch the Silver Tongue,’ died at his house in Queen Street, Covent Garden, and was buried at Ravenstone, near Olney, county Bucks, where a grand monument assigns him every virtue under the sun. He had fourteen children, of whom the eldest son was the ancestor of the present Earl of Winchilsea and Nottingham, and the second of the Earl of Aylesford.

Lord Nottingham was a liberal patron of literary men, and encouraged rising talent. As Bishop Warburton quaintly expresses it, (in a letter to Lady Mansfield, Nottingham’s granddaughter, and wife of the celebrated Judge,) ‘He was elegantly ambitious to give the last polish to his country by patronage of learning and science.’

In the distribution of Church preferment he was very conscientious, and often said, ‘God knows, I would not willingly appoint one unworthy.’ He was by no means of a grasping disposition, and having a good private fortune, gave up of his own accord £4000 a year, which was allowed him in his official capacity for the expenses of the table.

231In ‘Absalom and Achitophel,’ Dryden contrasts him, (by the name of Amri,) in most complimentary terms, with Lord Shaftesbury.

Alluding to the English laws, the poet says he had fathomed them all:—

‘No Rabbin speaks like him, their magic spell,

So just, and with such charms of eloquence;

To whom the double blessing does belong,

With Moses’ inspiration, Aaron’s tongue.’

Worth says, that ‘the business, rather than the justice of the Court, flourished exceedingly under Finch.’ Another opinion has it that ‘he was a formalist, and took much pleasure in encouraging and listening to nice distinctions of law, instead of taking a broad view of the equity of each case.’ So do historians differ. It was said he had such fear of thieves stealing his wand of office, that he used to sleep with the mace under his pillow.

No. 108.

GEORGE MONCK, DUKE OF ALBEMARLE.

By Sir Peter Lely.

BORN 1608, DIED 1670.

Gold armour. Mantle, collar, and badge of Garter. Left arm akimbo.

Right hand holding a truncheon.

A NATIVE of Devonshire. When a youth of seventeen he became involved in some local quarrel, where, says the Biographie Universelle, ‘par excès d’amour filial, il maltraita le sous-Sheriff d’Exeter.’ He was sent to sea, and served at one time under the Duke of Buckingham. In 1629 he entered an English regiment in Holland, where he studied the art of war with great diligence, 232and was remarkable for his steadiness of conduct, and the discipline he maintained among the soldiers, treating them at the same time with uniform kindness. In 1639 he returned to England; and in Charles I.’s disastrous expedition to Scotland, Monck displayed great skill in command of the artillery, though productive of no good results. He then went to Ireland on promotion, where he did considerable service, and was made Governor of Dublin; but the Parliament intervening, he was suspended from the office; and on the conclusion of a treaty (by the King’s command) with the Irish rebels, he once more returned to England.

On his arrival he found that doubts of his fidelity had been implanted in Charles’s mind, but on joining him at Oxford, he completely cleared himself, was promoted, and ordered to relieve Sandwich, where he was taken prisoner by the Roundheads and sent to the Tower. During the two years of his captivity Monck steadily refused all overtures made to him by the Protector, and occupied his leisure hours in making notes on military and political subjects. Cromwell entertained a high opinion of his soldier-like qualities, and offered him the alternative of prolonged imprisonment or a command to put down the Irish rebels under O’Neill. Monck accepted the latter, but was ill supported by the Government at home, so much so that he was reluctantly compelled to sign a truce with the insurgents. For this he was called to account on his return to England, but he was too useful that Cromwell should afford to quarrel with him again; and so he was despatched to Scotland, where he did much service. The Protector at the time was well aware of the General’s loyal proclivities, and wrote to him shortly before his death: ‘There be those that tell me there is a certain cunning fellow in Scotland called General Monck, who is said to lie in wait there to introduce Charles Stuart. I pray you to use your diligence to apprehend him and send him up to me.’

233The share which Monck took in the Restoration is too well known to be repeated here. Charles called him his father, gave him the Garter, created him Baron Monck, Earl of Torrington, and Duke of Albemarle, and appointed him Lieutenant-General of the forces of the United Kingdom, with a large income.

In 1653 he married or acknowledged his marriage with Anne, daughter of John Clarges, who had long resided under his roof,—‘a lady,’ says Guizot, ‘whose manners were more vulgar and less simple than those of her husband, and who was the laughing-stock of a witty and satirical Court.’

The French historian speaks disparagingly of the great General, but in the time of the plague, when the King and Ministers left London, the Duke remained to watch over the necessities of the wretched inhabitants, to save families from pillage, and to alleviate the sufferings of the poor. He was afloat when the fire occurred, and the general cry was: ‘Ah, if old George had been here, this would not have happened.’

He died in his sixty-second year, leaving an enormous fortune to his spendthrift son Christopher, and was buried in Westminster Abbey with great splendour, Charles II. attending the funeral. Guizot says: ‘C’etoit un homme capable de grandes choses, quoiqu’il n’eut pas de grandeur dans l’âme.’ His jealousy of his noble comrade Lord Sandwich seems to bear out the French historian’s opinion in some measure. In his last illness he was much occupied in the arrangement of the alliance of his surviving son Christopher (the death of the elder had been a terrible blow to him) with the heiress of the wealthy Duke of Newcastle. His death was peaceful: he expired in his arm-chair without a groan.

234

No. 109.

HENRY BENNET, EARL OF ARLINGTON.

By Sir Peter Lely.

BORN 1618, DIED 1685.

Black dress, white sleeves. Sitting holding a letter. Black patch

on his nose.

THE family was settled in Berkshire, when towards the close of the sixteenth century two brothers Bennet went to London and respectively made their fortunes by successful commercial undertakings. From the elder descended a certain Sir John Bennet, living at Dawley, county Middlesex, who married Dorothy, daughter of Sir John Crofts of Saxham, county Norfolk. The subject of this notice was their second son. He was carefully educated under the paternal roof, but went to Oxford, and was entered a student at Christ Church, where he took his degree as B.A. and M.A., and was much esteemed both as scholar and poet. He remained some time at the University, where he was still a resident when the Court arrived in 1644.

He was presented to King Charles, and soon after entered the army as a volunteer. Lord Digby, then Secretary of State, took a fancy to young Bennet, and appointed him Under-Secretary. But this post did not interfere with his military duties, he was ever in the field ‘when honour called,’ and was so severely wounded at Andover, in an engagement near that town, as to be invalided for a long time. He was indeed dangerously ill, and there is little doubt 235that it was in one of these encounters, that he received the scar by which he is so well known in all his portraits.

Deeply attached to the Royalist cause, on the termination of the war Bennet went to France, and on into Germany and Italy, never losing sight of the hope of once more joining and serving the house of Stuart. In 1649 he was summoned to Paris by James Duke of York, to fill the post of private secretary.

King Charles, writing to his brother, says: ‘You must be very kind to Harry Bennet, and communicate freely with him, for as you are sure that he is full of duty and integrity to you, so I must tell you that I shall trust him more than any about you, and cause him to be instructed in those businesses of mine, when I cannot write to you myself.’

Charles’s letters to Bennet also plainly show the terms of intimacy and trust which existed between them.

This was especially remarkable as regarded the affairs of Spain; and in 1658, Sir Henry Bennet, Knight, was sent as Ambassador to Madrid. Clarendon says the step was at the instigation of Lord Bristol, but at this time there was strife between the new Ambassador and his former patron. Henry Bennet, with all the zeal that usually characterises a recent convert to Catholicism, was very anxious that his royal master should make his profession to the same faith, whereas Digby, or rather the Earl of Bristol, (as he had become,) though himself a Roman Catholic, considered that such a step would be ruinous to Charles’s interests, and opposed it stoutly. Great bitterness in consequence existed between Bristol and Bennet, increased by the jealousy excited in the mind of the former with regard to Bennet’s mission, being under the impression that he himself was far better fitted for the post.

Sir Henry, however, seems to have pleased most parties in his diplomatic capacity; and at the Restoration he was sent for by the King, who gave him the office of Privy Purse, 236and made him his constant companion. Bennet was well calculated to suit the taste of the Merry Monarch. Burnet tells us he had the art of observing the King’s humour, and managing it, beyond all the men of his time; and Clarendon gives us a clew to one of the reasons, when he mentions that ‘Bennet filled a principal place, to all intents and purposes, at the nightly meetings,’ (alluding to the King’s jovial suppers in Lady Castlemaine’s apartments,) added to which, he was most lively and sparkling in conversation.

In 1662 Charles bribed Sir Edward Nicholas to resign his Secretaryship of State, (and that with a considerable sum,) that he might bestow the vacant post on his favourite. The contrast between Bennet’s entire submission to the Royal will and the honest rectitude of the Chancellor (Clarendon) increased the King’s dislike to that worthy servant of the Crown, on whose downfall Bennet rose still higher.

In 1663 he was raised to the Peerage as Lord Arlington, whereupon Clarendon threw some ridicule on the choice of the title, taken from an obscure village in Middlesex, which had once belonged to Bennet’s father, but was now in the possession of another family.

While at the head of public affairs, no measures of any importance were undertaken, with the exception of the first Dutch war.

In 1670 was formed the famous Cabal Ministry (spoken of more fully in our notice of Lord Shaftesbury) which Arlington consented to join, and of which his title formed one of the initials.

So notoriously now did he consult the King’s wishes rather than the public good, that he was rewarded in 1672 by the dignity of Baron Thetford and Earl of Arlington, and later invested with the Garter. Being sent on an embassy to Utrecht, in company with the Duke of Buckingham and Lord Halifax, (which was productive of no good results,) he afterwards 237turned his attention to the overthrow of the Cabal, in the breaking up of which he was most instrumental. He however fell into great disrepute with both Catholics and Protestants about this time, the Duke of York (on the passing of the Test Act) loading him with every kind of abuse, while the opposite side charged him with endeavouring to introduce Popery.

The Duke of Buckingham was loud in censure of Lord Arlington, who was impeached, and, after making a long defence, acquitted by a small majority. He held office for a short time longer, and advocated a treaty of peace with the Dutch, but soon after resigned office, having received (it was said) a douceur from his successor of several thousands.

In 1674 he was named Chamberlain of the Household in recompence (so ran the Royal declaration) ‘of his long and faithful services, and particularly of his having discharged the office of principal Secretary of State to his Majesty’s entire satisfaction.’

Lord Arlington’s wish to be again employed in public affairs was not gratified till 1675, when he once more went on a diplomatic mission to Holland, in company with the Earl of Ossory. Lady Arlington and Lady Ossory were sisters, and members of the house of Nassau. This was his last appearance in public life. Burnet says that ‘Arlington entirely mistook the character of William Prince of Orange,’ with whom he had to deal; speaking to him in a dictatorial manner, which was not at all agreeable to that Prince, although he was then young in years. Arlington still held a place in the royal household, but he had fallen into disgrace, and the King encouraged and enjoyed any jest, or ridicule, at the expense of his former boon companion. Nothing delighted Charles more than to see some of his courtiers put a black patch upon their noses, and strut about with a long white staff, in imitation of ‘Harry Bennet.’

238James II. on his accession did not remove Arlington from his post in the household, but he only survived a few months, dying in July 1685.

He was buried at Euston, in Suffolk. He married Isabella, daughter of Lewis de Nassau, Lord of Beverwart, in the United Provinces, by whom he had an only child, Isabella, married, in 1672, to Henry Fitzroy (son of Charles II. by Barbara Villiers), who was created Earl of Euston and Duke of Grafton.

No. 110.

THE HONOURABLE HENRY THYNNE.

By Sir Godfrey Kneller.

BORN 1675, DIED 1708.

Blue coat. Full wig.

THE eldest son of the first Lord Weymouth, by Lady Frances Finch, daughter of the Earl of Winchilsea. He was of a studious and literary turn of mind, and delighted in the companionship of his father’s guest, Bishop Ken, in conjunction with whom he formed a pleasant coterie of cultivated spirits at Longleat. Henry Thynne was a good linguist, and, as we have mentioned in the notice of Bishop Ken, gave lessons in French and Latin to the young poetess afterwards known as Elizabeth Rowe. He married Grace, daughter and sole heir of Sir George Strode of Leweston, county Dorset, by whom he had two daughters, Frances Countess of Hertford, and Mary, married to William Greville, Lord Brooke, who died in the nineteenth year of her age. Lady Hertford inherited her 239father’s taste for literature, and became a patron and friend of divers authors, many of whom are well known to fame, while others were only local bards. For instance, Pope and Thomson were her guests, while she patronised and befriended Stephen Duck, known by the title of ‘The Wiltshire Thresher.’ Henry Thynne died before his father, at the age of thirty-three.

No. 111.

WILLIAM CAVENDISH, DUKE OF NEWCASTLE.

By Abraham Van Diepenbeke.

BORN 1592, DIED 1676.

He is dressed as a Roman warrior in armour, leading his wife by the hand. She wears a yellow robe, and has a white veil on her head. Several children in fantastic costumes. Horses. One of the children is mounted on horseback.

HE was the son of Sir Charles Cavendish, (who was brother to the first Earl of Devonshire of that family,) by a daughter and co-heir of the last Lord Ogle. Educated at home, and then at Cambridge, he was made Knight of the Bath when Henry (son to King James I.) was created Prince of Wales. He accompanied Sir Henry Wotton on his embassy to Savoy, who writes of him as ‘a young man nobly bred, and of great expectations.’ The Duke of Savoy took a fancy to Cavendish, offered him a high post in his army, and loaded him with valuable presents when he returned to England.

In 1620 he was created Lord Ogle and Viscount Mansfield, having already succeeded to the paternal estates. Charles I., after his accession, further created him Lord Cavendish of 240Bolsover and Earl of Newcastle, and subsequently Governor to the Prince of Wales, with a seat in the Council.

Newcastle was much liked at Court. ‘The King esteemed him highly, as did Wentworth, but Buckingham was jealous of him.’ His manner of living was splendid; indeed, it was said of him later in life, that he went to battle in a coach-and-six. He entertained the King and Queen at his dwelling-houses of Welbeck and Bolsover in so sumptuous a manner as to make a great noise.

When the war broke out with the Scots, he was one of those loyal nobles who contributed large sums towards levying troops for the Royal service, and he raised a regiment at his own expense, which he named the Prince of Wales’s Own. It was on account of a question of precedency for this regiment, (in which many members of the Cavendish family held commissions,) that Newcastle quarrelled with Lord Holland, General of the Horse, and no sooner was the army disbanded, than he sent that General a challenge, but the King having gained intimation of the impending duel, prohibited the same, upon which some of Newcastle’s enemies accused him of avoiding the encounter from want of personal courage, a statement ill borne out by his proverbial valour.

Shortly after this he resigned his post at Court, and retired to his own estates; but, on the breaking out of the Civil War, he once more buckled on his armour, and resumed the military career for which Clarendon tells us ‘he had neither talent nor inclination, but pursued from sheer loyalty.’ Collins gives a very different version, enumerating manifold victories which Newcastle was mainly instrumental in gaining, in the north of England, more especially the battle of Bradford, where the rebels were defeated, and where he took twenty-two great guns, and many colours.

In 1642 he met the Queen at Burlington, when she landed with supplies, and escorted her to Oxford, where the 241King then was, for which and other services he was made Marquis of Newcastle and Knight of the Garter.

In 1643 his first wife died. Newcastle had a stormy time of it in that most stormy period, not only through the vicissitudes of war, not only in the battlefield, but through bickerings and jealousies in the army, and ‘slanderous pens,’ which often tempted the Marquis to throw up his command in disgust. This design he carried into effect, immediately after the battle of Marston Moor, where he commanded the right wing of the Royal army. He took ship at Scarborough, and, accompanied by several relatives and friends, sailed for Hamburgh. He spent many years on the Continent, frequently visiting his royal master Charles II. in Holland, and when the King was invited to Scotland, his faithful servant asked permission to attend him, but was refused by the Scots. While abroad the Duke and Duchess of Newcastle (for he had married a second time) were in most straitened circumstances, and were often compelled to pawn their clothes to procure the necessaries of life, the English Parliament having seized upon most of his estates and revenues, and cut down his timber, which caused the Duchess to go over to England, as we shall presently see. The noble exiles, after many wanderings, had settled in the City of Antwerp—‘my Lord choosing it for the pleasantest and quietest place to retire himself and his ruined fortunes in.’ It was here he wrote that splendid work on Horsemanship which adorns most of our finest libraries, and by which the name of the Marquis of Newcastle will ever be remembered.

At the Restoration they returned to England, when he received a dukedom, but he resolved to have no more to do with public life, and retired to the shade of the few ancestral trees his enemies’ axes had spared him. The Duke’s remaining years were spent in the society of his beloved wife and valued friends, and in the pursuit of his favourite occupations. 242He died at an advanced age, and was buried in Westminster Abbey, where stands a monument to him, on which are represented the forms of William, Duke of Newcastle, the ‘loyall Duke,’ and his wife, side by side. He was brave and accomplished, loved riding, dancing, singing, and was so devoted to poetry, that he was said to have made Sir William Davenant his Lieutenant-General of Ordnance, more on account of his proficiency as a poet, than for any knowledge of military affairs. ‘His courage,’ says Sir Philip Warwick, ‘was invincible, but his edge had too much of the razor in it.’ He was a strong upholder of monarchy and the Church, though not very nice as to points of creed. We have no room for one hundredth part of the eulogiums pronounced on him by his Duchess, but of his exterior she tells us that ‘his shape was exactly proportioned, his stature of a middle size, his complexion sanguine, his behaviour a pattern to all gentlemen, courtly, civil, and fine, without formality,’ and so forth; while another account of him was, ‘a fantastic general and a virtuoso on horseback!’ From the heading of one of the chapters in his book, it is evident he was very proud of his proficiency as an equestrian, for he says, ‘Some, seeing, imitate, and imagine they ride as well as I do.’

His first wife was Margaret Basset of Blore, county Stafford, relict of Henry Howard, son to the Earl of Suffolk, by whom he had a very large family, and of whom her successor records that ‘she was a kind, virtuous, and loving lady, who blessed her husband with dutiful and obedient children, who did all in their power to relieve and support their father in his banishment.’

Margaret Lucas, Newcastle’s second wife, is better known to fame. Her epitaph says ‘she was youngest sister to Lord Lucas of Colchester, a noble familie, for all the brothers were valiant, and all the sisters virtuous. This Duches was a wise, wittie, and learned lady, which her manie books doe 243testifie. She was a most loving, virtuous, and careful wife, and was with her lord all the time of his banishment and miseries, and when he came home, never parted from him in his solitary retirement.’ She was a voluminous writer in a quaint and high-flown style, and a great favourite of Charles Lamb’s, whose mention of her in Elia causes her perhaps to be better known than her own literary merits may lay claim to. Elia says, ‘where a book is good and rare, such a book, for instance, as the life of the Duke of Newcastle, by his Duchess, no casket is sufficiently durable to honour and keep safe such a jewel.’

In 1643, the year in which Lord Newcastle lost his first wife, Margaret Lucas went to the Court of Henrietta Maria, where, she tells us, her gravity, reticent, and virtuous timidity, which ill assorted with the courtly manners of the period, caused her to be regarded as a simpleton. She did not relish the life, but remained on, by her mother’s wish; and when the Queen fled to France, Margaret Lucas accompanied her.

In 1645, Newcastle, being in Paris, saw, and loved the Maid of Honour, who became his wife. The union was most happy. ‘They loved each other truly, and had many pursuits and tastes in common, notwithstanding which a story is told that the Duke, being once complimented on the talent of his wife, replied, ‘Sir, a wise woman is a very foolish thing.’

The Duchess was of graceful person, reserved, and reticent. Her piety, generosity, and charity, were proverbial, and, as we have before observed, when her husband’s affairs were involved, she went to England, where she spent a year and a half, endeavouring with the help of her brother and brother-in-law to get some compensation for the property seized by the Parliament. ‘Then I made haste to return to my Lord, with whom I had rather be as a poor beggar, than to be mistress of the world, absented from him.’ And they were happy, ‘though fortune did pinch their lives with poverty.’

244It would seem that this picture must represent Margaret Lucas, since the first wife was never Duchess; the introduction of the horses, too, would surely imply that the portraits were painted after, or at the time, the book on Horsemanship was published; when we surmise also that Newcastle made the acquaintance of the painter Diepenbeke at Antwerp, though he accompanied the Duke to England.

No. 112.

SIR THOMAS OVERBURY.

By Zucchero.

BORN 1581, POISONED 1613.

Oval. Black coat. Red and white sash. Lace collar. Pointed beard.

WAS of a good family in Warwickshire. Born at Compton Scorfen, the home of his maternal grandfather. Entered Queen’s College, Oxford, as gentleman commoner, where he studied logic and philosophy, and afterwards went to the Middle Temple.

His father, having been bred to the law, wished he should pursue the same calling, but Thomas preferred the study of polite literature, and the allurements of a Court life.

After a brief tour on the Continent he went to Scotland, where he became acquainted with Robert Carr or Kerr, then page to the Earl of Dunbar, and, forming a close friendship, they travelled to London together. Writers appear to be at variance as to the date when King James I. saw, and took a fancy to young Carr; and the story of his falling wounded from his horse, in a tilting-match, at the King’s feet, requires confirmation.

245But there was no doubt that he soon stood high in the royal favour, and Carr was one who well knew how to improve his opportunities, being of a time-serving disposition, and no way above flattery. His education had been neglected, and the ‘royal pedant,’ as James has so often been called, undertook to teach the youth Latin. Whether he prosecuted his studies with much zeal we do not know, but he was an adept in the art of self-aggrandisement; and, believing in Overbury’s disinterested friendship, he consulted him on every step he took. Interceding with the King for his friend, he gained the honour of knighthood (for honour it was indeed esteemed in those days) for Thomas, and managed that the father Overbury should be made a judge. This was about 1608.

Carr himself was raised to the peerage by the title of Viscount Rochester. He became enamoured of the Countess of Essex, (wife to the third Earl of the Devereux family, and daughter to Howard, Earl of Suffolk,) then but eighteen years of age, ‘of a sweet and bewitching countenance, hiding a wicked heart.’ She was headstrong into the bargain, and her passion for Carr knew no bounds. She hated her husband, her father, and all who expostulated with her on her shameless conduct, and smiled on no one but her lover and ‘sweet Mistress Turner,’ her go-between.

It has been adduced against Overbury, that he at first encouraged the intrigue, but when the question of a divorce arose, he left no stone unturned to dissuade Rochester from the attempt to procure one, which brought down upon him the lasting hatred of the beautiful termagant. Overbury warned his friend, that it would be destructive to his future fortunes to marry a woman whose husband was still living; moreover, that her conduct was infamous, and would brand them both with ignominy. Peyton (Sir Thomas’s servant) describes the quarrel which took place between his master and my Lord of Rochester on the occasion.

246Overbury waited ‘in the chamber next the privy gallery’ for the return of Rochester, who did not appear till three in the morning. High words passed between them, my Lord asking angrily what Sir Thomas ‘did there at that time of night;’ Overbury replying by the question, ‘Where have you been? Will you never leave the company of that bad woman?’ But all his warnings and admonitions were thrown away, and only insured him the deadly enmity of both lovers. The King, who was not likely to be deterred by any sense of rectitude from the weak pleasure he found in complying with any demand that Rochester might make, not only connived at the passing of the divorce, but created Carr Earl of Somerset, as he was not considered of sufficiently high rank to marry one who had been a Countess. The lovers now turned their thoughts to the ruin of their quondam friend. It was easy in those days to procure a commitment to the Tower, and Sir Thomas Overbury soon found himself within those dreary walls, Somerset pretending all the while the greatest friendship for the prisoner.

Overbury’s father wrote him a pleading letter in behalf of his son, but Sir Thomas was not allowed to see any friends. There can be no doubt of the fact that his food was drugged, and he fell into bad health; but his constitution was strong, and he languished for some time.

The perfidious Somerset sent him a white powder that he was ‘convinced would be efficacious. He might,’ he said, ‘take it without fear, even if it produced sickness, which sickness may be a plea for your release.’

The unfortunate man’s release was by the hand of death. He died from the effects of strong poison administered to him medically, and was buried with indecent haste. Ugly rumours were abroad, and the names of Lord and Lady Somerset were in many mouths, but few cared to come forward as accusers while the mantle of Royal protection was thrown over them. 247But ‘Robie’ was supplanted at Court by ‘Steenie,’ or in other words, by George Villiers, afterwards Duke of Buckingham; and when his star was in the ascendant, then the mouths of many were opened. About this time too, a curious incident occurred which helped to confirm the suspicions concerning Overbury’s mysterious death.

One day that Lord Salisbury was entertaining at the same time, at dinner, Sir Gervase Elwes (Governor of the Tower at the time of Overbury’s death) and Sir Ralph Winwood, Secretary of State, his lordship recommended the former to the patronage of the latter, upon which Winwood said how much he wished Elwes could clear himself of the imputation of murder that had been cast upon him. Whereon he (Elwes) spoke out, and confessed all, together with the share that the Earl and Countess of Somerset had had in the terrible transaction, and so it came about that the guilty pair were arrested with the consent of the King.

The hypocritical James, taking leave of his ex-favourite, embraced him with every show of affection; but no sooner had he left the apartment, than he cried out: ‘The devil go with thee, for I will never see thy face again.’

The trial of persons so high in position, and so well known in royal circles, caused a great sensation, and the Court was crowded with ladies and great personages. Lord Somerset wore a dress of black satin, and a gown of uncut velvet, his ruff and cuffs were of cobweb lace, neither had he forgotten to wear his George and Garter, or have his hair carefully curled. His handsome face was very pale, and he pleaded not guilty. ‘He trusted to the justice of the Lords to acquit him.’ He denied everything, even his own letters, which he said were ‘counterfeit.’

The lady was arraigned next day, and her demeanour, which we are told by a contemporary was ‘sober,’ was altogether different from that of her husband. She pleaded guilty 248with a low obeisance. She several times covered her face with her fan, during evidence given, but she confessed everything. She shed (or made a show of shedding) some tears divers times. Her deportment, says the same authority, ‘was more curious and confident than was fit for a lady in such distress.’

Yet it is also said of her that her voice was scarce audible from fear, when she hoped the Lords would intercede for her. The verdict was, that the Earl and Countess of Somerset, with several accomplices, were guilty of devising and compassing the murder of Sir Thomas Overbury.

The King, fickle and cruel as he was, appeared very uneasy during the trial, even going so far as to lose his appetite for dinner and supper; but he did not like the idea of signing the death-warrant of the two people at whose wickedness he had connived; so he signed their pardon, and they were committed to the Tower—the lady not being taken thither till after her confinement, when it is said she shed a few tears over her new-born daughter, and was removed to prison.

The accomplices, Elwes, Weston, and the beautiful but infamous ‘Mistress Turner,’ Lady Somerset’s go-between in her amours, and abettor in the murder of Overbury, with others, were all executed.

An eye-witness speaks of the bewitching appearance of the fair Mistress Turner on the scaffold. ‘I saw her die,’ says the letter alluded to—‘her powdered hair, her yellow bands, her starched ruff;’ and a poem that was written, called ‘Overbury’s Vision,’ speaks of the cruel cord that did ‘misbecome her comely neck; yet by man’s just doom had been her death.’ ‘Sighs and tears and Court vanities,’ etc. etc.

Lord and Lady Somerset lived together in the Tower till 1622, when an order from the King in Council set them at liberty, prescribing for them, however, a place of residence. James intended to restore their property, which was forfeited, 249but died before the fulfilment of his promise, and Charles I. did not see fit to ratify the same. They were in consequence reduced to great poverty, and the passion which had led them to such fatal extremes turned to loathing; so that, although residing under the same roof, Lord and Lady Somerset lived as strangers, and the miserable woman died of a most painful disease, crying out in her last moments on the name of the husband she had so basely injured: ‘Oh, Essex! Essex!’

A touching incident is told of their daughter, the wife of the Earl of Bedford. Her portrait by Vandyck is well known, and her sweet fair face and lovely form live in more than one gallery. Lord Somerset dearly loved his only child; the affection was mutual, and she reverenced his memory; but one sad day, as the lovely Lady Bedford sat reading by the window, she came accidentally across a pamphlet which opened her eyes to the complicated guilt of both her parents. The shock was too much for her, and the next person who entered the room found her in a swoon on the floor, with the open book beside her.

We have perhaps afforded too much space, in a notice purporting to be a life of Sir Thomas Overbury, to the story of Somerset and his wife, but the lives are so intimately connected, that we hope to be held excused. Overbury had a reputation for wit and talent, and wrote several pieces in prose and verse.

No. 113.

THOMAS, SECOND MARQUIS OF BATH,

WHEN YOUNG.

By Hoppner.

DIED 1837.

Maroon-coloured coat. White waistcoat.

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No. 114.

JOHN RUSSELL, SIXTH DUKE OF BEDFORD.

BORN 1766, DIED 1839.

Seated in a red chair. Black coat. Wig.

HE was the second son of the Marquis of Tavistock, by Lady Elizabeth, daughter of the second Earl of Albemarle, of the Keppel family. Lord Tavistock was killed by a fall from his horse in 1767, and his widow died of grief. Of their three sons the two eldest succeeded to the Dukedom and estates, and the third (posthumous), Lord William, was murdered by his valet Courvoisier in 1840. In 1786 John Russell married Georgiana Byng, second daughter of the fourth Lord Torrington, who died in 1801, and two years afterwards Lady Georgiana, daughter of the fourth Duke of Gordon, which lady died in 1853. The Duke had children by both marriages.

No. 115.

SIR KENELM DIGBY.

Old Stone, after Vandyck.

BORN 1603, DIED 1665.

Black dress. Pointed beard.

SON of Sir Everard Digby, born at Gothurst or Gayhurst, county Bucks, the property of his mother, daughter and sole heir of William Mulsho.

He was but a child when his father suffered death, as one of the conspirators in the Gunpowder Plot. The Crown laid claim to the estates 251and revenues of the family, but the widowed Lady Digby, a woman of great energy and determination, not only saved her own dower, by her strenuous efforts, but rescued a few hundreds for her son out of the wreck, and, although a rigid Roman Catholic, she suffered her boy to be educated as a Protestant from prudential motives. The romance of the loves of Kenelm Digby and Venetia Stanley, which made such a noise at the time, and has been the subject of curiosity and controversy ever since, whenever their names are mentioned, began at a very early age. Sir Edward Stanley of the noble house of Derby lived at Tong Castle, county Salop. He married the daughter and co-heir of the Earl of Northumberland, who brought him two daughters, ‘the divine Venetia’ being the youngest. Her mother died when she was a few months old. The widower gave himself up to grief, shunned all society, and could not even derive comfort from the society of his children. He sent them therefore (or at all events Venetia) to the care of a relative, who was a neighbour of Lady Digby’s. Thus began the acquaintance, and Sir Edward’s beautiful little girl and Lady Digby’s lovely boy met constantly, and played at love-making, jealousy, rivalry, coquetry, quarrels, reconciliations,—in fact a perfect rehearsal of all the drama that was to be enacted in good earnest, a few years later. The marriage of the Princess Elizabeth with the Palatine, afterwards King of Bohemia, called Sir Edward to London. With a violent wrench he tore himself away from his beloved seclusion, and sending for Venetia carried her with him to the Court of King James, then the scene of great festivity.

In all these gaieties, according to Digby’s account, the juvenile beauty took part, and was the centre of admiration. In the meantime her young lover pursued his studies under the care of Laud, Dean of Gloucester, subsequently Archbishop of Canterbury, and afterwards with Dr. Thomas Allen, an eminent scholar, at Oxford.

252Digby distinguished himself at the University, where he remained two years, but whenever he returned home for the vacation, the flirtation with his fair neighbour was resumed. He wrote a strange and wild romance respecting her, in which it is impossible to disentangle truth from fiction, but some of the adventures are too marvellous for belief, and the whole narrative disagreeable, and tedious in to the bargain.

His jealousy seems to have been excited by a certain courtier, whose suit, he affirms, was favoured by Venetia’s governess. Lady Digby was too wise a mother to smile on such a precocious courtship, even if she disbelieved the reports which had already begun to circulate, detrimental to mistress Stanley’s reputation.

She despatched her son on foreign travel, but before his departure the lovers had met and plighted their troth. According to the traveller’s own account he made a conquest of the French Queen when in Paris en route for Italy.

A report of his death having been accidentally or purposely circulated, Venetia’s conduct on the occasion was differently represented to her absent lover, some declaring she was inconsolable, others that she lent a willing ear to the suit of the very same courtier who had before excited Kenelm’s jealousy.

Nothing can be more bombastic and high-flown than the language in which he describes the fluctuations of his passion for Venetia, his implicit trust in her constancy in one page, his doubts and suspicions in another.

It seems more than probable that the prudent Lady Digby intercepted her son’s love-letters, and did all in her power to prevent a marriage she thought most undesirable, and she was doubtless delighted when Kenelm accompanied his kinsman, Lord Bristol, to Spain, where he was then negotiating the Prince of Wales’s marriage with the Infanta at Madrid. Kenelm became himself attached to the Prince’s suite, and took an active part in diplomatic transactions.

253In this land of romance it may well be imagined that the handsome and accomplished Englishman ran the gauntlet of many adventures among the dark-eyed daughters of the south, nor does he omit to allude to innumerable conquests; indeed, he went so far as to have a portrait of himself painted with an effigy of one of his victims in the background, but he incessantly boasted of his constancy to the absent loved one. On his return to England with the Prince of Wales, he was knighted by the King at Hinchingbrook, and immediately flew to his lady-love in spite of maternal prohibition. Then followed recriminations, explanations, trials of her faith and virtue, challenges, duels—a stormy suit, indeed, according to his own testimony.

Respecting the date of their marriage, there is great difference of opinion. At all events, Kenelm insisted on its being kept secret, nor was poor Venetia allowed to announce it, even when a fall from her horse brought on a premature confinement, which nearly cost her her life.

King James admired Sir Kenelm for his great erudition, and complimented him on his essays on Sympathetic Powder, Alchemy, and other subjects bordering on the supernatural. On the accession of Charles I. Sir Kenelm Digby was made gentleman of the privy chamber, commissioner of the navy, and governor of the Trinity House, shortly after which, he was appointed to the command of a naval squadron, sent to the Mediterranean against the Venetian fleet, and the Algerine pirates.

In this voyage he was eminently successful, bringing the Venetians to terms, chastising the pirates, and releasing a large number of English slaves. It is said that on the eve of his embarkation, a second son being born to him, he had permitted his wife to declare their marriage, and had consigned her to the care of his kinsman, Lord Bristol, during his absence from England. About this time, his faithful 254old friend, Thomas Allen, bequeathed to him a splendid library, which he made over to the Bodleian.

In 1633, after his return, his beautiful but far from happy wife died, and the mystery which had shrouded Venetia’s whole life hung like a dark cloud over her death, and reports of all kinds were current.

There is no doubt that Sir Kenelm had been in the habit of making chemical and alchemical experiments on Venetia for some time past, and the tradition of the concoction of snails which he had invented as a preservative of her naturally brilliant complexion is still extant at Gayhurst, where it is said the somewhat rare breed of large ‘Pomatia’ is still to be found.

By Digby’s desire, his wife’s head (‘which contained but little brain’) was opened, and he decided that she had taken an overdose of viper wine. But spiteful women declared she had fallen a victim to a viper husband’s jealousy, though Aubrey, who tells sad tales of Venetia before her marriage, says she was a blameless wife.

There is more than one portrait of her, with allegorical emblems of Innocence, Slander, and the like. Her name had often been coupled with that of the Earl of Dorset, and some said he had settled an annuity on her, which was paid up to the time of her death. Be this as it may, Sir Kenelm and Lady Digby always dined once a year with my Lord Dorset, who received them courteously but formally, only permitting himself to kiss the beauty’s hand with great respect.

Venetia was buried in a church near Newgate, in a tomb of black marble, with long inscriptions, surmounted by a copper-gilt bust, all destroyed in the great fire. Numerous epitaphs were written in her honour. Ben Jonson calls her ‘A tender mother, a discreet wife, a solemn mistress, a good friend, so lovely and charitable in all her petite actions, so devote in her whole life,’ etc.

Whatever Sir Kenelm’s real feelings were, his outward grief 255was extreme. He retired to Gresham College, lived like a hermit, studied chemistry, wore a long mourning cloak, and left his beard unshorn. Although it was generally supposed that his secession from the Protestant faith took place when he was in Spain, it was not until 1653 that he wrote to his friend Laud (whose admirable answer is extant) to announce the fact. He was a firm adherent of Charles I., and greatly esteemed by Henrietta Maria; but his loyalty got him into trouble with the Parliament, and he was exiled to France. Returning in a few months, he was imprisoned in 1640 for nearly three years, and was supposed only to have regained his liberty through the intercession of the French Queen, who had loved him twenty years before. His release, however, was conditional. He was forbidden to take part in any public affairs, and he therefore gave himself up to literary and scientific pursuits, and engaged in a polemical correspondence with his quondam tutor, Laud, whom he is said to have tempted to change his faith, by the bait of a Cardinal’s Hat. Sir Kenelm returned to France, and frequented the Court of his old flame, the Queen-Dowager, where his noble appearance, almost gigantic size, his handsome features, agreeable conversation and manners, his learning, and last, but perhaps not least, his predilection for the occult sciences, made him an universal favourite. On the death of his eldest son, killed on the Royalist side at the battle of St. Neot’s, Sir Kenelm returned to compound for his estates, but was not suffered to remain in England. He went back to Paris, where Henrietta Maria made him her Chancellor. And he was then intrusted with a mission to Pope Innocent X., who welcomed him at first, but after a time the ‘Englishman grew high, and hectored at His Holiness, and gave him the lie.’

Once more in England, after the dissolution of the Long Parliament, Cromwell took him into his confidence, hoping by his mediation to gain over the Roman Catholics.

256His conduct in these circumstances has been praised by some and censured by others, as may well be imagined, according to religious and political bias. He travelled through France, Lower Germany, and the Palatinate, always seeking and being sought by men of letters; and 1660 saw him once more back in his native land.

Charles II. showed him but little favour. He was nominated F.R.S., and resided (1663) in a fair house in Covent Garden, where he had a laboratory. ‘Philosopher, theologian, courtier, soldier; polite, amiable, handsome, graceful.’ Lord Clarendon’s testimony is, ‘eccentric, vain, unstable in religion, a duellist.’ These are the counterbalancing portraits of Sir Kenelm Digby. He desired to be buried near Venetia. His epitaph was as follows:—

‘Under this tomb the matchless Digby lies,

Digby the great, the brilliant, and the wise;

This age’s wonder, for his noble partes,

Skilled in six tongues, and learn’d in all the artes!

Born on the day he died, th’ eleventh of June,

And that day bravely fought at Scanderoon:

It’s rare that one and the same day should be

The day of birth, and death, and victory.’

He had four sons and one daughter.

No. 116.

SIR WILLIAM LYNCH.

IN PASTEL.

DIED 1785.

Blue coat. Red collar and cuffs.

SON of Dr. Lynch, Dean of Glastonbury, friend of the first Lord Bath’s. Was Member of Parliament for Canterbury and other places.

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No. 117.

ARCHBISHOP JUXON.

By Vandyck.

BORN 1582, DIED 1663.

In Bishop’s robes.

THE son of Richard Juxon of Chichester, in Sussex, where he was born. Educated at Merchant Taylors’ School, and in 1598 elected a Fellow of St. John’s, Oxford. Destined for the bar, he studied civil law at the University, and took his degree of B.C.L. in 1603, having already entered as student at Gray’s Inn.

He changed his mind, however, and read divinity with much diligence, took Orders, and was granted a living by his College,—St. Giles’s, Oxford; but he removed in 1614 to Somerton, in the same county. In the east window of this church is his paternal coat of arms.

He kept up his connection with the University, and was much esteemed by Laud, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury. This remarkable man, destined to play so conspicuous a part in public life, was then President of St. John’s College, an office which he resigned in 1621, and it was chiefly owing to his exertions that Juxon was chosen to succeed him. In the same year Juxon became Doctor of Laws, and later on Vice-Chancellor of the University. Laud, who was first Bishop of Bath and Wells, and then of London, and high in favour with Charles I., interested the King in Juxon’s preferment. He was appointed Chaplain-in-Ordinary to His Majesty, 258Dean of Worcester, and Prebendary of Chichester, and, at Laud’s particular request, Clerk of the Closet. This was in 1632, and Laud’s object in the choice was said to have been his ‘desire to have some one he could trust near the royal person, should he himself grow weak or infirm.’

New honours crowded on Dr. Juxon. He was elected to the Bishopric of Hereford in 1633, and made Dean of the King’s Chapel, but before consecration was translated to the See of London, Laud having become Primate of England. Laud, it seems, had made himself unpopular in the diocese with many of its members, but the mild and genial temper of the new Bishop gained him much respect and kindly feeling. The Archbishop of Canterbury desired above most things the aggrandisement of Churchmen, and their preferment to public offices of State, and for that aim he worked both for himself and his friend.

Dr. Juxon was, through his influence, raised to the office of Lord High Treasurer, a post which had not been filled by a Churchman since the reign of Henry VII., and this step was much cavilled at by the greater part of the nation, especially by many members of noble families who considered themselves (from their position at least) better fitted for the situation than a clergyman hitherto little known beyond the precincts of his College, and only two years in the possession of a mitre. Loud and angry were the invectives poured on the Government, but more particularly on the Primate,—the Puritans, Laud’s bitter enemies, being most violent on the occasion.

Juxon, in the meanwhile, by his wisdom and discretion, and the excellency of his administration, disarmed the anger of most of those who were so averse to his nomination, and, says Chalmers, ‘when the Republican party ransacked every office for causes of impeachment, sequestration, and death, they found nothing to object to in Bishop Juxon.’

In 1641 he was one of the few manly and generous-hearted 259Englishmen who defended the cause of Strafford. On the passing of the bill of attainder, which he had strenuously opposed, the Lord High Treasurer resigned his office, and retired to his palace at Fulham, where he remained quietly for some time, unshaken in his loyalty to the King, and often visited by persons of distinction, many of whom consulted him and valued his advice. Charles paid him this tribute: ‘I will say, I never got his opinion freely in my life, but when I had it, I was ever the better for it.’

By consent of the Parliament, Juxon waited on the King at the treaty in the Isle of Wight, 1648, and by Charles’s particular desire, at Cotton House, in Westminster, in January of the following year, at the commencement of the trial.

He now never left the King, who found in this excellent Churchman the greatest comfort and support. He stood beside his royal master on the scaffold, and when the last moment was approaching, ‘There is, sir,’ he said, ‘but one stage more, which, though turbulent and troublesome, is still a very short one. It will soon carry you a great way: it will carry you from earth to heaven, and there you shall find, to your great joy, the prize to which you hasten—a crown of glory.’

‘I go,’ said Charles, ‘from a corruptible to an incorruptible crown, where no disturbance can be.’

‘You are exchanged,’ said Juxon, ‘from a temporal to an eternal crown—a good exchange.’

In taking his last leave of his faithful and devoted friend, Charles looked at him earnestly and said, ‘Remember!’ delivering at the same time his diamond George, to be given to his son.

The King’s last word brought down upon the Bishop the wrath and curiosity of the regicides. They insisted on knowing what it signified.

They insisted also on Juxon’s betraying the confidence of 260his Sovereign, by detailing all his last conversations. So far the Bishop answered, that the King had charged him to instil into his son’s mind the necessity of forgiving his murderers, and that the word ‘Remember’ had reference to this admonition; but this did not satisfy the suspicions of the inquirers. He accompanied the body to Windsor, where the cruelty of those in power forbade him to read the Funeral Service over the beloved remains. The Commonwealth deprived Juxon of his bishopric, and he retired to his private estate of Little Compton in Gloucestershire, where he remained for some time without molestation, occasionally indulging in the relaxation of field sports, to which he, in common with his Grace the Archbishop, was much addicted.

At the Restoration he was raised to the Primacy, and at the Coronation he placed the crown on the head of Charles II. During the short period of his Archbishopric, Juxon enlarged and improved Lambeth and Croydon Palaces, and greatly ameliorated the clerical state of the See. He died of a painful disease in 1663, and was interred with great pomp in St. John’s College, Oxford, near the tomb of his friend and patron, Archbishop Laud. He left considerable sums to be laid out in Fellowships for his favourite College, and many charitable bequests. His reputation for moderation, piety, learning, and unswerving loyalty can scarcely be questioned. Not many of his genuine writings are extant.

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No. 118.

WILLIAM LAUD, ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY.

By Vandyck.

BORN 1573, BEHEADED 1645.

In Bishop’s robes.

SON of a clothier at Reading. Became Fellow of St. John’s College, Oxford, and afterwards took Orders. Was very vehement; very much opposed to the Puritans; had many different livings; named chaplain to James I., whom he accompanied to Scotland. Was Prebendary of Westminster; consecutively Bishop of St. David’s, Bath and Wells, and London, and subsequently Prime Minister, and Archbishop of Canterbury. In 1622 he held a famous conference with Fisher the Jesuit, in the presence of the Duke of Buckingham and his mother, who were wavering in their allegiance to the Protestant faith, and were fixed therein by the eloquence of Laud. Yet it was said of him that he was more than once tempted to abjure his religion by the offer of a Cardinal’s Hat; each time, however, he gave an emphatic denial. He was very strict respecting the revision and licensing of published books by high ecclesiastical authority, and was concerned in several prosecutions of the Star-Chamber against Bishop Williams, the Master of Westminster School, etc. etc. When the Parliament was abruptly dissolved in 1639, Laud was attacked in his palace at Lambeth by the mob. He had indeed made himself unpopular with the people at large, and with the House of Commons; and on the accusation of Sir Henry Vane, he was sent to the Tower in 1641, where he was detained three years, and treated with 262great severity. In 1644 he was tried, and though the treasonable charges were not proved, the bill of attainder was passed. He made an eloquent defence; but all in vain. The execution of Strafford was the forerunner of his own, and he suffered death on Tower Hill, displaying great courage. Clarendon says: ‘Such learning, piety, and virtue have been attained by few, and the greatest of his infirmities are common to all men.’

Of all the prelates of the Anglican Church, Lord Macaulay says, Laud departed furthest from the principles of the Reformation, and nearest to Rome. He hated Calvinism, loved forms and ceremonies, and advocated celibacy among the clergy, all of which opinions made him an object of abhorrence to the Puritans, and there was no love lost. Every corner of the realm, every separate congregation, nay, it was said the private devotions of individuals, were subjected to the supervision of his spies. Unfortunately for himself and the country, Charles was influenced in all public matters by the precepts of the Primate. He was a staunch friend, a genial companion, shrewd and witty, and fond of field sports. In fact, all his tastes and qualities endeared him to Lord Strafford, as we have mentioned in the notice of that remarkable man.

263