LOWER CORRIDOR.

87LOWER CORRIDOR.

No. 42.

MARIA AUDLEY, THE HONOURABLE

LADY THYNNE.

By Mytens.

Full length. Richly-embroidered crimson skirt, laced and fringed, over

gown of white. White shoes. Holding fan.

THE first wife of Sir Thomas Thynne, daughter and co-heir of Lord Audley, by Lucia, daughter and heir of Sir James Mervin of Fonthill. Strange enough, there had been a negotiation of marriage between Miss Mervin and Sir John Thynne, father of Sir Thomas. We are not told why the owner of Longleat disapproved of the match for his son, but the families were destined to be united.

Maria, Lady Thynne, had five children,—John, who died unmarried; Thomas, seated at Richmond in Surrey, died v.p.; James, who succeeded his father; and two daughters,—Stuart, married to Sir Edward Bayntun of Bromham Bayntun, county Wilts, and Elizabeth, married to John Hall of Bradford, in the same county.

The reason assigned for Lady Thynne having sat for her portrait in an interesting, rather than a becoming condition, is as follows: she had a dream that she should not survive her confinement, and told her husband, if he wished to possess a picture of her no time must be lost. It is possible that her fears may have hastened the event, for the story goes that the foreboding was fulfilled at the appointed time, but we have only family tradition as our authority.

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No. 43.

CATHARINE HOWARD, THE HONOURABLE

LADY THYNNE.

By Mytens.

DIED 1650.

Full length. White gown, richly embroidered in coloured flowers. Blue

and gold band on left arm.

SHE was the daughter of Charles Viscount Howard of Bindon, and second wife to Sir Thomas Thynne of Longleat, by whom she had (beside two sons who died unmarried) Sir Henry Frederick Thynne of Kempsford.

Lady Thynne was buried in Henry VII.’s Chapel, Westminster Abbey, near the steps of the Duke of Richmond’s monument.

No. 44.

LADY ISABELLA THYNNE.

By Dobson.

Full length. White gown. Coloured scarf. Ringlets.

Holding a handkerchief.

THE daughter of Henry Rich, Earl of Holland, by the heiress of Sir William Cope of Kensington. There is a most tragical story connected with this lady’s youth. King James I., with the shameful injustice that characterised him, had wrested the estates and revenues of the noble family of Butler from their rightful owner, the Earl of Ormonde, and bestowed them on 89a favourite of his own, Preston by name, who was, moreover, created Baron Dingwall, and eventually Earl of Desmond.

Lord Dingwall married Lady Elizabeth Butler, whose brother, Lord Ormonde, had been despoiled in his favour. Their only child Elizabeth became the Earl of Holland’s ward, and was brought up chiefly under his roof; she was a beautiful and engaging girl, when her cousin, Lord Thurles, (Lord Ormonde’s son,) fell in love with her. It was a most suitable match, and so thought Lord Holland and his wife, and, indeed, the whole household. The cousins pledged their troth, Lord Thurles’s visits were encouraged, and all went well for a time, but so great a prize as Lady Elizabeth Preston was sure to be coveted. The Duke of Buckingham desired her hand for his nephew, and induced the King to forbid the marriage with young Lord Thurles.

Elizabeth’s affections were irrevocably fixed, and she had many friends and confidants; her guardian durst not assist her openly, having received the King’s commands on the subject; but there was one who was in a position to do so, and that was his daughter Isabella, Elizabeth’s chosen friend, and sister, (in all but blood,) a beautiful sharp-witted girl of her own age, who admitted Lord Thurles every day, at all hours, in a clandestine manner, (as was necessary,) nor did her parents object, or interfere with her proceedings, but allowed her to make a feint of receiving Lord Thurles’s addresses, and implicit trust was placed by all parties in Isabella’s rectitude.

Alas! for the compact which we must believe was begun in good faith: Lord Thurles was young, handsome, agreeable, captivating in fact, and the rôle of confidante is proverbially dangerous. In an evil moment he forgot his loyalty to his betrothed, and Isabella forgot her friend, herself, her duty, and all but her infatuation for the man, who was playing a double part by the two girls.

90Surely no romance can outdo this real history in sensational incident. Lord Desmond was drowned about the same time his wife died, leaving as her last injunction that Elizabeth should marry no one but her cousin, and by that means restore him the property, the acquisition of which had weighed heavily on poor Lady Desmond’s mind. Buckingham was assassinated, the King died, and Charles I., on his accession, gave the royal consent to the union of the cousins. ‘And so,’ says the biographer of the great Duke of Ormonde (who, by the way, makes very light of this episode with his bride’s friend), ‘the marriage was joyously consummated, and every one content.’ We are not informed how the unfortunate Lady Isabella fared on the occasion, but the dénouement remains to be told. Several years afterwards, when Ormonde was in Paris, he went to the Academy there to visit a handsome and intelligent youth, whom he had sent thither for his education, whereupon he sat down and wrote a long description of the boy to Lady Isabella (then the wife of Sir James Thynne), being a subject in which they had a common interest. As ill-luck would have it, he at the same time indited a letter to his wife, and misdirected the covers; while Lady Ormonde was occupied in making the discovery that she had been cruelly betrayed, and deceived by the two people she loved best, and trusted most, in the world, Isabella came in, and found her reading the fatal letter.

An agitating scene ensued, Isabella humbled herself before the woman she had so grievously injured, and sought by every means of fascination which she possessed to soften her just resentment.

Tears, sobs, caresses, remorse. Elizabeth, generous and high-minded, almost beyond belief, raised the suppliant who was kneeling at her feet, with the promise not only of pardon, but of unchanging friendship; a promise nobly kept, as we shall see later. Still more marvellous is the fact, (for we can 91scarcely doubt the evidence,) that Lady Ormonde not only never upbraided her husband, but maintained a profound silence on the subject. As to Lady Isabella’s marriage to Sir James Thynne, we have been unable to ascertain the date, or any circumstances attending it. But it would appear she lived apart from her husband for some time before the legal separation, which took place (according to Longleat documents) in 1653. She led a most independent life during the time the Court was at Oxford: we are told a great deal about Lady Isabella Thynne, who lodged at Balliol College; strange stories of her doings; of ‘how she and Mistress Fanshawe went to morning chapel dressed as angels,’ i.e. in scanty drapery; of ‘how our grove is converted into a Daphne, for the ladies and their gallants; how Lady Isabella used to make her entry there, in a jaunty manner, with a lute before her, dressed in a fantastical costume;’ also how she and her friend Fanshawe paid a visit for a frolic to a great Don, and behaved in so extravagant a manner, that the learned man rebuked the two ladies sharply.

Lady Isabella seems to have carried her eccentricities a little too far, according to some contemporary evidence: ‘They say there is a lady banisht from Court lately—the Lady Thinne. It is a bad sign when such stars fall.’ Again: ‘It was reported that Her Majesty should strike the good Lady Thynne; methinks it should not be true. Yet they say Her Majesty gave her a box on the ear, which Lady Thynne gave Mr. Gorman to keep.’

In 1647 the paper entitled Parliament of Ladies for that year said, ‘The rattle-headed ladies having assembled at Kate’s in the Covent Garden, and choosing a speaker, at last resolved on Lady Isabella Thynne.’ But we have dwelt perhaps too long on the vagaries of one whom we are assured ‘was most beautiful, most accomplished, most humble, most charitable.’ The destinies of the two women who had been 92early friends, but whose characters were so opposed, seem to have been strangely entangled. Lady Isabella was fated to cross Lady Ormonde’s path once more; the occurrence is a curious one, and is related in the life of Lord Broghill (afterwards better known as the Earl of Orrery), who was at the time in high favour with Cromwell, and had pleaded Lady Ormonde’s cause to some purpose, with the autocrat, being deeply attached to that most noble lady and her husband. He had just returned from Ireland, where he had distinguished himself, when he was summoned to the Protector’s presence.

‘If you are still interested in my Lord Ormonde’s safety,’ said Oliver, ‘you had better advise him to leave London. We know all about him, where he is, what he is doing, and he had best absent himself.’ The hint was given and taken, and Lord Ormonde left England in haste. A short time elapsed, when one day Lady Ormonde was much distressed by receiving a domiciliary visit from one of Cromwell’s functionaries, who ransacked the house, and carried away every paper he could find.

She immediately sent for her faithful friend, and besought him to intercede once more in her behalf.

Broghill lost no time, but hastened off to Whitehall, where he found the great man in a towering passion.

‘You have undertaken, indeed, for the quietness of a fine person,’ he said. ‘I have allowed my Lady Ormonde £2000 a year, out of her husband’s estates, because they were sufferers in Ireland. But I find she is a wicked woman, and I promise you she shall pay for it.’ It was some time before Lord Broghill could gain a hearing, but when he was permitted to speak, he asked what proof could be adduced of Lady Ormonde’s treachery, upon which Cromwell threw him a letter, that certainly left no doubt of the writer’s Royalist tendencies and disaffection to the existing Government.

93‘This had been found,’ he said, ‘in searching the escritoire at Ormonde House.’ Lord Broghill could not help laughing. ‘But this,’ he said, ‘is not the writing of my Lady Ormonde.’

‘Indeed,’ exclaimed Cromwell angrily, ‘and pray who wrote these lines?’

Bent on saving Lady Ormonde’s credit, Lord Broghill not only told him the letter was from Lady Isabella Thynne, (between whom and Lord Ormonde there had been undoubted love-passages,) but he produced some other letters of the same lady, to identify the handwriting, and further proceeded to relate several anecdotes of a most lively nature, respecting her, which turned all Cromwell’s anger into mirth, and he laughed immoderately.

Broghill’s judicious conduct had gained Lady Ormonde’s cause. But some time afterwards she went to reside at Caen, her husband being on the Continent, and Lady Isabella having got herself into hot water once more, recalled and claimed her friend’s promise. Nor did she do so in vain: Lady Ormonde welcomed her to her house, where Isabella remained two years, during which time Lord Ormonde was a frequent visitor. We do not give the dates, as they are not clearly set down by our authorities; but to the best of our belief she was in England in 1653. Lord Clarendon tells us ‘that Hyde’s heart ached for poor Lady Isabella Thynne.’

No less a poet than Waller wrote verses to her, on her playing the lute, on her exquisite cutting of trees in paper, etc.

In 1665 one Flecknoe’s Muse was also inspired by her charms.

Of her death we know nothing; but there was a story current that both she and her sister, the Lady Diana, had warnings of their approaching dissolution by meeting their own ‘fetches,’ the latter lady in Kensington Gardens.

94

No. 45.

MARY COVENTRY, THE HONOURABLE LADY THYNNE.

By Sir Peter Lely.

Full length. White gown. Blue scarf over her shoulders.

Pearl ornaments. Ringlets.

SHE was the daughter of Lord Keeper Coventry, and the wife of Sir Henry Frederick Thynne, by whom she had three sons and two daughters,—Thomas, who succeeded his father, James, who died unmarried, and Henry Frederick; Mary, wife of Sir Richard How, Wishford, county Wilts; and Catherine, wife of Sir John Lowther, afterwards Viscount Lonsdale.

No. 46.

SIR WALTER COVERT.

By Mytens.

Full length. Black dress and sword belt. Lace collar and cuffs.

THE Coverts were an ancient and knightly race, supposed to be of Norman origin; settled in Sussex about the middle of the twelfth century. A marriage with an heiress of the Norman family of the D’Aiguillon brought them good estates, Broadbridge and Sullington in the same county, and at the latter place they remained for several generations; in the church there is the tomb of a mailed knight—temp. Henry III.—supposed to be that of Sir William de Covert. They formed 95alliances with some of the oldest families in Sussex, and were reckoned the richest untitled gentry in that part of the country, where they were held in good repute.

In the reigns of Henry VIII., Elizabeth, and James, there is so much confusion in the printed pedigrees and county histories respecting the Coverts that we are unable to mention names and circumstances relating to Sir Walter, with any degree of certainty. In a Sussex archæological journal, we find that in 1587 a survey of the county was made by Thomas Parker and Sir Walter Covert (two deputy-lieutenants) in order to ascertain how far the shores were prepared for defence. Sir Walter was twice married. By his first wife, Anne Covert, he had a son, the first and only Baronet. It is difficult to decide if he obtained the estate of Slaughane by this marriage, or by inheritance, but he is reputed to have been the builder of the noble mansion there. His second wife was Jane Shurley. Sir Walter died before the year 1632.

No. 47.

JANE SHURLEY, LADY COVERT.

By Cornelius Jansen.

Full length. White dress. Red under-skirt. Red and white ribbons.

In a garden.

DAUGHTER of Sir John Shurley of Ifield, county Sussex, who died in 1631. She married Sir Walter Covert as his second wife, and after his death became the second wife of Denzil Lord Holles. The dates which are given of this lady’s birth, marriage, and death are so different, according to different authorities, that we think it best not to adopt any.

96

No. 48.

GASPARD DE CHÂTILLON, SIRE DE COLIGNY,

GRAND AMIRAL DE FRANCE.

BORN 1517, MURDERED 1572.

Black dress. Black hat.

HE was the son of Jean de Châtillon, Sire de Coligny, and was born at the ancestral estate of Châtillon-sur-Loing. His mother was Louise de Montmorency; his father dying when he was quite a child, the guardianship devolved on Gaspard’s maternal uncle, the celebrated Connetâble de Montmorency. The boy was educated in the Roman Catholic religion, and he showed much talent and intelligence, but rather drew back from distinguishing himself, lest his family should insist on his entering the Church, a step to which he was much averse.

He showed, on the contrary, an early predilection for a military career, and the King (Henry II.), whose favour he had gained, appointed him, while still young, to a high post in the army. Coligny, when at Court, had formed a close intimacy with François Duc de Guise, and joining the army together, they were for some time inseparable brothers-in-arms. In De Coligny’s first campaign he was twice severely wounded, and also made prisoner of war; he served in Flanders, in Italy, in Picardy, etc. etc. His courage and endurance were proverbial, and when intrusted with diplomatic negotiations he showed great ability. In 1552-3 he was appointed Lord High Admiral of France, and about two years afterwards he, with the royal consent, vacated his military command in favour of his well-loved brother and brave comrade, François de Coligny (better known as 97D’Andelot), and returned to his home and family at Châtillon, where he gave himself up for some time to theological studies, more particularly to the investigation of the doctrines of the Reformed Church. This was done at the earnest request of his brother, who had become a Huguenot. His conversion was owing to the perusal of several religious books on the subject, procured for him while a prisoner of war at Milan. The Admiral was not slow in following D’Andelot’s example, and he became an ardent proselyte, although the fear lest the step should prove disadvantageous to his family prevented him from making an open profession at first. But Gaspard de Coligny was not a man for half-measures, and ere long he stood forth as a staunch champion of the Huguenot party, only second in importance to the Prince de Condé. He spent large sums of money in establishing reformed colonies in Florida and Brazil (neither of which were long-lived), and he memorialised the King to allow the Huguenots freedom of worship, and to grant them exemption from many persecutions. An edict was passed which seemed favourable to this oppressed people, but it was not of long duration. The murder of a Huguenot by one of the Guise faction again lit the flame, and the war was resumed. At the first call to arms, Coligny hastened to join the Prince de Condé, then Generalissimo of the Huguenot army, and the two friends took the field together, against the Duke of Guise.

For some time fortune smiled first on one, and then on the other side of the opponents, until the battle of Dreux, where the Duke of Guise was victorious and marched off in triumph to Orleans. But his days were numbered. At the moment of giving orders for storming the town, a shot fired by Poltrot de Mery, a Huguenot enthusiast, struck him down in his tent, mortally wounded. There were not found wanting some who dared accuse the noble Coligny of being the instigator of this deed; but few of either party gave credence to so 98foul a calumny, although the Guise faction made it a plea for hunting their enemy even to the death.

Another religious truce, and Coligny once more disbanded his soldiers, and returned to his beloved Châtillon. Another outbreak, when the Huguenots, confirmed in the opinion that the Queen-Mother, Catherine of Medicis, was their deadly enemy, formed a project to possess themselves of the person of the young King, which failed. In the meantime the wily Catherine ‘babbled of peace,’ and strove by every means in her power to allure Condé and Coligny to Paris—an invitation they wisely refused. The Huguenots had acquired a valuable ally in the person of Jeanne d’Albret, Queen of Navarre, sole daughter and heir of the late King, and widow of Antoine de Bourbon, Duc de Vendôme. This Princess, called when a child ‘La Mignonne des Rois,’ from the tender love which her father and her uncle (Francis I.) both bore her, was remarkable for her courage, her judgment, and her devotion to the tenets of the Reformed Church. She had arrived from the Pyrenees with a large escort and a considerable sum, (realised by the sale of her jewels,) to join the Huguenot camp, and swell its treasure. She was accompanied by her son Henry, Prince de Béarn, (afterwards Henry IV.,) about fourteen years of age, who pleaded earnestly, though vainly, to be allowed then and there to flesh his maiden sword. A terrible blow awaited the Huguenots in the death of their leader, the great Condé, who was slain at the battle of Jarnac, in 1655. Jeanne d’Albret did all in her power to raise their drooping spirits, and entering the camp in person, with her son on one side, and the young Prince de Condé on the other,—‘My friends,’ she said, ‘here are two new chiefs with whom God has provided you, two orphans I intrust to your care.’

Coligny, indeed, acted the part of a second father to the young Prince de Béarn, who studied the art of war under this great master, and did him early honour, for at a time when 99Coligny was invalided, the young warrior took the command of the army and greatly distinguished himself. Time passed on; the Queen, Catherine, having matured a terrible plan for the ruin of the Huguenots, set about bringing it to bear. She negotiated a marriage between Henry, then heir to the throne of Navarre, and the Princess Margaret, sister to the King of France. The hitherto prudent Jeanne d’Albret fell into the snare, and repaired to Paris with her betrothed son, in order to consummate a union that promised so many advantages for all parties concerned. Her example was followed by Coligny, whose reception at Court was as flattering as the wily Italian thought prudent. The young King, well tutored, assured the Admiral by his mother it was the happiest day of his life, and offered him as a bait a high command in Flanders. The Huguenots flocked to the capital in numbers, and there were only a comparative few, who still harboured any suspicion. To the friendly warnings he received, Coligny replied, ‘I am resigned, it shall all be as God pleases.’

One of his own household, after striving in vain to persuade his master to seek safety at Châtillon, or at least to be allowed, himself, to leave Paris, was asked what he feared. ‘Ils vous font trop de caresses,’ was the wise reply.

The preparations for the marriage were not concluded ere the sudden death of his beloved mother overwhelmed the fiancé with deep sorrow. But he was allowed no time to indulge his natural grief, for the nuptials were hastened.

There were rumours of poison, but the matter was hushed; the next incident that was calculated to alarm the Huguenots was the attempted assassination of the Admiral. A miscreant, supposed to be a creature of the Duchess of Nemours, (widow of the Duke of Guise, who died at Orleans,) fired a shot from an arquebuse, as Coligny was passing a window, and wounded him in the right hand and left arm.

100But the time had not yet arrived. The King hastened to the Admiral’s house, Rue de Béthisy, now Rue des Fossés, to inquire, to sympathise, and to condole, promising that the assassin should be brought to justice. Whether De Coligny’s eyes were opened at last or not, it was now too late.

On the night of the Feast of St. Bartholomew, the Duke of Guise, at the head of a body of men, forced the door of Coligny’s house, and killed the guard, while a Bohemian, by name Behme, rushed up to the Admiral’s bedchamber. Awaked by the noise, the man who had braved danger in almost every form, opened the door, and stood face to face with the intruder. Being asked if he were the Sire de Coligny, he replied in the affirmative, and then added, ‘Jeune homme, respectez mes cheveux blancs.’ The miscreant’s only answer was by a sword-thrust on the head, then seizing his victim by the heels, he dragged him to the window, and flung him headlong into the court below, at the feet of the Duke of Guise. This brutal man kicked his expiring enemy several times, and then delivered him up to the mob, who tore him to pieces. The body was gibbeted at Montfaucon, and the King went to look at it, saying, with the Emperor Vitellius, ‘that a dead enemy is not a horrible sight, and does not smell bad.’ The Admiral’s faithful servants carried off the corpse at great personal risk, and buried it at Châtillon, but it was afterwards transported to Maupertuis, whose proprietor caused a grand monument to be erected. Thus died this brave and noble man, after a life full of vicissitude, leaving behind him a name dear to all lovers of human greatness and goodness, whatever their creed or nation.

As a general he was not reckoned successful, yet so energetic and skilful at ‘reparation,’ that De Coligny was considered more dangerous after defeat ‘than his enemies after victory.’

Although a staunch disciplinarian, he was much beloved 101by his soldiery on account of his benevolence and consideration. He spoke and wrote well, and was the author of several works, some of which are still extant.

Gaspard de Coligny was twice married—first to Charlotte de Laval, daughter of Guy, fifteenth of that name, Comte de Laval, by Antoinette de Daillon, by whom he had several sons and daughters. The circumstances attending his second marriage are of so remarkable and romantic a nature that we cannot pass them over in silence. Jacqueline de Montbel was the daughter and sole heir of a noble and wealthy Savoyard, the Comte d’Entremonts, and widow of Claude de Bastarnai, Comte de Bonchage. She was moreover a zealous Huguenot, and the reputation of Coligny, as the champion of that persecuted party, and the fame of his valour and piety, had so inflamed the fancy of the beautiful Savoyarde, that even before they had ever met, she conceived an unconquerable passion for the far-famed hero. The Duke of Savoy was very much averse to the marriage, probably wishing to retain the lady and her wealth within the precincts of his own dominions. He therefore caused her to be watched, but woman’s wit eluded his vigilance; the Comtesse Jacqueline escaped to La Rochelle, and bestowed her hand on the man she had chosen from the world beside. The Duke of Savoy, enraged at her disobedience, seized on the lady’s estates.

About the same time Louise, Coligny’s daughter by his first wife, was united to M. de Téligny, ‘un simple gentilhomme, de la compagnie de l’Amiral de Châtillon.’ He was much beloved by his father-in-law, whose fate he shared, being also murdered on the day of St. Bartholomew; Louise survived, to become the wife of William of Nassau, Prince of Orange.

There is a curious historical parallel between more than one circumstance in the lives of these two heroes, both heads of the Huguenot party, both beloved, from their reputation 102alone, by noble and beautiful women, and both victims of a cruel murder. By De Coligny, Jacqueline had a posthumous daughter named Beatrice; we cannot close this brief notice without inserting a translation of the characteristic epitaph which was written in Latin:—

‘Ci gissent les os de Gaspard de Coligny, Grand Amiral de France, Seigneur de Châtillon, son âme est dans le sein de Celui pour lequel il combattit avec tant de constance.’

No. 49.

ROBERT DEVEREUX, EARL OF ESSEX.

BORN 1567, EXECUTED 1601.

Full length. White dress. Embroidered vest. George, Ribbon, and Garter. Left hand resting on the pommel of his sword; right hand holding a cane.

THE eldest son of Walter, first Earl of Essex of the Devereux family, by Lettice, daughter of Sir Francis Knollys, Knight. He succeeded to the title and estates before he had reached his ninth year. But his father’s solicitude had provided him with worthy guardians; Lords Burghley and Sussex, and Dr. Waterhouse, of whom, in his last moments, Walter, Lord Essex, took leave in these terms—‘Farewell, Ned; thou art the friendliest and faithfullest gentleman that ever I knew;’ and well did Waterhouse fulfil the trust imposed on him by his dying friend, he took the direction of the minor’s affairs, which he managed with great ability, and watched over the boy himself, with paternal care.

In 1577 young Essex went to Cambridge, where he bore an excellent character, and gained the reputation of ‘an 103elegant scholar,’ while his refined and genial manners made him generally popular. He remained at the University till 1581, when he retired to his country house in Pembrokeshire, and seemed to have ‘become enamoured of a rural life.’ In 1584, on his first presentation at Court, he found his stepfather, the Earl of Leicester, reigning supreme, with whom he was in no way inclined to stand on friendly relations. The sudden death of Essex’s father, and the indecent haste of his mother’s marriage with Robert Dudley, were too vivid in his remembrance. But the royal ægis had been thrown over the pair, and the matter had been hushed up. Lord Leicester strove by every means in his power to propitiate his wife’s son, and the young man was not proof against the professions of affection, or the prospects of advancement. At least so it would seem, for in the following year the two Earls went together to the Low Countries, Leicester as Captain-General, and Essex (though not more than eighteen at the time) as General of the Horse. Here the latter was greatly commended for his valour, more especially at the battle of Zutphen.

On his return to England he was made Master of the Horse, and not only intrusted with a high command in the army, at the time of the threatened Spanish invasion, but invested with the Order of the Garter—a proceeding which excited no little jealousy. Lord Leicester dying in the same year, the post of first favourite became vacant, and to that dangerous elevation was the new knight elected without loss of time; and now began afresh the disgraceful farce which Elizabeth Tudor had already enacted with Leicester, and in a minor degree with Sir Philip Sidney, and others. Alas! this time the curtain was to fall on a tragedy. The Queen’s coquetries, her advances and retreats, her attacks on the citadel of the handsome and accomplished courtier’s heart, are part of history, and need not be detailed here. Notwithstanding 104the honours she heaped upon him, his eager spirit was often ‘vexed past patience,’ even in these early days.

In 1589 he absented himself without leave from Court, even as Sir Philip Sidney had done before him, and sailed with Sir Francis Drake on his expedition to Portugal. Elizabeth ordered him to return in a most peremptory letter written with her own hand; but when he did so, she received him with open arms, keeping up for some time a skirmish of lover’s quarrels. At length her indignation was seriously aroused on learning the old story, that her favourite had married without her permission.

She called it a mésalliance, a word that could scarcely apply in the case of the daughter of Sir Francis Walsingham, and the widow of Sir Philip Sidney.

In 1591 he commanded troops sent to the assistance of Henry IV. of France, and on his return was made a Privy Councillor; but jealousy was rife, plots were hatching against him, and the train was laid which was to be fired some years later.

He was appointed to the joint command of the fleet in the expedition against Spain, with Admiral Howard, and on their return, the marked difference between the manner in which the Ministers received Essex and his coadjutor was most distasteful to the former. Howard was treated with honour and consideration, while Essex was exposed to blame and mortification. He now retired to the country in disgust, and would not even attend Parliament till the question arose of a proposed treaty with Spain, when he hastened up to London to be present at a Council, and to advocate war, which he did in such vehement and passionate terms that his quondam guardian, Lord Burghley, rose from the table, and drawing a prayer-book from his pocket, pointed to a passage in the Psalms which proved too prophetic—

‘The bloodthirsty and deceitful man shall not live out half his days.’

105Burghley, who died soon after, was indeed a tried and trusty friend, ever ready to defend him against all his enemies, even the worst of all, Essex’s own self. Peace was concluded, however, and Robert Devereux added to his general unpopularity, while he angered the Queen, by rushing into print on the occasion, and that in most unmeasured terms. Not long afterwards, occurred the well-known scene at the Council, where was a hot discussion relative to the choice of a Governor for Ireland, and Lord Essex’s language was so intemperate that Elizabeth in a rage rose from her seat and struck him on the cheek. Stung to the quick, he half drew his sword, and swearing he would not endure such treatment, left the royal presence in a fury, and once more hurried off to his country house, whence it required much persuasion to induce him to return to his allegiance. The ill-fated man did not realise (after he had made a species of proud apology) how far he was playing into his enemies’ hand, by accepting the command now given him, to put down a rebellious outbreak in Ireland. The complete failure of this expedition is well known. Essex incurred the unmitigated censure of the Government, and of the Queen herself.

His mind was at this time in a very wretched and unsettled state, and on the receipt of a letter from Elizabeth full of reproaches, he left Ireland, and drew no breath till he stood suddenly in her presence at Nonsuch Place, coming, he said, to throw himself on her mercy, and implore her to listen to his vindication. After a conference of some duration, she dismissed him with the desire that he should remain in the custody of the Lord Keeper. In this species of honourable imprisonment he continued for some time in suspense, probably relying on Her Majesty’s constancy to pardon him. But there were those who whispered distrust and slander in the royal ear.

106Alas for the proud spirit of Robert Devereux! he was examined for eleven hours before the Privy Council, during most of the time compelled ‘to remain on his knees.’

When released, he once more retired to the country, and then came up to London, where he made his house the centre of the disaffected; and although still professing unshaken loyalty, yet his actions and the companions he drew around him were well calculated to excite the suspicions both of the Queen and of her Ministers. Again summoned before the Council, he refused to appear; and when the Lord Keeper and the Lord Chancellor went to his house to expostulate, he detained them prisoners. A climax to his rashness was the step he took in sallying forth into the city to enlist volunteers, at the head of a large body of armed adherents, and on his return to his house he fortified himself therein. He was proclaimed a traitor, besieged, and taken prisoner on the 8th of February 1601, and on the 19th brought to trial, and condemned to die.

The struggle between anger, tenderness, and compassion in the breast of Elizabeth has been recorded in history, drama, and fiction; and the story of the ring, which will be found in another page, is one of the widest circulated of historical romances. There is little doubt that Elizabeth never recovered the shock of Essex’s death, although her own hand dealt the blow to both.

On the night preceding his execution, the noble prisoner opened his window, and addressing the guards and pages, regretted he had nothing to give them; ‘for I have nothing save what I am going to pay the Queen on the morrow.’ He rose soon after midnight, and prayed with the chaplain, saying, ‘God bless you, as you shall comfort me.’ He dressed himself with care in a black suit, velvet gown, felt hat, and starched ruff. On his road to the scaffold he continued 107instant in prayer. ‘God grant me true penitence, true patience, true humility, and put all worldly thoughts from my mind.’ No one can deny that Robert Devereux made a noble end.

He spoke earnestly to the crowd, asking them to join in prayer with him, repeated the Lord’s Prayer with great fervour, desired forgiveness of God and of the Queen, ‘whom he had never intended to harm,’ and answered the executioner with gentle courtesy, who kneeling, asked his forgiveness. ‘Thou art but the minister of justice,’ said Essex; then taking off his velvet gown and doublet, he continued to pray till the cruel blow silenced that noble voice for ever. He was deeply mourned by many. ‘My Lady of Essex,’ says a contemporary writer (she had made strenuous efforts to save him), ‘is a most sorrowful creature, she wears black of the meanest price, and will receive no comfort.’

She loved him dearly, and was his chosen companion in the quieter moments of his life, sharing and lightening his literary studies and labour. They had an only son, Robert, the last Devereux who bore the title of Essex, and two daughters—Frances, married to William, Marquis of Hertford, afterwards Duke of Somerset; and Dorothy, married, first, to Sir Henry Shirley of Stanton Harold, county Leicester, and secondly, to William Stafford of Blatherwyck, county North Hants.

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No. 50.

GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS, KING OF SWEDEN.

BORN 1594, KILLED IN ACTION 1632.

Full length. Drab leather coat, grey and gold embroidered sleeves, and trunk hose. High drab boots. Helmet with grey and drab feathers on the table beside him.

THE son of Charles IX., King of Sweden, by Christina of Holstein, and grandson of the great Gustavus Vasa. He ascended the throne when only fifteen, and at that early age showed great capacity for government, and discrimination in the choice of his ministers. But his education and tastes led him to a military career; he engaged in wars with Denmark, Muscovy, and Poland with wonderful success, and he then entered into an alliance with the Protestant powers of Germany against the Emperor of Austria, and was the hero of the Thirty Years’ War, the friend and comrade-in-arms of all those brave spirits whose names live for ever in the pages of Schiller, and the memory of all lovers of religion and valour.

After a series of brilliant campaigns, where he appeared to bear a charmed life, Gustavus Adolphus fell at the battle of Lützen. It was said of him, ‘He died with the sword in his hand, the word of command on his tongue, and the victory in his anticipation.’

When surrounded by enemies, his page tried to hide the rank of his royal master, but the hero exclaimed, ‘I am the King of Sweden, and I seal with my blood the Protestant faith and the liberties of Germany.’ Then he called on the God he had served so well, and with the name of his beloved 109Queen on his lips he expired. The body was instantly stripped, for every one was anxious to possess some relic of Gustavus Adolphus; but his noble and commanding form, though divested of all the trappings of royalty, caused it to be recognised amid the heaps of less eminent slain.

In appearance the King of Sweden was fair, his eyes were light blue, but most expressive, his features aquiline, his complexion florid. All his portraits resemble each other so nearly that we cannot but feel familiar with the personal aspect of this great and good man. He was idolised by his friends, subjects, and comrades. His death seems to have stricken down the unfortunate King of Bohemia, who loved him dearly, and on all the Protestant princes it fell like a thunderbolt. He cultivated the arts and sciences, and improved the social position of Sweden, although so often absent on foreign campaigns. By his beloved and beautiful wife, Maria Elenora, Princess of Brandenburgh, Gustavus left an only daughter, the famous Christina, who succeeded her father on the throne of Sweden; but after reigning about twenty years she abdicated.

No. 51.

VISCOUNTESS TORRINGTON.

Blue mantle trimmed with fur.

LADY Lucy Boyle, only daughter of John Earl of Cork and Orrery, by Margaret, daughter and sole heir of John Hamilton of Caledon, county Tyrone, Ireland, and wife of George, fourth Viscount Torrington.

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No. 52.

LOUISA CARTERET, VISCOUNTESS WEYMOUTH.

THE SECOND WIFE OF THE SECOND VISCOUNT WEYMOUTH.

In the Coronation robes of a Peeress.

No. 53.

THOMAS, SECOND VISCOUNT WEYMOUTH.

By Sir Godfrey Kneller.

Full length. In a Peer’s Parliamentary robes.

No. 54.

VISCOUNTESS LANSDOWNE.

By Sir Godfrey Kneller.

In the Coronation robes of a Peeress.

SHE was the daughter of the Earl of Jersey, by Barbara, daughter of Chiffinch, the closet-keeper and close confidant of Charles II., who has gained no enviable fame from the sketch which Sir Walter Scott has drawn of him in Peveril of the Peak. She married first, Thomas Thynne, Esq., of Old Windsor, who died, leaving her with child. Her son succeeded to the title of Weymouth. Lady Mary Thynne afterwards married Lord Lansdowne, by whom she had four daughters.

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No. 55.

WILLIAM, EARL, AFTERWARDS MARQUIS, OF

HERTFORD AND DUKE OF SOMERSET.

Old Stone. After Vandyck.

DIED 1660.

In armour. Holding a truncheon.

HE was the eldest surviving son of Lord Beauchamp (consequently great-grandson to Protector Somerset), by Honora, daughter of Sir Richard Rogers of Bryanston, county Dorset.

He was educated at Magdalen College, Oxford, at the time that James I. and his Queen were keeping Court at Woodstock. Amongst the fairest and noblest of Her Majesty’s ladies, was the King’s own cousin, the Lady Arabella Stuart. As soon as she and William Seymour met, they loved, and the young lady, suspecting that her royal kinsman would be averse to their union, impressed on her lover the importance of secrecy.

Their attachment was discovered, and Arabella Stuart and William Seymour were summoned before the Privy Council, and reprimanded in no moderate terms, but the affection had taken so deep a root, that even the tyrannical decrees of James could not prevent the consummation of the marriage. As we have told at length in the notice of Arabella Stuart’s life, they were privately united, for which crime they were both imprisoned, and both in the course of time made their escape. Seymour was far more fortunate than his wife, and it was supposed that the authorities were not unwilling that he 112should regain his liberty. Disguised, in a black peruke, and tawny suit, he followed a cart out of the courtyard of the Tower, which had brought in firewood, and found a faithful friend at the iron gate, in whose company he travelled with all speed to the sea-coast, where it had been arranged he should meet Arabella.

Foiled in this hope, he made his way to Ostend, and resided some time in Flanders, after the death of his wife, until that of his grandfather, when he succeeded to the titles of Lord Beauchamp and Earl of Hertford. He then returned to England, and went to reside on his estates, and in the society of a few chosen friends, passed his time in study, and the improvement of the fortune, which had been sadly diminished, at the time of the attainder of Protector Somerset.

For some time after the accession of Charles I., Lord Hertford voted on the popular side, but he became disgusted with their ultra views, and with the injustice of the proceedings at the trial of Lord Strafford, although that nobleman was no personal friend of his. As was the case with many leading men of the time, Hertford now seceded from the party he had hitherto upheld, and devoted his services, his fortune, and his influence to the Royal cause.

In his new career he displayed an energy and activity of which he had hitherto appeared incapable. He proved his zeal, moreover, by accepting the post of Governor to the Prince of Wales, for which Clarendon tells us he was not fitted, neither did he incline to the duties. But so conscientious was he in their discharge, that he boldly withstood Parliament in a matter where the Prince of Wales’s interests were involved.

About this time he succeeded to the Marquisate of Hertford. In 1643 he was named Lieutenant-General Commandant of the western counties, with power to raise troops 113at his discretion for the King’s service. He was not very successful at first, but was afterwards joined by the Princes Maurice and Rupert, who served under him, and was present at the victories of Lansdowne and Roundway. At the taking of Weymouth a dispute arose between him and Rupert as to the nomination of a Governor to that town. Hertford waived his claim in submission to the King’s wish, but, throwing up his military command, went to reside with Charles at Oxford, who gave him a place in the household, and he was elected Chancellor of the University. He now served the King in a civil capacity, taking part in the negotiations between his Majesty and the Parliament, and that with so much rectitude and moderation as to procure him the respect of both parties. His generosity kept pace with his loyalty; his coffers were open to his King; and during the time of Charles II.’s exile, Hertford allowed him an annual income, and he was one of the few mourners permitted to pay their last tribute to their martyred King by attending his funeral. At the Restoration he met Charles at Dover, who invested him with the Garter to which he had been named some years before; Cromwell had deprived him of the Chancellorship of Oxford, which he now resumed, and the King, in the most flattering manner, restored to him the Dukedom of Somerset, forfeited by the Protector, and after expressing his gratitude for the loyalty which Lord Hertford had evinced to his father and himself, hoped ‘no man would envy the honours thus bestowed,’ observing ‘that it was no more than a good master should do for such a servant.’

The Duke did not survive this mark of royal favour very long. He died in 1660, and was buried at St. Bedwin in Wales.

His second wife was the Lady Frances Devereux, daughter of Robert, the second Earl of Essex, and sister and co-heir of Robert, the third Earl, and Parliamentary General.

114Of his five sons, three died unmarried, and his four daughters all married Peers of the realm.

Lord Clarendon said of him, ‘He was a man of good parts and conversant with books, both Greek and Latin; he loved study better than exercise, and a country better than a public life. By nature he was indolent, and though brave and faithful, he was by no means a good soldier.’

He was succeeded by his grandson and namesake, William Duke of Somerset, who died young.

No. 56.

JOAN HAYWARD, LADY THYNNE.

By Zucchero.

Full length. Black and white embroidered dress. Ruff.

Holding a feather fan.

YOUNGEST daughter of Sir Rowland Hayward, Knight, who was twice Lord Mayor of London. She was co-heir to her mother, Joan Tylsworth, and brought into the Thynne family Cawse Castle, the Manor of Tretton, county Salop, and other lands. She married Sir John Thynne, (the second of that name,) by whom she had Sir Thomas and other children.

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No. 57.

THE LADIES DEVEREUX.

By Zucchero(?).

(According to one Catalogue of an earlier date, ‘Two Ladies, by

Honthorst,’ or as it is spelled, Hunthurst.)

Two sisters dressed alike, in one picture. Half length. Light hair. Red

and gold velvet bodices. White sleeves. Pearl necklaces.

IN all probability, the Lady Frances and the Lady Dorothy Devereux, daughters of Robert, the second Earl of Essex (Queen Elizabeth’s favourite)—the eldest married to the Earl of Hertford, widower of Arabella Stuart, afterwards Duke of Somerset; and the younger to Sir Henry Shirley of Stanton Harold, county Leicester, and secondly, to William Stafford, Esq. of Blatherwyck, county North Hants.

No. 58.

SIR JOHN THYNNE, THE SECOND.

DIED 1604.

Black dress. White collar and sleeves. Right hand resting on hip,

left on pommel of sword.

ELDEST son of Sir John, the builder of Longleat, by Christian, daughter of Sir Richard Gresham. He married Joan, daughter of Sir Rowland Hayward, who brought many estates into the family.

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No. 59.

LADY ARABELLA STUART.

A head. Dress as in large picture on staircase.

No. 60.

GRACE, COUNTESS GRANVILLE.

By Sir Godfrey Kneller.

Full length. In the Coronation robes of a Peeress.

SHE was the daughter of John Granville, first Earl of Bath, by Jane, daughter of Sir Peter Wyche. The Granvilles, or Grenvilles, as they were originally called, were a noble and heroic race; witness the exploits by sea of Sir Richard, immortalised in history and poetry, who lived in the time of Queen Elizabeth, and of the brave Sir Bevil, who perished in arms for King Charles I. at the battle of Lansdowne, he on whose death it was written—

‘Where shall the next famed Grenvil’s ashes stand?

Thy grandsire fills the sea, and thou the land,’

a couplet most characteristic of the high-flown language of the period. Lady Grace was destined to be allied with heroes, for she married Sir George Carteret, afterwards raised to the Peerage as Baron Carteret, in consideration of the services of his father, and his grandfather, the gallant Earl of Sandwich. These two brave men died at Solebay fight in 1682, in an engagement with the Dutch, when Lord Sandwich’s ship held out singly for five hours, at fearful odds with the enemy. After Sir George’s death, his widow was created 117Countess Granville and Baroness Carteret, in her own right, with limitation of her first title to her eldest son; she also succeeded to vast wealth and estates on the death of her nephew, the Earl of Bath.

But both these titles soon became extinct, that of Carteret being renewed in the person of Henry Thynne, son of the second Lord Weymouth by Lady Louisa Carteret, Lady Granville’s granddaughter. The Peerage of Carteret was destined to be short-lived, as it is now again extinct.

No. 61.

EDWARD VILLIERS, FIRST EARL OF JERSEY.

DIED 1711.

Full length. In Peer’s Coronation robes, holding a wand.

THE eldest son of Sir Edward Villiers, by Frances, daughter to the Earl of Suffolk. He accompanied Princess Mary to Holland on her marriage with the Prince of Orange; returned to England with them in 1688, and was appointed Master of the Horse to the Queen, with other marks of royal favour.

In the third year of King William’s reign he was created Viscount Villiers of Dartford and Baron Villiers of the Hoo, both in county Kent. On the Queen’s death he went to the Hague as Plenipotentiary; in 1697 was employed in the same capacity for the Treaty of Ryswick, and shortly afterwards Ambassador to the States-General, on which occasion he was created Earl of Jersey. In 1698 he went to Paris as Ambassador-Extraordinary, where he kept up great state. On his return Lord Jersey was made one of the Principal Secretaries 118of State and one of the Lords Justices for the administration of the government, during the King’s absence in Holland. He joined William at the Loo, and held other diplomatic posts, besides being chosen Lord Chamberlain of the Household, an office he continued to hold under Queen Anne until 1704, when he retired from public life. He died in 1711, the day before his intended nomination as Privy Seal, and was buried in St. Michael’s Chapel, Westminster. He married Barbara, daughter to William Chiffinch, by whom he left three sons and a daughter—Mary, wife of Thomas Thynne of Old Windsor, (and mother of the second Viscount Weymouth,) who was afterwards Lady Lansdowne.

No. 62.

THE HONOURABLE LADY SAVILE.

DIED 1662.

Oval. Black dress. Jewels. Ringlets.

ANNE, eldest daughter of the Lord Keeper Coventry, married Sir William Savile of Thornhill, county York, a distinguished officer, enthusiastically devoted to the cause of Charles I.

He had served under his relative the Earl of Arundel against the Scots in 1639, and in 1643 he was appointed by his kinsman William Cavendish, Earl (afterwards Duke) of Shrewsbury (at that time in command of the Royal Forces in the northern counties), Governor of Sheffield. But his services were soon required elsewhere, and Thomas Beaumont was named Governor-Deputy in his absence. Sir William was anxious that his wife should accompany him, but 119she was too near her confinement to be able to follow him in his frequent marches and countermarches.

The separation was for ever. Sir William died early in 1643-44, and in the August of that year the town of Sheffield was besieged by the Roundheads under Major-General Crawford, who sent a summons to Beaumont to surrender. But the garrison, the Governor, and the brave widow of their late commander, were all of one mind. The reply, accompanied with a volley of shot, was to the effect that they refused to parley. Batteries were raised, and artillery kept playing for twenty-four hours without effect.

Crawford then sent for the ‘Queen’s Pocket Pistol,’ a celebrated piece of ordnance, and a culverin, which did sad damage to the walls, already full of cracks.

At length the garrison showed signs of wishing to capitulate, but Lady Savile, whose time of trouble was drawing very near, assured the soldiers she would rather perish than give up the fortress intrusted to them by her gallant husband; even though her state was all the more distressing in consequence of the besiegers refusing admittance into the town of a female attendant, whose services the noble lady so much required. Such is the testimony of a zealous Royalist, Dr. Barwick, Dean of St. Paul’s. But there was no help for it, and the garrison surrendered, having made honourable terms for the lady whose courage had so endeared her to them all:—

‘Lady Savile, with her family, with her own proper goods, shall pass with horses, coaches, and wagons to Thornhill, or elsewhere, with guard befitting her quality, and without any injury to their persons, or plundering of their goods, or otherwise; she, they, or any of them to go, or stay, at their own pleasure, until she or they be in a condition to remove themselves.’

Terms so honourable to both parties seem at variance 120with the spirit of cruelty which could forbid help, but a few hours before; but then the fortress was still unconquered. The day after the surrender Lady Savile gave birth to a son, who became Earl of Halifax.

She married, as her second husband, Sir Thomas Chicheley of Wimpole, Cambridgeshire. Finding herself very ill, ‘this illustrious example of piety towards God and love to her country sent for her constant friend, Dr. Barwick (whose counsel in doubtful, and whose advice in difficult affairs she had often experienced), to make use of his pious ministrations. She resigned her breath easily, dying at Wimpole one year and a half after the Restoration.’

No. 63.

OLD PRINCE OF CONDÉ.

SO called in the Catalogue, but no evidence to say which Prince of Condé, as they none of them lived to be old.

No. 64.

AN ECCLESIASTIC.

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No. 65.

SIR JAMES THYNNE.

By Dobson.

DIED 1670.

Full length. Buff jerkin. Slashed sleeves. Red scarf. Red ribbons at

knees and on shoes.

HE was the eldest surviving son of Sir Thomas Thynne, by his first wife, the daughter of Lord Audley. He married the Lady Isabella Rich, daughter of the Earl of Holland. An ill-starred union; for even before her marriage the lady bore a sorry reputation, and her subsequent conduct was such, that in 1653 she was legally separated from her husband, having doubtless tried his forbearance too far.

Sir James was a staunch Royalist, and we are told his house of Longleat was plundered by a party of Roundheads in 1643, under the command of Sir Edward Hungerford and Colonel Slade.

The marauders seemed to have turned their attention especially to the contents of the stables and harness-room. Handsome saddles, caparisons, plumes, bits, pleased the fancy of the two officers, while their men made free with the contents of the wardrobes, cellars, larders, and what not. In 1663 Charles II. and his Queen visited Sir James at Longleat.

Dying without children at Richmond, in Surrey, in 1670, he was succeeded by his nephew.

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No. 66.

SIR THOMAS THYNNE.

By Mytens.

DIED 1639.

Full length. Black and gold dress. Close-fitting vest. Lace collar.

Scarlet stockings. Shoes with rosette.

HE was the eldest son of Sir John (and the grandson of Sir John the builder) of Longleat, by Joan Hayward. He was twice married—first to a daughter of Lord Audley, and secondly to a daughter of Lord Howard of Bindon. He had children by both wives, and was succeeded by his eldest surviving son, James.

No. 67.

VIDÂME DE CHARTRES.

By Zucchero.

White close-fitting vest. Trimmed beard and moustaches. Inscription,

‘Ætatis suæ 33, año 15.’ An escutcheon in the corner.

MESSIRE Prejamn de la Fin, Vidâme de Chartres, Prince de Chabanois, Baron de Confolant et Pousaujes, Seigneur de la Ferté, et Sire de Gravlie; Capitaine de cinquante hommes d’armes, des ordonnances du Roi très Chretien.

We read in Strype that when peace was concluded between France and England in 1550, and Boulogne ceded to France, a large sum was to be paid to King Edward VI., and several 123of the highest French nobles came over to this country as hostages.

Among many distinguished names, we find that of the Vidâme de Chartres, but we cannot be quite sure whether allusion be made to the subject of this notice or the kinsman, François de Vendôme, from whom he inherited his title and estates. There is mention of him in 1560 as an agent of the Bourbons, sent on a mission to the Connétable de Montmorency, where he is described as a Huguenot of high birth, and akin to the Connétable himself. There was some rumour of a scandal between this nobleman and Queen Catherine de Medicis, for which probably there was no foundation.

In 1567 the Condé party had taken possession of St. Denis, demanding the diminution of taxes and the summoning of the States-General, in consequence of which a royal herald was sent to call upon the chiefs (Condé, the Vidâme de Chartres, and others) to lay down their arms, on pain of being proclaimed rebels.

The King, after much discussion, came to a compromise with Condé, for a time at least, but a decree was passed against Coligny, the Vidâme, and others, of confiscation of property, execution, etc., the latter sentence being carried into effect, but fortunately at that time only in effigy.

In 1569 we hear of him again, for Lord Leicester writes to the Ambassador of the Emperor of Muscovy: ‘The Vidâme de Chartres is come to England, with his wife and familie, on a “snuffe,” having in the last action (a battle near Coignac) proved himselfe neither fishe nor fowle.’

We also find in the Life of Archbishop Grindal, speaking of the same: ‘A great nobleman of France, and of chief account among the Protestants, was here on some business relating to religion, and was favoured much by the friends of religion, but not so much by all at Court. The Bishop of 124London obtained for him the Bishop of Ely’s house in Holborn, where he remained some time.’

He was one of those who, just before the Massacre of St. Bartholomew, strove to persuade Coligny and his son-in-law to leave Paris, but in vain, though the life of the brave Admiral had already been attempted. At this time a colony of Huguenots lived outside the walls of Paris, the Vidâme included, and it had been arranged that on the day of St. Bartholomew the Provost-Marshal should let loose a thousand men to attack that quarter. But by good fortune the murderers stopped by the way to plunder, and never reached their destination. The Huguenot population was aroused by a tumult, and believing it to be a rising of the Guises, they were about to fly to the assistance of the King; so little did they suspect the truth. But the frightful reality was soon forced upon them, the massacre had already begun, and turning away, the chief part fled into the country.

The Vidâme’s escape was almost miraculous, the Duke of Guise had actually followed him into his own house with the intention of murdering him, but the fugitive contrived to elude his pursuer, and to conceal himself until he procured a safeguard from the King. Charles was suspected of having promised it while the Vidâme was still in hiding, with the conviction that he, being thrown off his guard, would return home, and thus fall into the hands of his enemies. But the hunted man was too wary: he stole away, and got safely on shipboard for England.

Immediately on his arrival, he wrote to the Treasurer to admonish him ‘to arouse Queen Elizabeth to a sense of her own danger, to excite her warmly to resent what had passed, and not to be too lenient to the Papists, believing they would become more gentle by a few light words, for he was assured they would become more insolent if too easily dealt with.’

In several letters from Secretary Smith to Lord Burghley, 125both in 1572 and the ensuing year, he mentions frequent interviews which the Vidâme and other noble refugees had with the Queen relating to the interests of the Huguenot party in France.

England, who has never been found wanting in sympathy or hospitality towards the oppressed or exiled of other nations, welcomed the fugitives from the Massacre of St. Bartholomew with more than usual warmth, and the Queen showed some of them great consideration, and especially the Vidâme de Chartres. We once more quote Secretary Smith, who, writing to the English Ambassador, then in France, observes that it did him ‘good to see the princely compassion that was in Her Majestie towards the poor Vidâme, who was escaped by good fortune into England, for whom the Queen had, at his humble and lamentable suit, written to the King of France in his favour, which she bade her Ambassador deliver with as good words as he might, and to require an answer.’ To which the King gives this answer: ‘That as he was glad to gratifie Her Majestie, so he could not grant this earnest request without touch of his honour, to suffer any of his subjects to live in a foreign countrie without a kind of defiance of his sincerity. Yet he could for gratifying Her Majestie be content that the Vidâme should return home and enjoy his livings there, as he could not have occasion to doubt his safety.’ But the exile dared not trust himself to these protestations of a hypocrite.

Queen Elizabeth answered the King, that in the present state of France, his subjects in England did not think it safe to return there. These particulars, though somewhat disjointed, are all we have been able to gather of a man, whose life was most eventful. Neither can we tell if he died in England.

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