'Lævis adhuc, nec dum Vir constituende Marite;
Tuque Uxor Virgo, Virgo futura diu;
Tam Castos Dilatus Hymen colit ipse Pudores,
Nec tantum Cœlis Pinus Adulta placet.
Ne jactet plures Amor hoc ex Fœdere Tædas,
Et ludat Ritus, Pronuba Diva, Tuos
Præcipitata celer diffundat Tempora Currus,
Hanc Matrem facias, Hunc citò, Juno, Virum.
'Hic Fratri Lucem, dedit hic Tibi, Sponsa, Maritum,
O Quantum Mensis Munus Utrumq; juvat!
Quære Mihi Niveos, Puer Officiose, Lapillos
Ut Gemmâ Festum Candidiore notem.
Si tamen has vincant magè Lactea corpora gemmas,
Pulchrior Ipse Suum Signet, et Ipsa Diem.'
He, too, received a Court appointment, and was Preceptor to James II.
and a Chaplain to the King's Army and to the Duke of York. In 1660, he
was made Prebendary of the Twelfth Stall at Westminster, and about the
same time Rector of Wheathampsted, where are some of the family tombs.
But it was not until 1667, when he was between fifty and sixty years
of age, that he obtained the post in connexion with which his name is
most generally known-that of 'Master of the Savoy and Almoner to His
Royal Highness.'
Whilst still a youngster of seventeen, he wrote a tragedy which he
called 'The Conspiracy,' intended for performance at the celebration of
the 'Nuptialls of the Lord Charles Herbert and the Lady Villers.' It
was played at the Blackfriars Theatre in 1638, and was received with
great applause--obtaining high praise from 'rare Ben Jonson' himself.
One critic, indeed, objected that the sentiments expressed by the hero
of the piece, Cleander, were far beyond his age--seventeen--until he
was reminded that that was the age of the author himself. Here is a
specimen of the youthful writer's powers:
'(_The Rightful Heir to the Crown kept from his inheritance: an angel
sings to him sleeping._)
'SONG.
'While Morpheus thus does gently lay
His powerful charge upon each part,
Making thy spirits ev'n obey
The silver charms of his dull art;
'I, thy Good Angel, from thy side--
As smoke doth from the altar rise,
Making no noise as it doth glide,--
Will leave thee in this soft surprise;
'And from the clouds will fetch thee down
A holy vision, to express
Thy right unto an earthly crown;
No power can make this kingdom less.
'But gently, gently, lest I bring
A start in sleep by sudden flight,
Playing aloof, and hovering,
Till I am lost unto the sight.
'This is a motion still and soft,
So free from noise and cry
That Jove himself, who hears a thought,
Knows not when we pass by.'
The play appears to have been printed without the writer's consent,
in 1638, in an imperfect form; but it was not until fifteen years
afterwards that he published an amended copy of it under the title of
'Pallantus and Eudora.' He also wrote another play, 'The Tyrant King of
Crete,' which was never acted. Many of his sermons too were printed;
one of them, Pepys--who seems to have gone almost everywhere, and heard
almost everything--listened to in 1663: 'At Chapel I had room in the
Privy Seale pewe with other gentlemen;' but he has left no record of
the impression produced. Probably, therefore, it was not very deep or
lasting; and, in fact, the sermons have no special excellence: yet
there is something true and pathetic in this saying: 'Misery lays
stronger bonds of love than Nature; and they are more than one, whom
the same _misfortune_ joined together, than to whom the same womb gave
life.'
The Rev. W. J. Loftie, in his 'History of the Savoy,' tells us that
Henry Killigrew succeeded Sheldon as Master, and that he was no more
careful and economic in the management of the decaying establishment
than was his predecessor; yet King William III.'s Commissioners tell a
somewhat different story, and describe him as 'a man of generous and
public spirit, as his expenses in the Chapel of the said Hospital, and
of King Henry VII. at Westminster, who was the founder of the said
Hospital, do sufficiently testify.'
In the Savoy itself Henry Killigrew lived, paying £1 a year for his
lodgings. No pleasant neighbourhood was that 'Sanctuary'[89] which
Macaulay thus describes:
'The Savoy was another place of the same kind as Whitefriars; smaller
indeed, and less renowned, but inhabited by a not less lawless
population. An unfortunate tailor, who ventured to go thither for the
purpose of demanding payment for a debt, was set upon by the whole
mob of cheats, ruffians, and courtezans. He offered to give a full
discharge to his debtor, and a treat to the rabble, but in vain.
He had violated their "franchises," and this crime was not to be
pardoned. He was knocked down, stripped, tarred, and feathered. A rope
was tied round his waist. He was dragged naked up and down the street
amidst yells of "A bailiff! a bailiff!" Finally he was compelled to
kneel down, and curse his father and mother--and then "to limp home
without a rag upon him."'
The Master of the Savoy married twice, it is said; but I have failed
to trace the maiden name of either of his wives. It would have been
interesting to know who the first was, especially; for she was the
mother of the fairest and brightest of all the Killigrews--Mistress
Anne. The second wife continued to live in the Savoy after her
husband's death, which took place the 14th March, 1699.
He had two sons and two daughters. The sons, both of whom were
sailors, were Henry and James; and the daughters, Elizabeth and the
incomparable ANNE. Clutterbuck, in his 'History of Hertfordshire,'
says that Elizabeth married Dr. J. Lambe, Dean of Ely, who succeeded
to the Rectory of Wheathampstead; and that they had five sons and five
daughters. Her epitaph records that she was 'a most intirely beloved
wife,' and that 'to menc̄on some of her virtues only (though very
great ones) would lessen her character, who was a most eminent example
of all those virtues whatsoever that adorn her sex.'
Henry, the elder son, appears to have been, on the whole, a successful
man in his profession; he entered the navy in 1666, and for the next
twenty years sailed in almost as many different ships; he was made
Vice-Admiral of the Blue in 1689, and finally was created a Lord of
the Admiralty under King William III. He died at his seat at St.
Albans (for which place he had been elected M.P.) on the 9th November,
1712, eighteen years after his retirement from the Admiralty. Many MS.
letters by him are in the Bodleian Library, and at All Souls' College,
Oxford. In the British Museum is preserved a broadside entitled--
'GOOD NEWS FROM THE ENGLISH FLEET:
being an Account of a great and bloody Engagement which happened
yesterday between Their Majesties' Fleet commanded by Admiral
Killigrew, and the French Fleet near the Beachy--with a particular
account of the Taking Six of their Ships, and Sinking Three.'
It was printed 17th September, 1690; on which date the final result was
not known, but enough had been learnt to describe the engagement as a
victory; the battle was fought three leagues off the shore, and lasted
from 10 a.m. till night.
Macaulay does not refer to this exploit; but, writing of the year 1693,
he tells us that 'Killigrew and Delaval _were Tories_, and that the
Whigs carried a vote of censure upon the Government in consequence
of the late naval miscarriages, but failed to fix it on Killigrew
and Delaval themselves, the Admirals.' The facts seem to have been
that Killigrew and Delaval were appointed to convoy seventy ships
of the line and thirty smaller vessels--the richly-freighted Smyrna
fleet--past Brest to the Mediterranean; Rooke was to take them on
afterwards. But the French fleet lay in wait for them near Gibraltar,
and Rooke fell into the trap, with dire results. Macaulay thinks that
Killigrew and Delaval ought to have been sharper, and not to have
returned to England so soon. On hearing of the news in England, many
of the merchants went away from the Royal Exchange 'pale as death.'
There is, however, in the British Museum a rare ballad which somewhat
conflicts with Macaulay's views, and I am tempted to refer to it,
without being able to reconcile the discrepancy. It is entitled--
'The Seamen's Victory, or _Admiral Killigrew's_ glorious conquest over
the French Fleet, in the Streights, as they were coming from Thoulon
towards Brest. With the manner of Taking Three of their French Men of
War, and sinking Two more; although the French Admiral vainly boasted
he would recover Brest or Paradice, yet he shamefully run from the
English Fleet. (_To the Tune of The Spinning Wheel._)'
The ballad is illustrated with rough wood-cuts, three of which
represent ships, and a fourth, it is to be presumed, the Admiral
himself. It begins thus:
'Here's joyfull news came late from Sea,
'Tis of a gallant Victory,
Which o'er the French we did obtain,
Upon the throbbing Ocean Main.
As soon as e'er they found our Rage,
The Rogues was glad to disengage.'
The defeat of the attempt made by the Toulon fleet to join that at
Brest is then described, in the same rude sort of lines eminently
adapted for the roystering choristers who frequent seaside taverns; and
the poet thus continues:
'Now while we did maintain the Fight,
Two French Ships there we sunk down right,
And likewise have we taken Three,
This Crown'd our Work with Victory;
The noble, valiant KILLEGREW,
After the rest do's still pursue.'