dropsy in the sixty-ninth year of her age, 1709. She left a considerate
will, and gave strict orders concerning her funeral, desiring to be
buried at the parish church. Her pall was borne by six Peers of the
realm. Barbara’s three sons were the Duke of Cleveland and Southampton,
the Duke of Grafton, and the Duke of Northumberland; the first and last
titles became extinct. Her daughters were the Countess of Sussex, the
Countess of Lichfield, “a blameless beauty,” and Lady Barbara Fitzroy,
(disowned by the King, and supposed to be the daughter of John Churchill,
afterwards Duke of Marlborough), who took the veil, and died as Prioress
of a convent in France. Bishop Burnet, in speaking of Barbara, Duchess
of Cleveland, says: “She was a woman of great beauty, vicious, ravenous,
foolish, and imperious.” Another contemporary says: “She was a great
contradiction, unboundedly lavish, yet sordidly covetous.”
Portrait galleries teem with likenesses of Barbara, at different ages,
in different costumes, and “moods.” In the celebrated “Bellona” of the
Hampton Court Beauties we detect the “arrogant virago” who carried all
before her: but in the portrait in question, her beauty is far more
captivating from the pensive and languid expression, which softens her
brilliant eyes, and smooths the corners of her finely cut but usually
severe lips. No wonder, Lord Sandwich was delighted with his present.
Pepys does not specify the donor, whether the lady, or the artist; but he
says: “My Lady Sandwich showed me, and Mistress Pepys, Lady Castlemaine’s
picture, at the new house in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, finely done, and given
my Lord;” and in another page, he calls it “that most blessed picture.”
_General Ireton_:
BY DOBSON.
THREE-QUARTER LENGTH.
(Long Hair. Red Doublet. A Cuirass and Sash. Buff Gloves. Right
Hand holding the Sash. Left on his Hip.)
Born, 1611. Died, 1651. Son of Gervase Ireton, Esq., of Attenborough, Co.
Notts. Was a gentleman-commoner, at Trinity College, Oxford. Destined for
the bar; but the Civil War breaking out, he obtained a commission in the
Parliamentary Army. In 1645 he married at Norton, near Oxford, Bridget,
the eldest daughter of Oliver Cromwell, by whom he had one son, and
four daughters. In 1649 he was appointed one of the King’s judges, and
signed the warrant for his execution. He was a man of undoubted courage,
and distinguished himself in numerous engagements, more especially at
the battle of Naseby. His views were violently republican, but his
integrity stern and uncompromising; no mercenary motives influenced
him. Eleven years the junior of Cromwell, and his son-in-law, he dared
to differ with him, and to expostulate boldly when he disapproved of
the Protector’s conduct. After the battle of Worcester he was offered
pecuniary remuneration, with several other members of the Parliamentary
Army, but he was disinterested enough to refuse £20,000, and to tell the
government roundly, he should be more content to see them paying off the
debts they had incurred, than thus disposing of the public money. It was
thought that his appointment as Lord Deputy in Ireland, was intended by
the Protector to remove him from all possibility of interference with his
own proceedings; and there seems little doubt that Ireton, shortly before
his death, had contemplated crossing the Channel to speak face to face
with his father-in-law, in reference to many measures he disapproved. But
he was suddenly seized, and carried off by the Plague, during the siege
of Limerick in 1651.
Ireton was held in great esteem by his party and his comrades, and it was
said of him that he grafted the soldier on the lawyer, and the statesman
on the saint. Cromwell was much affected at his death, and caused the
body to be brought over, and deposited with great pomp in Westminster
Abbey, in Henry VII.’s Chapel. At the Restoration however, the body was
dug up, and hung upon a gibbet at Tyburn.
_Oliver Cromwell, Lord Protector of England_:
BY WALKER.
HALF-LENGTH: OVAL.
(In Armour, with a Plain Falling Collar.)
Born, 1599. Died, 1658—The only surviving son of Robert Cromwell, by
Elizabeth Stewart: born in Huntingdon, named after his uncle, Sir Oliver
Cromwell, of Hinchingbrook, where he passed many of his earlier days.
Numerous stories are told, (some ridiculed, some generally believed,)
of Oliver’s infancy, and boyhood. It is said that on one occasion he
was snatched from his cradle by a monkey, who jumping out of the window,
scampered over the roof of Hinchingbrook, to the consternation of the
family, who stood watching the beast, with great anxiety. Whether or not
the monkey felt, that he bore in his arms the future ruler of England,
the chronicler does not affirm, but he goes on to relate, that the fears
of the relatives were soon appeased by seeing the baby safely restored
to his cradle, by the conscientious ape! Another incident connected with
Hinchingbrook was more currently believed, viz., that Charles I., when a
boy, visited Sir Oliver, on his road from Scotland to London. The good
knight sent for his nephew to help him entertain the Prince, which he did
by disputing violently with his Royal Highness: a quarrel ensued, and
Oliver, being the strongest of the two, caused Charles’s blood to flow,
an ominous presage of after times. We do not know how Sir Oliver visited
his nephew’s outbreak, but he was a staunch cavalier, and supported the
Royalists till his death.
Oliver, when a school-boy, was wilful, and wayward, and fond of wild and
sometimes coarse jests. One Christmas night, the revels at Hinchingbrook
were interrupted by some unseemly pranks of his conceiving, which called
down upon him, a sentence from the Master of Misrule that Sir Oliver
ordered into immediate execution, viz., that the young recreant should be
subjected then, and there, to a severe ducking in one of the adjoining
fishponds. When still a school-boy, another anecdote is told of Oliver;
that on awaking from a short sleep, one hot day, he electrified his
schoolfellows with the description of a dream, he had had. How a woman
of gigantic stature had appeared at the side of his bed, and slowly
undrawing the curtains, had announced to him that some day, he would
be the greatest man in England—the word “King” did not however pass
her lips. The young visionary was rewarded for this lie, (as it was
considered) by a severe flogging. A better authenticated story is told
of his rescue from drowning, by one Johnson, a citizen of Huntingdon, of
whom General Cromwell enquired (when in after years, he marched through
his native town, with the army) if he remembered the circumstance:
“Yes,” was the indignant reply, “and I wish to my heart I had let you
drown, rather than to see you in arms, against your King.”
At the age of seventeen, Oliver Cromwell left the Grammar School, at
Huntingdon, and entered Sidney Sussex College, Cambridge. Both as a
school-boy and a collegian he distinguished himself more in athletic
sports, than in application to study, and he appears to have led a wild
irregular life, according to his own admission, for it is difficult
to sift the truth, from the preposterous flattery on the one hand,
and the unqualified abuse on the other, which characterise Cromwell’s
biographers, according to their political opinions. In recording his own
conversion, at the age of twenty years, he says: “Before which time, I
hated holiness, and the Word of God.” His mother sent him to study at
Lincoln’s Inn, “where,” says Carrington, “he associated with those of
the best rank, and quality, and the most ingenious persons, for though
not averse to study and contemplation, he seemed rather addicted to
conversation, and the reading of men’s characters, than to a continual
poring over authors.” On completing his twenty-first year, he married
Elizabeth, daughter of Sir James Bourchier, of Felsted, in Essex, a
kinswoman of Hampden’s, who brought him a modest dowry, which she nobly
relinquished with the additional money he had settled on her for life, to
rescue her husband from pecuniary difficulties in after years; a woman of
irreproachable life, and unobtrusive manners, who tolerated rather than
coveted grandeur, and distinction, an excellent housewife, and a loving
help-mate. The newly married pair fixed their residence in Huntingdon,
where his mother still lived, and where several children were born to
them.
Cromwell now turned his mind to those studies, and pursuits which paved
his way to future greatness. He made his house the refuge for the
“disaffected,” or the “persecuted” Nonconformist Ministers; he encouraged
them in their opposition, prayed, preached, built a chapel for them,
supported them on all occasions, and became so popular, that the chief of
his fellow townsmen offered to return him for the Borough, in the next
Parliament that was summoned. In 1625 he failed—in 1628 he was returned
as member for Huntingdon, when his cousin Hampden also took his seat.
Dr. South describes Oliver’s appearance on this occasion, in a manner
that caused the Merry Monarch to observe: “Oddsfish! that chaplain must
be a Bishop; put me in mind of him, next vacancy.” “Who that beheld such
a bankrupt, beggarly fellow, as Cromwell, first entering the Parliament
House, with a torn, thread-bare coat, and greasy hat (perhaps neither of
them paid for) would have believed that in a few years.” ... &c.?
After the dissolution of this Parliament, where Hampden, Cromwell, and
Pym bore bold testimony to their political, and religious faith, Oliver
returned to Huntingdon, and afterwards flitted to a small farm, near St.
Ives, with his wife and family. Hume says the long morning and afternoon
prayers he made, consumed his own time, and that of his ploughmen, and
he had little leisure for temporal affairs. A property in, and near Ely,
left him by his maternal uncle, determined him to settle in that city,
in 1636. In 1640 he was returned for Cambridge, by the majority of a
single vote. From this moment the history of Cromwell is the history of
England, and his acts and all that he did, are written in the chronicles
of Clarendon, Hume, and other historians, whose name is Legion. From that
time, whether in Parliament, or the field, he was in arms against the
King, whose execution took place on the 30th of January, 1649. But the
inscription over the bed on which the Protector lay in state, will assist
the memory as to dates.
Oliver Cromwell, Lord Protector, etc., born at Huntingdon, was educated
in Cambridge, afterwards at Lincoln’s Inn. At the beginning of the wars,
captain of a troop of horse raised at his own charge. By the Parliament
made Commander-in-Chief, he reduced Ireland and South Wales, overthrew
Duke Hamilton’s army, and the Kirk’s at Dunbar, reduced all Scotland, and
defeated Charles Stuart’s army, at Worcester. He was proclaimed Protector
in 1654, and while refusing the title of King, sate on a Chair of State,
the only one covered, in that vast assembly, and drove back to his Palace
at Whitehall, with more than regal pomp. Thither, keeping up great state,
he removed his aged mother, whose remaining days were embittered by
alarm, for her son’s safety, his favourite daughter, Mrs. Claypole, from
whom he would scarcely ever separate, the gentle and handsome likeness of
himself, Mary, etc.
Hard, cruel, and uncompromising in public life, Oliver was tender, and
loving in his domestic relations. He lost two sons, Robert, who died
in childhood, Oliver, who fell in battle, a great favourite with his
father, who in his last moments alluded to the young soldier’s death,
“which went as a dagger to my heart, indeed it did.” His other children
were, Richard, his successor for a short time only; Henry, Lord Deputy
of Ireland; Bridget, married first, to General Ireton, and secondly,
to Lieutenant-General Fleetwood; Elizabeth, married to Mr. Claypole,
his favourite daughter, whose death was supposed to have hastened her
father’s; Mary married to Viscount Fauconberg; and Frances married to the
Hon. Robert Rich.
It is almost too well known, to be worthy of writing down, how Cromwell’s
last days were embittered by suspicion, and distrust of all around him,
and constant fear of assassination. He died, however, after fourteen
days sickness, of ague, “peaceably in his bed,” on his “fortunate day,”
September the Third, the anniversary of the victories of Worcester, and
Dunbar, in a storm so tremendous, and so universal, that it reached the
coasts of the Mediterranean. The funeral was conducted with more than
regal pomp, and splendour, but on the accession of Charles II., the
Protector’s body was dug up, and hung upon the “Traitor’s Tree.”
_General Monk_:
BY WALKER.
HALF-LENGTH: OVAL.
(In Armour. Long Hair. White Cravat, tied with large Bow, and
Black Ribbon.)
Born, 1608. Died, 1670. A younger son of Thomas Monk, of Potheridge,
Devon. When only seventeen, in consequence of a domestic quarrel,
where (says the _Biographie Universelle_) “par excès d’amour filial,
il maltraita le sous-sheriff d’Exeter,” he went to sea, and afterwards
served under the Duke of Buckingham. In 1629, he entered one of the
English regiments in Holland, where he studied the art of war, with great
diligence, and was remarkable for his steadiness, and for the discipline,
he maintained among the soldiers, treating them at the same time with
great kindness. In 1639, he returned to England. When Charles I., was
embarked in that unfortunate war with Scotland, which was the forerunner
of terrible disasters, Monk, as Lieutenant-Colonel of artillery,
displayed much skill, and courage, though both proved useless; and he
then went to Ireland on promotion. Here he did considerable service, was
made Governor of Dublin, but Parliament intervening, he was superseded
in the office, and on the conclusion of a truce (by the King’s commands)
with the Irish rebels, he returned to England. On his arrival he found
that doubts of his fidelity had been instilled into Charles’s mind; but
joining that monarch at Oxford, he soon dispelled them, was promoted to
the rank of Major-General, and sent to relieve Sandwich, where he was
taken prisoner, and thence committed to the Tower by the Roundheads.
His captivity lasted two years, during which time he rejected all
overtures, made him by the Protector, and occupied his leisure hours
in noting down his observations on military, and political subjects.
Cromwell entertained a high opinion of Monk as a soldier, and he offered
him the alternative of prolonged imprisonment, or a command in the
Parliamentary army, to march against O’Neill, the Irish rebel. Monk
accepted the latter, and behaved in this expedition with his usual
courage, and determination; but he was ill-supported by the Government at
home, who, as we are told, “had too many irons in the fire,” to attend
to the Irish war. He was reluctantly compelled to sign a treaty with
O’Neill, for which proceeding he was called to account, on his return
to England. But the Protector considered his services necessary, and
despatched him in command to Scotland, where he again saw much service.
Yet in Oliver’s mind there lurked suspicions of Monk’s fidelity; and not
long before his death, he wrote to the General saying: “There be that
tell me, there is a certain cunning fellow in Scotland, called George
Monk, who is said to lie in wait there, to introduce Charles Stuart; I
pray you use your diligence to apprehend him, and send him up to me.”
Monk’s proceedings from this time, form part of history, and the share he
took in the restoration of Charles II., is too well known to be repeated
here. Charles called him his father, invested him with the Order of the
Garter, created him Duke of Albemarle, Earl of Torrington, and Baron
Monk, 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 Clargis, 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 court, 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 in joint command of the fleet with Prince Rupert, when the
Great 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, (who
died without children), and was buried in Westminster Abbey with great
splendour, Charles II. attending his obsequies.
Guizot says: “C’étoit un homme capable de grandes choses, quoiqu’il n’eût
pas de grandeur dans l’âme.” His jealousy of his noble colleague Lord
Sandwich, bears out the French historian’s Opinion, in some measure.
In his last illness, he was much occupied with arranging 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.
The nuptials were celebrated in his own chamber, and a few days
afterwards, George Monk, Duke of Albemarle, expired in his arm-chair,
without a groan.
_Charles II., King of England_:
BY SIR PETER LELY.
FULL-LENGTH.
(Standing by a Table, on which are his Helmet and Staff.)
Born, 1630. Died, 1685.—He was the second surviving son of Charles I.,
by Henrietta Maria of France, born at St. James’s Palace, on the 29th
of May. When only twelve years old was appointed to the command of a
troop of horse, his father’s Body Guard at York, and sent with the title
of General, to serve in the Royal army when fifteen. After the defeat
of Naseby, he went to Scilly, then to Jersey, and in 1646 joined his
mother, at Paris. He was at the Hague, when the news of his father’s
death reached him, and he immediately assumed the title of King. In
1649, he was proclaimed King at Edinburgh. He left Holland, returned to
Paris, and thence again to Jersey, where he received a deputation from
Scotland, and accepted the Crown offered him by the Presbyterians, under
such humiliating conditions, as disgusted him with that sect, for the
rest of his life. In 1650, he arrived in Scotland, being compelled to
take the Covenant before he landed; was crowned at Scone on New Year’s
Day, 1651; but marched south, on hearing of the advance of Cromwell, and
was proclaimed King at Carlisle. Defeated by Cromwell, at the Battle
of Worcester, Charles had a narrow escape, with all the well known
incidents of the hiding place in Boscobel Oak, etc. He embarked from
Shoreham for Normandy, thence to Paris, Bruges, Brussels. In the latter
city he heard of the Protector’s death; then, when at Calais and Breda,
he kept up constant communication, not only with General Monk, and his
own acknowledged partisans, but he also sent addresses to both Houses
of Parliament. On the 1st, of May 1660, they voted his restoration; on
the 8th, he was proclaimed in London; on the 23rd, he embarked from
the Hague; and on the 29th, his thirtieth birthday, he made his public
entry into London, amidst the enthusiastic acclamations of the people.
In 1662, he married Catherine of Braganza, daughter of John IV., King of
Portugal, and died at Whitehall, in the twenty-fifth year of his reign.
Some say he confessed himself a Roman Catholic; some that he was a victim
to poison. It was his brother’s wish to prove the former statement, and
several of his contemporaries, including the Duke of Buckingham, believed
the latter. The last named nobleman gives apparently an impartial
character of the “Merry Monarch,” who was remarkable for contradictions,
and inconsistencies, even above the average, in an inconsistent world.
Buckingham says: “His very countenance set all rules of physiognomy at
defiance, for being of a cheerful and compassionate disposition, his
expression was melancholy, and repelling. He had a wonderful facility
in comprehending trifles, but had too little application to master
great matters. Generous, extravagant, lavish in the extreme, he had a
reluctance to part with small sums, and it was often remarked that he
grudged losing five pounds at tennis to the very people on whom at other
times he would bestow five thousand. Gentle and yielding in trifles, he
was inflexible in important matters. Profligate in the extreme, weak
and capricious, he was,” says the same witness, “a civil and obliging
husband, a kind master, an indulgent father, and an affectionate [and he
might have added, forbearing] brother. Hating the formalities of royalty,
he was ready to assert his dignity, when it was necessary to do so. So
agreeably did he tell a story, that his hearers never cavilled at its
repetition, not through civility, but from the desire to hear it again,
as is the case with a clever comedy.”
So far the Duke of Buckingham. We know what his boon companion Rochester,
wrote of him, in a provisional epitaph; perhaps one of the only sallies
proceeding from his favourite, that “Old Rowley” did not relish:
“Here lies our Sovereign lord the King,
Whose word no man relies on:
Who never said a foolish thing,
And never did a wise one.”
Also Andrew Marvell’s satire:
“Of stature tall and sable hue,
Much like the son of Kish, that lofty Jew;
Ten years of need, he lingered in exile,
And fed his father’s asses, all the while.”
_Charles II., King of Spain_:
AGED FOUR YEARS.
BY SEBASTIAN HERRERA.
FULL-LENGTH.
(Long flowing Light Hair. Red Coat, trimmed with Silver. Lace
Ruffles. Holding a Truncheon in one Hand, and his Hat in the
other. Above him an Eagle, with extended Wings, bearing a
Sword. An Angel hovering over the King, holding the Spanish
Crown.)
Born, 1661. Died, 1700. Eldest surviving son of Philip IV., by Mariana,
of Austria. Succeeded his father, when four years of age. His first wife
was Marie Louise, daughter of Philip, Duke of Orleans, by Henrietta Maria
of England. Transplanted from the brilliant Court of France, to the
stiff formality of Spain, and the Spaniards, at a time when the jealousy
of France was so great, that the Mistress of the Robes was said to have
wrung her parrots’ necks for speaking French, Marie Louise, the wife of
a half idiot King, bore herself wisely and bravely, and during the few
short years of her reign, gained an influence for good, over her husband,
who loved her dearly. But the mirror which broke to pieces in her fair
hands, on the day of her arrival in Madrid, was but too true an omen. She
died in the 27th year of her age, a victim to poison (as her mother had
been before her), supposed to have been administered by the beautiful
and infamous Olympia Mancini—at least this was the general belief. Her
husband lamented her deeply; yet he re-married the next year, Anna Maria,
daughter of Philip, Count Palatine, of Neuburg, a good-humoured, amiable
Princess; but Charles remained indifferent to her, and so faithful was
he to the memory of his first wife, that one of his last acts was to
cause the tomb in which she was interred to be opened, while he hung in
speechless sorrow, over the embalmed remains of the once beautiful Marie
Louise; and when he looked upon her still comely features, he exclaimed,
with tears, “I shall meet her soon in Heaven.”