seems to have been an authority on matters of etiquette, for before the
birth of his first child, Henry asked her to draw up a set of rules
about the ceremonies to be observed on the occasion. In these rules it
is stated that there were to be two cradles of tree, meaning of wood,
one large for state occasions, to be adorned with paintings and
furnished with cloth of gold and ermine fur and crimson velvet. At its
christening, the child was to carry a little taper in its hand, and 200
torches were to be borne before it to the altar. After the baptism, the
torches and the little taper were to be lit and the child was to present
the taper at the altar. It looks as if the love for grand ceremonies
which distinguished the Tudors had been started by Margaret. Her own
household was beautifully ordered. She had drawn up a set of rules for
the guidance of all the servants and the ladies and gentlemen, who made
up her household, and these rules were read aloud four times a year that
all might know and observe them. She visited in turn all her different
estates, spending some time at each so that she might see that each was
well ordered, and hear the complaints of all those who had any
grievances. She herself would constantly speak loving words of
encouragement to her servants, bidding them all to do well and to live
in peace with one another. She employed a band of minstrels of her own,
who would sometimes wander round the country and perform before the king
and the court. As was the custom in those days, many young gentlemen
were educated in her household. Her care of the sick and suffering never
failed. She would minister to them with her own hands, and twelve poor
folk to whom she gave food and raiment lodged constantly in her house.
Neither did Margaret forget her interest in study. We are told by Bishop
Fisher, who knew her well, that she was of singular wisdom far
surpassing the common rate of women. She collected a great number of
books both English and French, and she was a warm friend to William
Caxton, who first introduced printing into England, and who dedicated a
book to her which he said had been translated from the French at her
request. After Caxton’s death in 1496, his assistant, Wynkyn de Worde,
became the chief printer in London: he was much favoured by Margaret,
and allowed to call himself, “Printer unto the most excellent princess,
my lady the king’s mother.” He published books for Margaret, and amongst
others one which she had herself translated from the French.
Margaret had always been a deeply religious woman, but with growing
years she gave ever more time to her religious observances. Many hours
were spent in prayer and in services in her chapel. She observed
strictly all the fasts ordained by the Church, which were very severe in
those days, and she wore on certain days in each week a hair shirt, or a
hair girdle, next her skin in order to mortify her flesh. In 1497
Margaret appointed a learned Cambridge scholar, John Fisher, whom she
had noticed with favour at court, where he had come on business
connected with his university, to be her confessor. Fisher gained great
influence over her, and he used it for the good of his university, which
was then by no means in a prosperous condition. Margaret was always
generous with her money; Fisher says of her that she hated avarice and
covetousness, and she was glad to use her wealth to promote the cause of
learning. Under Fisher’s guidance she founded professorships at
Cambridge and Oxford, which are still called after her. The college
where Fisher had himself studied, called God’s House, was very poor, and
Margaret refounded it under the name of Christ’s College, and herself
made the statutes under which it was to be governed. She took great
interest in it, and kept some rooms in it for herself, where she might
stay when she came to Cambridge. Once when she was staying there, before
the building of the College was finished, she was looking out of the
window when she saw the dean beating a scholar who had misbehaved. She
did not interfere to stop the punishment, but only called out in Latin,
“Lente, Lente” (gently, gently), wishing that the beating might be less
severe. It was in Cambridge that the famous scholar Erasmus met her on
one of his visits to England, when she was an old lady, and admired her
good memory and her ready wit.
Before the buildings of Christ’s College were finished, Fisher won
Margaret’s interest in the foundation of another college, St. John’s. At
that time, the time which is known as the Renaissance, because art and
learning seemed to be born again, men were eager to improve the teaching
at the universities, and to make it possible for all who wished to gain
knowledge. Fisher was friends with Erasmus and other learned men, and
Margaret was willing to help with her money his plans for the
advancement of learning, just as she had helped Caxton and Wynkyn de
Worde in printing and publishing books. But though, for those days, she
was a learned woman herself, she does not seem to have thought that
other women should be helped to study, and it was only the learning of
men that she aided by her gifts.
[Illustration:
_Photo: A. E. Walsham._
CHRIST’S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.
]
Henry VII. was interested in his mother’s plans and himself visited
Cambridge to see her college. He also thought highly of Fisher, and
named him Bishop of Rochester. There seems to have been a deep affection
between Henry and his mother. Once in writing to her, towards the end of
his life, he says that he “is bounden to her for the great and singular
motherly love and affection” she has always had for him. In writing to
the king, Margaret called him “My own sweet and most dear king and all
my worldly joy,” and often addressed him as “my dear heart.” She had the
sorrow of seeing him die before her, but she did not live many months
after him. She suffered greatly from rheumatic pains in what Bishop
Fisher calls “her merciful and loving hands,” so that her ladies and
servants wept to see her agony. She died at Westminster and was buried
in Henry VII.’s chapel in Westminster Abbey, where a black marble tomb
commemorates her memory. Bishop Fisher preached her funeral sermon, and
said in it “all England for her death had cause of weeping; the poor
creatures that were wont to receive her alms, to whom she was always
piteous and merciful, the students of both universities to whom she was
a mother, all the learned men of England to whom she was a very
patroness, all the good religious men and women, whom she so often was
wont to visit and comfort.” Margaret’s plans for the foundation of St.
John’s College were not finished at her death, and Wolsey, the favourite
of her grandson Henry VIII., tried to get her lands for other purposes.
Fisher’s efforts succeeded in keeping a great deal for St. John’s,
though not so much as Margaret had meant to give. She left all her
jewels, books, vestments, plate, and altar cloths to her two colleges.
She had been specially fond of fine goldsmith’s work, and many beautiful
things had been made for her, adorned with her own emblem, a daisy, or
with the rose and the portcullis, which through her descent from the
Lancaster and Beaufort families became the Tudor emblems. Besides her
colleges, she founded several almshouses, and a school at Wimborne,
where her parents were buried. She used her great possessions as a trust
which she held for the good of the country, and for herself sought no
luxury or display, being, as Bishop Fisher says in his sermon,
“temperate in meats and drinks, eschewing banquets and keeping fast
days.”
[Illustration:
TUDOR ROSE (WHITE AND RED).
From the gates of the Chapel of Henry VII.
]
V
RACHEL, LADY RUSSELL
RACHEL WRIOTHESLEY was the daughter of the Earl of Southampton and a
French Huguenot lady whom he had married when travelling in France, and
who was renowned for her beauty and virtue. Rachel was born in 1636. She
never knew her mother, who died when she was an infant. Her father
married again, and we know nothing about her relations with her
stepmother, but we know that she dearly loved her sisters, and was very
good friends with her stepsister. England was passing through troublous
times during her childhood on account of the disputes between Charles I.
and his Parliament. Lord Southampton was a sensible, moderate man, and
he could not approve of the king’s doings, but he remained true to him
and took his side when the civil war broke out. When the terrible end
came and Charles I. was beheaded in 1649, Southampton got permission to
watch by the king’s body during the night after the execution. He is
reported to have told a friend that, whilst he was watching, at about
two o’clock in the morning, he heard a step on the stair and a man
entered, muffled in a cloak, and stood by the body. He heard him sigh,
“Cruel necessity,” and knew by the voice that it was Cromwell.
Southampton’s moderation was so well known that, though he had been the
king’s friend, the Parliament did not seize his lands, and he was
suffered to live quietly on one of his estates in Hampshire. Rachel was
then about thirteen years old and must have benefited from the
companionship of her father during these quiet years. We know nothing of
her education, and she does not seem in after life to have possessed any
learning; but no doubt it was from her father she gained the good sense
and the deep religious faith which distinguished her through life. She
was an heiress since her father had no son, and only two of his other
daughters survived him. As was the custom in those days, a suitable
marriage was soon arranged for her. She was only seventeen when she
married Lord Vaughan, who died four years afterwards. All that is known
of their married life is that Lady Rachel behaved so as to win the love
of her husband’s family, who always remained her friends. When her
husband died, she went to live in Hampshire with her sister Elizabeth,
to whom she was deeply attached. Each of the sisters possessed a fine
place in Hampshire, and when Elizabeth died both these places, Tichfield
and Stratton, belonged to Rachel. Her father had lived to see the
restoration of Charles II. and to be one of his first ministers, but he
was now dead and Rachel was completely her own mistress. There was no
one to arrange a marriage for her, and she was able to choose for
herself a man whom she deeply loved. She had known William Russell, the
younger son of the Duke of Bedford, for two years before they were
married. He had shown his devotion to her for some time, but perhaps
because he was a younger son and she was an heiress, he hesitated at
first to ask her to be his wife. They were married at last in 1669, and
fourteen years of perfect happiness began for Rachel. The only real
sorrow that came to her was the death of her sister, whom she described
as “a delicious friend.” Her other sorrows were her brief separations
from her husband when he had to visit his father at Woburn.
William Russell’s elder brother had died, and he was now heir to the
dukedom of Bedford. He was not a brilliant man, but he was a very good
man, devotedly attached to his family and his friends, and very anxious
to do his duty. When they were separated, Lady Russell wrote constantly
to him, telling him all she heard that might interest him. When he had
only been gone a few hours she wrote that she could not “let this first
post night pass, without giving my dear man a little talk.” Once, when
she had gone over to Tunbridge Wells to drink the waters, she wrote:
“After a toilsome day, there is some refreshment to be telling our story
to our best friends. I have seen your girl well laid in bed, and
ourselves have made our suppers upon biscuits, a bottle of white wine,
and another of beer mingled my uncle’s way, with nutmeg and sugar. Beds
and things are all very well here: our want is yourself and good
weather.” They had three children, two girls and a boy, and her letters
are full of allusions to the eldest: “Our little girl is very well, and
extremely merry and often calls Papa. She gets new pretty tricks every
day.” And another time: “Your girls are very well; Miss Rachel has
prattled a long story, but I must omit it. She says Papa has sent for
her to Woburn, and then she gallops and says she has been there, and a
great deal more.”
Lord Russell was in Parliament, but at first he did not take much part
in public affairs; he had no ambition and liked his quiet home life
better than the bustle of public life. For many years he sat silent in
Parliament but his strong love of liberty and of the Protestant religion
at last drove him to be more active. There was much discontent with the
government of Charles II. and with the favour which he showed to the
Roman Catholics. Lord Russell joined himself with a number of others, to
whom the nickname of Whigs was given, who were anxious to maintain the
rights of Parliament, and to prevent the king’s brother James, Duke of
York, who was a Roman Catholic, from being considered the heir to the
throne. Lady Russell was very anxious lest her husband should do or say
anything rash, and even once sent him a little note to the House of
Parliament begging him to be silent. People were then very excited and
very bitter against those who thought differently from them. An
impostor, named Titus Oates, pretended to have discovered a popish plot
to destroy the king, and by his false accusations caused many innocent
men to be put to death. A few years afterwards, others pretended to have
discovered a Whig plot to kill Charles II. and his brother. Lord Russell
had not joined in any of the violent accusations made against those
opposed to him, nor had he been aware of any plot, but he was a man of
great influence, one of the leaders amongst the Whigs, and he too was
anxious to keep James from succeeding to the throne. When people were
angry and alarmed at the supposed Whig plot, the king and his friends
thought it a good opportunity to get rid of some of the Whig leaders.
There was one amongst them, Lord Howard, who was ready to secure his own
safety by betraying the others. Lord Russell knew that he was in danger,
and one day a man was set at his front gate to watch and prevent his
going out. But there was no one at his back gate so that he could easily
have escaped had he wished. This was perhaps what his enemies wanted.
But he felt that to escape would be the same thing as confession of his
guilt. He sent his wife out to ask the opinion of his friends, and they
agreed with him. So he stayed quietly at home, and the next day he was
fetched to appear before the King’s Council, and was afterwards sent as
a close prisoner to the Tower. He knew the fury of his enemies, and said
to his servant that “they would have his life;” and when the servant
answered that he hoped they would not have the power, he said, “Yes, the
devil is loose.”
From that moment, Lord Russell allowed himself no hope. He looked upon
himself as a dying man, and turned his thoughts away from this world to
another world. But his friends, of course, were eager to do everything
to save him. We can imagine what the suffering of his wife must have
been; she who had found it hard to bear a separation of a few days, had
now to face the terrible probability that he would be condemned to death
for high treason. Her first letter to him in the Tower was sent
concealed in a cold chicken. Afterwards she seems to have been able to
communicate with him more easily. Her courage was equal to her love, and
she set to work at once to try to collect evidence in his favour. Her
efforts never ceased during the fortnight which passed before he was
brought to trial, and she got hold of every possible fact that could be
urged in his defence. Moreover, she was brave and self-controlled enough
to determine to be present at his trial. She wrote to ask his leave
saying: “Your friends believing I can do you some service at your trial,
I am extremely willing to try; my resolution will hold out—pray let
yours. But it may be the court will not let me; however, do you let me
try.” When Lord Russell was brought before the Bar at the Old Bailey, he
asked for pen, ink, and paper, and the use of the papers that he had,
and said, “May I have somebody to write to help my memory?” He was told
that he might have one of his servants to write for him, and he
answered, “My wife is here, my lord, to do it.” The Lord Chief Justice
said, “If my lady please to give herself the trouble.” So Lady Russell
was allowed to be at his side to help him. He was accused of conspiring
against the king’s life, and of plotting to raise a rebellion in
England. Both these accusations he firmly denied. The witnesses against
him were men of despicable character and there is no doubt that their
evidence was false; but the jury found him guilty, and he was condemned
to death as a traitor.
There was only a week left before he was to be executed. His wife and
his friends could not give up hope. His father offered the king £50,000
if he would spare his life, and begged him not to bring his grey hairs
in sorrow to the grave. People of all kinds interceded with Charles, but
it was all in vain. Lady Russell never ceased her efforts. It was
suggested that she should try to surprise the king in the park and throw
herself at his feet, but this does not seem to have been possible. At
her earnest entreaty Lord Russell wrote to the king asking his pardon
for having been present at any meetings which may have been unlawful or
provoking to the king. But Charles never hesitated. He seems to have
regarded Lord Russell as a dangerous person. Lord Russell himself was
absolutely resigned to his fate, and only wished to be left in peace to
prepare for his death. Every day he was visited by a clergyman, Dr.
Burnet, who has left an account of his last days, and Lady Russell was
also much with him. She did not distress him by her lamentations, but
showed a greatness of spirit which was an immense comfort to him.
Sometimes when he spoke of her, the tears would come into his eyes and
he would quickly change the subject. Once he said that he wished she
would give up beating every bush for his preservation. But he realised
that it would help her afterwards to think that she had done everything
in her power, just as it helped her during those sad days to have
something to do. He was always cheerful and ready to talk and even joke
with those who came to see him, but he gave his mind chiefly to prayer
and religious thoughts, and to preparing a statement of his opinions
which he wished to be distributed after his death. On the last evening
of his life, he signed this paper and sent it to be printed. Then some
of his friends and his children came to see him, and he was calm and
cheerful with his children as usual. He bade his wife stay to supper
with him, saying, “Stay and sup with me, let us eat our last earthly
food together.” He talked cheerfully during supper on various subjects,
and particularly of his two daughters. When a note was brought to Lady
Russell with some new plan for his deliverance, he turned it into
ridicule, so that those who were with him were amazed. At ten o’clock
Lady Russell had to leave him. He kissed her four or five times, and
she, brave to the last, kept her sorrow so within herself that she gave
him no disturbance by their parting. After she was gone, he said, “Now
the bitterness of death is past,” and he talked long about the blessing
she had been to him, and what a comfort it was that in spite of her
great tenderness she had never wished him to do a base thing in order to
save his life. He said, “What a week should I have passed, if she had
been crying on me to turn informer and be a Lord Howard.” He thanked God
for giving him such a wife, and said that it was a great comfort to him
that he left his children in such a mother’s hands, and that she had
promised to him to take care of herself for their sakes. Then he turned
to think of the great change that was before him, and at last went to
bed and slept soundly. Those who were with him next morning were amazed
at the temper he was in. He thanked God that there was no sort of fear
nor hurry in his thoughts, and so he prayed and waited till they came to
take him in his coach to his execution. He was still cheerful as he
went, singing softly a psalm to himself. As they came near his own house
and then turned from it into another street, he said, “I have often
turned to the other hand with great comfort, and now I turn to this with
greater.” But as he looked towards his house, some tears were seen to
fall from his eyes. So he remained calm and cheerful till he laid his
head on the block and all his troubles were over.
We do not know and we can hardly bear to think how his wife passed those
terrible hours after she had parted from him. Seven years afterwards she
wrote: “There was something so glorious in the object of my biggest
sorrow, I believe, that in some measure kept me from being then
overwhelmed.” She was roused, only a few days after Lord Russell’s
death, to defend his memory, since it was asserted that the paper which
he had written before his death, and which had been printed and widely
read, was not his but had been written by Dr. Burnet. She wrote to the
king describing herself as a woman “amazed with grief,” and begged him
to believe that “he who in all his life was observed to act with the
greatest clearness and sincerity, would not at the point of death do so
false a thing as to deliver for his own what was properly not so.” Still
Dr. Burnet was regarded with such suspicion that he thought it wise to
leave the country for a time.
[Illustration: LORD WILLIAM RUSSELL TAKING LEAVE OF HIS CHILDREN
PREVIOUS TO HIS EXECUTION, 1683. (_After J. Bridges._)]
Lady Russell left London and went with her children to Woburn, the place
of the Duke of Bedford, her father-in-law. She had kind friends to help
her in her sorrow. The Duke of Bedford cherished her and her children
with tender affection, and for long she made her home with him. He
addressed her in his letter as his “dearest daughter,” and signed
himself “your most affectionate father and friend.” A clergyman, Dr.
Fitzwilliam, who had been her father’s chaplain and had known her from
infancy, wrote often to her, and to him she poured out her sorrow, as to
one who had known both her and her husband and had seen their life
together and therefore would be patient with her whilst her “disordered
thoughts” and her “amazed mind” made it difficult for her to speak of
anything but her grief. She had promised her husband that she would live
for her children, and to their care she now devoted herself, determining
to teach them herself, and we do not hear that her daughters ever had
any other teacher. Mr. Hoskins, her lawyer, helped her in the management
of her affairs with most tender sympathy, and tried to persuade her by
degrees to take some interest in them, so that she might not be too
entirely absorbed in her sorrow. He told her that great persons had
great trials, but also had more opportunity than common people to fit
their minds to bear them.
Her children were too young to know what they had lost, and she was
determined to do all in her power for them, and particularly for her
son, that he might not feel, if he grew to be a man, that it would have
been better for him had he had a mother “less ignorant or less
negligent.” She said that she had no choice in any matter for herself,
and could not like one way better than another, so long as what was done
was for the good of those young creatures whose service was all the
business she had in the world. But she hardly realised how dear her
children were to her, till the serious illness of her little boy showed
her what it would cost her to part with him. When he recovered she felt
that she had indeed something still to live for, and that she might be
blessed with some joy and satisfaction through her children. Her little
boy was heir to his grandfather, the Duke of Bedford, and on all matters
connected with his education she consulted the duke. Neither of them
wished to make him begin study too soon, but Lady Russell was anxious
that he should have a French tutor, that he might learn the language.
There were many Huguenots in England, who had fled from the persecutions
in France, and by engaging one of them she was able both to do a charity
and to be of use to her son.