attack on his former friend—the blood-hounds were on the track, the hunt
was up. Our limited space forbids us to do more than glance at the
circumstances of Strafford’s arrest and trial, but in truth it is a
well-known tale. He was impeached by Pym of high treason, compelled to
listen to the charge on his knees, was given into custody, and lodged in
the Tower. There is extant a most graphic description of the scene which
Westminster Hall presented on the occasion of the trial, crowded to the
roof, the King and Queen being present, and the whole court and nobility
of England, ladies of the highest rank, whose tears flowed copiously,
and whose verdict was unanimous in favour of the illustrious prisoner.
It was well said by the elder Disraeli, that ‘Strafford’s eloquence was
so great as to perpetuate the sympathy which he received in the hour of
his agony.’ He had indeed need of his eloquence. Every obstacle was
thrown in his way, especially in the matter of summoning witnesses,
while his personal enemies were invited from all parts of the country.
His confidence was betrayed, his words perverted, the whole proceedings
were unlawful and unprecedented, and the Solicitor-General heaped
insults on the accused. A Bill of Attainder was provided, and the few
individuals who gave negative votes had their names posted up in the
City as Straffordians.
There was a passage of arms between the two Houses on the subject, but
the vultures were hovering round, and would not be disappointed of their
prey. Thomas Wentworth, Earl of Strafford, was declared guilty of high
treason. On this sad passage, the saddest of all in Charles’s sad life,
we need not dwell long. He had pledged his royal word to his noble
friend, ‘You shall not suffer in honour, in fortune, or in life.’ Yet
after some hesitation and delay, weeping all the time, he signed the
death-warrant, laying up for himself hours of deep remorse during the
few years he survived. The generous prisoner wrote to his master,
indeed, to absolve him from his promise; but when he learned he was to
prepare for death, he raised his eyes to heaven exclaiming, ‘Put not
your trust in princes, or in any child of man.’
During the short interval between the sentence and the execution, the
captive busied himself in settling his worldly affairs, writing wise,
tender, and pathetic letters to his relatives, and devoting his mind to
the fulfilment of his religious duties.
An earnest request to be allowed to visit his attached friend and
fellow-prisoner, Archbishop Laud, was cruelly refused, and he was only
permitted to send him a message, entreating the prelate’s blessing as he
passed to execution. Accordingly, on the 12th of May 1641, Strafford, on
his way to the scaffold, raised his eyes to the window of the cell where
the Archbishop was confined, and perceived the aged and trembling hand
waving through the bars a solemn farewell to the man he had so long and
so faithfully loved. Thousands of spectators lined the streets, the
passions of the mob had been so excited against the prisoner that the
guards kept close to the carriage lest he should be torn to pieces.
Strafford smiled calmly, and remarked it would matter little to him
whether he died by the hands of the executioner or by those of the
people. ‘He had faced death too often to fear it in any shape.’
His friend, Archbishop Ussher, and his brother, Sir George Wentworth,
were already on the platform. Strafford spoke for some time. He declared
that his whole aim through life had been the joint and individual
prosperity of the King and the people, although he had had the
misfortune to be misconstrued. He denied all the charges brought against
him, asked forgiveness of all men he had injured, and prayed ‘that we
may all meet eternally in heaven, where sad thoughts shall be driven
from our hearts, and tears wiped from our eyes.’ Then he bade farewell
to those near him, embracing his brother, by whom he sent tender
messages to his wife and children. ‘One stroke,’ he said, ‘will make my
wife husbandless, my children fatherless, my servants masterless; but
let God be to you and to them all in all.’ Taking off his doublet, he
thanked God he could do so as cheerfully as ever he did when going to
bed. Then he forgave the executioner and all the world. It was indeed an
imposing scene,—Strafford on that momentous day apparently restored to
all the energy of health and vigour, his symmetrical form, his regular
features, with a complexion ‘pallid but manly.’ Once more he knelt in
prayer between the Archbishop and the Minister, tried the block, and
having warned the executioner that he would give the sign, stretched
forth his white and beautifully formed hands, which Vandyck has
immortalised, which Henrietta Maria, his sworn enemy, had pronounced the
finest in the world; and one stroke from the cruel axe ended the mortal
career of Thomas, Earl of Strafford.
He was thrice married,—first, to Lady Margaret Clifford, who died
childless; secondly, to Lady Arabella Holles, daughter to the Earl of
Clare, by whom he had one son and two daughters; and thirdly, to
Elizabeth, daughter of Sir Godfrey Rhodes (the marriage was a
clandestine one), from whom he was separated for a period immediately
after the ceremony, and it was some time before he would acknowledge her
openly; in fact a mystery hung over the whole matter. Lord Strafford’s
letters to this lady during his trial were couched in affectionate
terms. She bore him several children, one of whom alone survived him. Of
his connection with that beautiful schemer, Lady Carlisle, born Percy,
there can be no doubt,—‘she who,’ says Sir Philip Warwick, ‘changed her
gallant from Strafford to Pym, thus going over to his deadly enemy’; but
there were many other names coupled with that of Lord Strafford,
apparently without any reason, save the love of slander.
-------
No. 10. COLONEL THE HONOURABLE JOHN RUSSELL.
_Brown embroidered dress. Wig._
DIED 1681.
BY SIR GODFREY KNELLER.
HE was the youngest son of Francis, fourth Earl of Bedford, by Catherine
Bridges. He served with distinction in the royal army under Charles the
First, and at the Restoration was appointed Colonel of the first
regiment of the Foot Guards. At one time there were negotiations
carrying on for his marriage with a daughter of the Earl of Bath, which
was prevented by the young lady’s family, who were desirous she should
marry her cousin, heir to the Earldom of Bath. The gallant colonel then
became a suitor for the hand of the famous beauty La Belle Hamilton.
There is a laughable description of him in the _Memoires de Grammont_,
and we cannot but think that as the chronicler himself carried off the
prize, he might have been rather more generous in his delineation of an
unsuccessful rival:
‘M. Le Colonel Russell avoit bien soixante ans, son courage et sa
fidélité l’avoient distingué dans les guerres civiles. Il n’y avoit pas
longtemps qu’on avoit quitté le ridicule, des chapeaux pointus, pour
tomber dans l’autre extrémité. Le vieux Russell, effraié d’une chute si
terrible, voulut prendre un milieu qui le rendit remarquable. Il l’étoit
encore par la constance envers les pourpoints taillardés qu’il a
soutenus longtemps après leur suppression universelle. Mais ce qui
surprenoit le plus c’étoit un certain mélange d’avarice et de libéralité
sans cesse en guerre l’une avec l’autre, depuis qu’il y étoit avec
l’amour.’
He was selected by his nephew, Lord Russell, to carry the noble letter
which the prisoner had written from Newgate on the 19th July 1683 to the
King.
-------
No. 11. FRANCIS RUSSELL, FOURTH EARL OF BEDFORD.
_Black dress._
DIED 1641.
BY REMÉE.
HE was the only son of William Russell, called the Heroic Baron of
Thornhaugh, whom he accompanied to Ireland when only nine years old. A
curious picture at Woburn leads us to believe that the young Francis
shared his father’s love of sport, being there represented in a white
hunting jacket with green hose, a hawk on his hand, and two dogs in
couples beside him. He was knighted in 1604 by James the First, at
Whitehall, and the ensuing year he married Catherine, daughter and
co-heir of Gyles Brydges, third Lord Chandos, with whom he lived very
happily; and during the first years of his marriage he devoted himself
to domestic life, and took great delight in study. Having received a
legal education he prosecuted his researches into questions of law,
parliamentary privileges and the like, which were destined to prove
useful to him in his public career. He succeeded his father, as Baron
Thornhaugh, in 1613; and his cousin, Edward Russell, in the Earldom of
Bedford in 1627. He frequented the society of such men as Sir Robert
Cotton, Selden, Eliott, and was ever ready, says one of his biographers,
to uphold the liberty of the subject against such despots as James the
First. On the accession of Charles the First, Lord Bedford continued the
same independent line of conduct, and several times fell under the
displeasure of the Court. In 1628 he distinguished himself by his
steadfast advocacy of the famous Petition of Rights (to which Charles
was in the end compelled to give an unwilling consent); and he received
in consequence the royal commands to betake himself to the distant
county of Devonshire, of which he was Lord-Lieutenant. Both political
bias and private friendship attached him to the so-called popular party,
which laid down as their principle for action ‘to prescribe limits to
the monarchical power.’ The profession of such opinions naturally led to
the fact that Lord Bedford, among many others, became an object of
suspicion to the Court. A rumour was set on foot that he had been
instrumental in the circulation of a seditious pamphlet, and on this
plea he was arrested and imprisoned for a short time. In 1630 he took a
prominent part in the drainage of the Fens in the centre of England,
including the counties of North Hants, Lincoln, Hunts, Bedford,
Cambridge, and Norfolk; called the Great Level, and subsequently in his
honour the Bedford Level. In 1637 this generous and public-minded man
had expended for his own share of this great work £100,000, but he was
not destined to witness its completion. The part that Lord Bedford took
in the political events of the day—in the struggles between King and
Parliament, in the differences with the Scots—is not all this written in
the chronicles of the civil wars of Charles the First’s disastrous
reign? Suffice it to say that some of the popular Lords, and Lord
Bedford in particular, became aware of the advisability of moderation,
and the necessity of curbing the headlong opposition of the popular
party. But we cannot do better than to quote the eloquent words of the
great historian Lord Clarendon (then Mr. Hyde). He says: ‘This Lord was
the person of the greatest interest in the whole party, being of the
best estate and best understanding, and therefore most likely to govern
the rest.’ He was also of great civility and good-nature, and though
occasionally hot-tempered, and for the moment impatient of
contradiction, yet his opinions were wise and moderate. He was a good
adviser to the King, and served him in the end far better than many who
cajoled and flattered him. Lord Bedford was a man of strict religion,
and withstood the attempt to evict the bishops from the Upper House. He
with many others of the same party were sworn of the Privy Council, and
in this manner gained Charles’s ear, and exercised some degree of
influence over him in regulating and modifying measures that appeared
prejudicial to the common good. He was selected to be one of the Lords
Commissioners sent to confer with the Scots in the hope to compose the
long-existing differences. The King liked to transact business with him,
and was inclined to listen to his suggestions as to persons fitted to be
appointed to offices of state. Indeed Charles pressed upon Lord Bedford
himself the post of Lord Treasurer, ‘which the Bishop of London was as
willing to lay down as any one else could be to take up,’ but Lord
Bedford refused the office. He was one of the few Peers (to his honour
be it spoken) who exerted himself to the utmost to save the life of Lord
Strafford. He pleaded his cause vainly with his colleague, the Earl of
Essex; and finding him inexorable, prevailed on Mr. Hyde (in a long
interview he had on the subject) to intercede with Lord Essex. He also
endeavoured to keep the King up to his original intention of commuting
or mitigating the sentence. He observed to Mr. Hyde that he thought ‘the
Earl of Strafford’s business was a rock on which they would all split,
and that he was sure the passion of Parliament would undo the kingdom.’
But a sudden attack of illness arrested Lord Bedford’s useful and noble
career. He was seized with the small-pox, and on ascertaining the fact,
his first step was to send away his daughter, Lady Brooke, lest she
should fall a victim to the fell disease which wrought such havoc in the
house of Russell, seeing that his son and great-grandson both died of
the same. Lord Bedford was very much averse to the treatment which his
physician, Dr. Cragg, prescribed for him, namely, to be kept a close
prisoner to his bed. And when forbidden to get up, he sighed dolefully
and said, ‘Well, then, I must die to observe your rules.’
Dr. Cademan, a medical man who had advocated a different treatment,
published a pamphlet, which gave as his opinion that Lord Bedford ‘had
died of too much bed, rather than of the small-pox.’ The same authority,
speaking of the Earl’s devotion, says: ‘I never saw the like, though I
have waited upon many who had no other business left but to die well.
Commending his body to be buried with decency, but without pomp, his
breath was spent before his hands and eyes ceased to be lifted up to
Heaven, as if his soul would have carried his body along with it.’
So passed away on the 9th of May 1641 Francis Russell, called the wise
Earl of Bedford, a loss to the unfortunate Strafford, whose sentence was
carried out in a few days; a loss to the King, whose wholesome adviser
he was; a loss to the popular party, whose violence he would fain have
curbed. His death was universally mourned, and every mark of respect
paid to his memory. Three hundred coaches with Peers and their servants
attended; a long and solemn procession followed the body on its road to
Chenies, the burying-place of the Russell family, with led horses,
banners displayed, Garter King-at-Arms, ‘all the pomp of heraldry and
pride of power’; and this great and good man was interred amid the
prayers and tears of a large multitude. His widow survived him some
years, and was then buried beside him.
-------
_No_. 13. WILLIAM, LORD RUSSELL.
_In armour. Long flowing hair._
BORN 1639, EXECUTED 1683.
BY RUSSELL.
HE was born second son of William, fifth Earl, afterwards first Duke, of
Bedford. He went with his elder brother, Lord Russell, to Cambridge, and
later travelled in his company, and that of a learned tutor on the
Continent. At Augsburg the brothers separated, and William proceeded to
Lyons, whence his letters home proved he amused himself very much, and
amidst a gay and brilliant society formed a close acquaintance with the
eccentric and celebrated ex-Queen, Christina of Sweden, who appeared to
have gained great influence over the young Englishman, who evinced a
great inclination for some time to enter the Swedish army as a
volunteer. His letters during his sojourn in France, many of which were
addressed to his tutor, to whom he was much attached, do him honour.
When _en route_ for England he fell sick at Paris, and finding himself,
as he writes, ‘at the gates of death,’ he assures his old friend that he
prays constantly to God to ‘give me grace that I may employ in His
service the life His mercy has spared to me.’
On his arrival at home, William for a time devoted himself to the care
of his brother, then in ill-health, and to giving his father assistance
in domestic affairs. At the Restoration, Lord Bedford and his family
were marked out for favour, and the Earl carried the sceptre at the
Coronation, and soon after William was elected member for Tavistock.
Handsome, accomplished, and nobly born, he became a shining light at the
brilliant Court of Charles the Second, but his tastes were too earnest,
and his bias too virtuous to find any lasting satisfaction in a society
so frivolous and immoral. An early attachment to a good and beautiful
woman proved a strong safeguard to the young courtier, which was crowned
about the year 1669, by a marriage, the happiness of which family and
historical records can vouch. It was indeed a well-assorted union, the
commencement of ‘domestic bliss,’ as the poet says, ‘the only happiness
which has survived the Fall.’ William Russell’s choice was Rachel, the
daughter of the noble loyalist, Thomas Wriothesley, Earl of Southampton,
and the daughter-in-law of the Earl of Carbery, being the widow of his
eldest son, Lord Vaughan. We refer our readers to our sketch of Lady
Russell’s life, who retained her widowed title of Lady Vaughan until the
death of William’s elder brother. In the meantime he began his political
career by a zealous and conscientious attention to his parliamentary
duties, and was not long before he incurred the lasting animosity of the
Duke of York, and indeed of the King himself, by his zealous opposition
to many arbitrary measures proposed by the Court party, which, in
Russell’s opinion, were calculated to endanger ‘the liberty of the
subject, the safety of the kingdom, and the welfare of the Protestant
religion.’ In 1679 he was made a Privy Councillor, a dignity he did not
long enjoy, for we read shortly after ‘that the Lords Russell,
Cavendish, and others, finding the King’s heart and head were against
popular councils, and that their presence in Council could no longer
prevent pernicious measures, and not being willing to serve him against
the interests of their country, went to him together, and desired him to
excuse their attendance any more at Council.’ The King gladly accepted
their resignation, for he wanted men who would promote his arbitrary
measures, and thus, says Smollett, ‘Lord Russell, one of the most
popular and virtuous men of the nation, quitted the Council Board.’
He was a prominent promoter of the Bill of Exclusion to prevent the Duke
of York, or any Papist whatsoever, from succeeding to the Throne. When
the Bill passed the Commons, it was Lord Russell who carried it in
person to the Upper House, on which occasion he made a most eloquent
speech, and wound up by saying that in the event of changes so
occurring, he should be prevented living a Protestant, it was his fixed
resolution to die one. But all opposition to the Papal succession was
unavailing, and in 1681 the King dissolved Parliament, by which means
Lord Russell found himself at liberty for a short space to indulge in
the retirement and pleasures of a happy home with the wife and children
he adored. But his country’s welfare was ever paramount in his mind, and
he kept up his interest in public affairs.
During the ensuing summer the Prince of Orange visited England, and had
several interviews and confidential conversations with Lord Russell,
who, moreover, made himself doubly obnoxious to the Court party by
meeting the Duke of Monmouth in his progress through the North, at the
head of a considerable body of men.
In conversation with his domestic chaplain Lord Russell once remarked
that he was convinced he should one day fall a sacrifice, since
arbitrary government could never be set up in England while he lived to
oppose it, and that to the last drop of his blood. And it was evident he
took little pains to prevent the fulfilment of his own prophecy. This
was a period of plots and counter-plots. There had been much talk lately
of a Popish plot, and now the Protestant, or Rye House Plot, was said to
have been discovered, the object of which, it was affirmed, was to seize
the persons of the King and Duke of York on their return from Newmarket.
The enemies of Lord Russell, and several other noblemen, who
participated in his political views, were glad to take hold of any
pretext to secure the ruin of the men on whose downfall they were bent,
and many of the highest of England’s nobility were now loudly accused of
being implicated in the conspiracy, and orders were issued for their
arrest. The Duke of Monmouth was not forthcoming, but Lord Russell,
strong in his own innocence, refused to make his escape, though strongly
urged to do so by many of his friends. He disdained the notion of
flight, though from the beginning he gave himself up for lost. So he sat
calmly in his study awaiting the arrival of the officers, to whom he
made no resistance, and was conveyed first to the Tower and thence to
Newgate.