even (like the old Italian masters of painting) better known to
posterity by her sobriquet than her name, for there were more than one
Lady Sunderland, but only one ‘Saccharissa.’ The poet, therefore, may
lay better claim to the title of godfather than the sponsors who held
the infant Dorothy at the font. She was the eldest of the eight
daughters of Robert Sidney, Earl of Leicester, of that name, by Dorothy,
daughter of Henry Percy, ninth Earl of Northumberland. Lord and Lady
Leicester bore a high character for ‘integrity and refinement of
breeding at the Court of Charles the First, while in private life they
shone a bright example of domestic harmony.’ Lady Leicester was a
provident as well as a tender mother, and she entertained early projects
in the matter of an advantageous marriage for her daughter, while
Dorothy was still very young. At sixteen the girl was renowned for her
beauty, and already surrounded by suitors. There appears to have been a
talk at Court of the probability of a match with my Lord Russell, the
heir of the house of Bedford; and Lady Leicester writes from the country
to her lord at Court, in 1635:
‘It would rejoice me much to receave some hope of that lord’s
addresses to Doll, that you writt of to me, for next to what
consarns you, I confess she is considered by me above any thing
of this world.’
This marriage, however, was not to be, and there was shortly after a
talk of the Earl of Devonshire, which, by Lady Leicester’s
correspondence, appears to have had some let or hindrance, through the
interference of meddling interferers; beside, she considered his mother
and sister were ‘full of decaite and jugling,’ professing to desire the
union. The next aspirant to the fair hand of the beautiful daughter of
Penshurst was no other than the celebrated Lord Lovelace, of whom her
mother thus writes: ‘I find my Lord Lovelace so uncertaine and so idle,
so much addicted to mean companie, and easily drawn to debaucherie, it
is now my studie to brake off with him. Many particulars I could tell
you of his wildnesse, but the knowledge of them would be of no use to
you, as he is likely to be a stranger to us. For tho’ his estate is
goode, his person pretie enowfe, his witte much more than ordinarie, yet
dare I not venture to give Doll to him.’ Lady Leicester concludes her
letter to her husband by saying, ‘My deere hart, let not these cross
accidents trouble you, for we do not know what God has provided for
her.’
The poet Waller now came forward and laid himself at the feet of the
high-born beauty; he had been left a widower when quite young, and had
gifts of nature and fortune to recommend him, but Dorothy’s parents
looked for noble birth in a suitor for their daughter’s hand, and it is
to be feared the poor poet was dismissed with some disdain. He was not
inconsolable, however; he sought solace from his Muse, and, better
still, in his union shortly afterwards with a willing bride.
A marriage was at length concluded ‘for dear Doll,’ which was calculated
to satisfy the best expectations of her parents, and to ensure her own
happiness.
Henry, Lord Spencer of Wormleighton, the first-born son of the second
lord, by Penelope, daughter of Thomas Wriothesley, Earl of Southampton,
was born at Althorp, his father’s country house, in 1620. To that
father’s titles and large estates the young man succeeded in 1636, and
in 1639 he was married at Penshurst, Lord Leicester’s beautiful home in
Kent, to that nobleman’s eldest and most beloved daughter, Lady Dorothy
Sidney. Lord Leicester was at the time Ambassador to the Court of
France, and immediately after the marriage the happy young couple
hurried off to join the bride’s father in Paris, where they remained for
two years, that is to say, until Lord Leicester’s diplomatic mission was
at an end. On their return, Lord Spencer took his seat in the House of
Lords, and soon made himself an object of esteem and commendation by his
talents and general good conduct. These qualities, added to his high
position and large property, naturally made him an object worth
contending for by the two adverse parties that were now beginning to
convulse England. Lord Spencer had liberal views in the literal
acceptation of the word, and stoutly opposed many measures which he
considered arbitrary that emanated from the Throne; and the Parliament,
which was now beginning to assume the executive, had great hopes of the
young lord, and believed that they had bound him to their side when he
accepted the Lord-Lieutenancy of his native county which they offered
him. But Lord Spencer came of a loyal stock, and there is little doubt
he cherished the hope of mediating between the King and his Parliament,
in which expectation he had many sharers amongst the nobility and gentry
of the land. He strove all he could to be a ‘daysman’ between the two
factions, but finding that his admonitions to the Parliament when they
broke out into open rebellion were of no avail, he proclaimed himself
stoutly for the King; and in the early and blissful days of his married
life he tore himself from the embrace of his beautiful wife and the calm
happiness of his ancestral home, to mix in the noise, turmoil, and
danger of a camp, in company with his kinsman and countyman, the gallant
Spencer Compton, Earl of Northampton, who was destined to fall at Hopton
Heath. Lord Spencer joined the King at York, and when the royal standard
was unfurled at Nottingham, he took the field as a volunteer. In his
constant letters to his ‘dearest harte,’ he gives a melancholy picture
of the perplexed and unsatisfactory state of affairs in the royal army.
He says: ‘The discontent that I and other honest men receive dayly is
beyond expression,’ and he declares ‘that were it not for the punctilio
of honour’ he would not ‘remaine an howre.’
Lord Spencer was with the King at Edgehill, and with Prince Rupert at
Bristol, etc. etc., and in 1643 he was raised to the dignity of Earl of
Sunderland. He writes a long and most loving letter to his sweetest Doll
from before Gloucester, and thanks her for her letters, ‘writing to you
and hearing from you being the most pleasant entertainment I am capable
of receiving in anie place, but especially here, where, but when I am in
the trenches (which are seldom without my company), I am more solitarie
than ever I was in mie life.’ In another letter written from Oxford in
September 1643, he thus speaks of his little daughter: ‘Pray bless Popet
for me, and tell her I would have writt to her, but on deliberation I
deem it uncivil to return an answer to a ladie in anie other characters
but her own, and that I am not learned enough to do.’ Alas! the brave
soldier was never more destined to enjoy his wife’s dear company, or
clasp his sweet Popet to his heart. Four days after that letter was
penned, the writer was struck down by a cannon ball on the field of
Newbury, in company with his friend and brother in arms, ‘the
incomparable Falkland,’ and many other brave and loyal spirits. For
twelve months Lord Sunderland had fought beside the King, as a
volunteer, for he never would accept a commission. There is a most
touching letter extant from Lord Leicester to his widowed daughter,
which our limited space alone prevents our inserting here. The fair
hopes contained in her old admirer Waller’s letter, written at the time
of her marriage, to her sister, Lady Lucy Sidney, were far from being
fulfilled. After wishing the couple every happiness, he says, ‘May her
lord not mourn her long, but go hand in hand with her to that place
where is neither marrying nor giving in marriage, but being divorced, we
may all have an equal interest in her.’ There spoke the disappointed and
jealous lover. Lady Sunderland was with child of a daughter at the
period of her lord’s untimely death, who scarcely survived its birth.
She retired to her husband’s estate in Northamptonshire, where she made
herself generally beloved. ‘She is not to be mentioned,’ says Lloyd in
his Memoirs of the Loyalists, ‘without the highest honour, in the
catalogue of sufferers, to so many of whom her house was a sanctuary,
her interest a protection, her estate a maintenance.’ Influenced, it is
said, by her father’s wishes, she contracted a second marriage in 1652
to Sir Robert Smythe, of the family of the Lords Strangford, a gentleman
of Kent, but was again left a widow; she survived Sir Robert some time,
and, we are told, she continued to see her old flame Waller, to whom she
one day put the dangerous question—‘Pray, Master Waller, when will you
write such pretty verses to me again?’ Was it the sting of old
mortification which prompted the cruel answer, ‘When your ladyship is
young and beautiful again’? By her first husband Lady Sunderland had two
children, Robert, the second Earl,—the Minister of whom the anecdote is
told that when Addison intrusted Edmund Smith with the task of writing a
history of the Revolution of 1688, the proposed author asked the
staggering question, ‘What shall I do with the character of Lord
Sunderland?’ and a daughter, Dorothy, who married Sir George Saville,
afterwards Marquis of Halifax. By her second husband she had an only
child, Robert, Governor of Dover Castle. Lady Sunderland lies buried by
the side of her dearly loved Henry in a beautiful monument, in the
Spencer chapel, in the church of Brington, hard by Althorp House, and in
that house her name is still a household word; and Saccharissa’s bed,
the curtains of which, having her embroidered monogram of S twisting
round columns, may still be seen in one of the principal guest-chambers.
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No. 7. CHARLES THE FIRST, KING OF ENGLAND.
_Front face and two profiles._
BORN 1600, SUCCEEDED 1625, EXECUTED 1649.
BY CARLO MARATTI AFTER VANDYCK.
THE second son of James the First, by Anne of Denmark. Married Henrietta
Maria of France. Dethroned and beheaded by his subjects. The original of
this picture by Vandyck, now at Windsor Castle, was sent to Rome to
Bernini, in order that he might make a bust from the same; Carlo Maratti
copied the picture while in the sculptor’s studio. On first beholding
the beautiful and noble head, the sculptor is said to have exclaimed,
‘That is the portrait of one who is born to misfortune.’
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No. 12. VENETIAN COURTESAN.
BY TITIAN.
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No. 14. EDWARD SEYMOUR, FIRST DUKE OF SOMERSET, THE PROTECTOR.
_Tight-fitting vest. Black hat._
EXECUTED 1552.
BY HOLBEIN.
THE second but eldest surviving son of Sir John Seymour, of Wulfhall,
County Wilts, by Margaret, daughter of Sir John Wentworth of Nettlested,
County Suffolk. He was educated at Oxford and Cambridge, and joining his
father, who was in high favour at Court, entered the army, distinguished
himself in France, and was knighted for his services in 1525. On his
return to England he was appointed Esquire to the King, and was one of
the challengers in the tilt-yard at Greenwich, when Henry the Eighth
kept his Christmas there.
On the King’s marriage with his sister, Jane Seymour, Edward was created
Viscount Beauchamp, and in 1537 Earl of Hertford. He was then sent to
France on a mission, and was created Knight Companion of the Garter, at
Hampton Court, on his return. From this time his life became most
eventful. He proceeded twice to Scotland, high in command, and again to
France, where he was instrumental in concluding a peace with that
country. Honours and distinctions too many to enumerate were heaped on
the King’s brother-in-law, even after the death of poor Queen Jane. He
was one of the many executors of Henry the Eighth, by whose will he was
appointed guardian to the young King, and so prompt were his measures
and so successful his ambitious and self-seeking policy that when the
nephew was proclaimed King in London, the uncle was appointed Protector
of the realm. He already bore the titles of Earl and Viscount, and
Edward the Sixth, not content with adding the title of Baron, bestowed a
ducal coronet upon him, in order that the name of that family, ‘from
which our most beloved mother Jane, late Queen of England, drew her
beginning, might not be clouded by any higher title or colour of
dignity.’ Thus ran the words of the patent. When the Duke of Norfolk was
attainted, the Protector was made Earl Marshal for life. His power now
became almost absolute, and the boy King, delighted to do his uncle
honour, elected that he should sit on the right hand of the throne.
Indeed Somerset was now king in all but name, and his enemies, of whom
there were many, accused him of aspiring to the Crown in good earnest.
It was alleged against him that he used the royal pronoun ‘we,’ and
signed himself ‘Protector by the grace of God.’ But the life of
Protector Somerset belongs to the chronicles of the history of England.
Numerous factions rose up against him, at the head of which were the
Earl of Warwick, his sworn enemy, and his own ungrateful brother,
Thomas, Lord Seymour of Sudley. Many charges were brought against him;
he was deprived of all his high offices, and imprisoned in the Tower.
The young King, who loved him dearly, had little power to befriend his
uncle, whose estates were forfeited, and he was treated with insult and
contumely. The Earl of Warwick was bent on his destruction. Arraigned of
high treason at Westminster Hall, he demanded a trial of his peers, was
acquitted of the principal charge, but found guilty of felony, and after
several months’ imprisonment, in spite of every attempt on King Edward’s
part, Edward Seymour, Duke of Somerset, was condemned to die on the
scaffold. On reaching the platform, he kneeled in prayer, and afterwards
addressed the people, with the majority of whom he was a great
favourite, in calm and measured terms, declaring his innocence, his
loyalty to the King, and his love of his native country. A tumult took
place among the people, and a horseman appearing suddenly in the crowd,
a cry was raised of ‘A pardon! a pardon!’ But all the time his
arch-enemy, Lord Warwick (or rather Northumberland, as he then was),
stood by untouched, shaking his cap and making signs to the people to be
quiet. We have not space to make extracts from a dying speech, which for
manliness, forbearance, and piety could scarcely be surpassed. The Duke,
unbuckling his sword, presented it to the Lieutenant of the Tower, gave
the executioner money, bade all near him farewell, and then kneeling
down, arranged his collar and covered his face, which showed ‘no signs
of trouble,’ with his handkerchief. Laying his head upon the block, he
called out thrice ‘Lord Jesu, save me,’ and then received the
death-stroke.
Edward, first Duke of Somerset, was twice married. First, to Catherine,
daughter and co-heir of Sir William Fillol, of Woodlands, County Dorset,
respecting whom there exists a mystery and rumours of misconduct.
Certain it is that her son was disinherited. There seems little doubt,
at all events, that the Duke’s second wife, the daughter of Sir Edward
Stanhope, of Bampton, County Dorset, an ambitious and violent woman,
worked on her husband’s mind, to the detriment of her predecessor’s
children, in spite of which the coveted titles devolved after some
generations on Catherine Fillol’s descendants, ancestors in direct line
to the present Duke of Somerset.
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No. 16. PORTRAIT OF A LADY. UNKNOWN.
BY LUCAS CRANACH.
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No. 18. PORTRAIT OF A LADY WITH A MONKEY.
BY PARIS BORDONE (?).
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No. 22. PORTRAIT OF A CHILD.
BY PAUL VERONESE.
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No. 23. ANTHONY VANDYCK
_As Paris._
BORN 1599, DIED 1641.
AFTER VANDYCK.
THE eldest son of a merchant in Antwerp (himself a painter in glass), by
one Maria Cuypero. Little Anthony’s mother was a skilful artist in
embroidery, and encouraged her boy’s taste for drawing, in the rudiments
of which he received instruction from his father. When only ten years of
age he became the pupil of Hendrik van Balen, a much-esteemed painter,
who had studied in Italy; but young Vandyck had set his heart on
entering the studio of his famous fellow-citizen, Peter Paul Rubens, and
that desire was fulfilled. His remarkable talent and untiring industry
made him a favourite both of master and scholars, when an incident
happened which brought him into prominent notice. It chanced one
afternoon, when Rubens was absent, that the scholars invaded the
sanctity of the private studio, and, in the exuberance of animal
spirits, indulged in what in modern parlance is called ‘bear-fighting.’
An unfinished Holy Family stood on an easel, the colours not yet dry,
and, in the course of the rough play, one of his companions pushed Van
Diepenbeke so heavily against the precious canvas that the arm of the
Magdalen and the head of the Virgin were nearly effaced, and all the
colours smudged. The general consternation may easily be conceived. A
council was held, and a general decision arrived at that the most
skilful among the students should endeavour to repair the mischief.
Unanimous choice fell on Vandyck, who began to work in right earnest,
for there was not a moment to lose. There were but a few hours of
daylight left him, but he accomplished his task before nightfall. Early
next morning the dreaded moment arrived. Rubens entered his studio in
order to examine the work of the preceding evening, when he pronounced
the memorable words which seemed to bestow a diploma on his young
disciple: ‘Why, this looks better than it did yesterday!’ Then,
approaching nearer, he detected the traces of a strange hand.
Investigation and explanation followed, and Vandyck came in for great
praise from the lips of his beloved master. Rubens was most desirous
that his talented pupil should proceed to Italy to study the works of
the great masters, but in the meantime the young man had received an
invitation to England. The first visit he paid to our country was short
and unsatisfactory, and there are so many discrepancies in the accounts
of the work he did at that period and his reasons for leaving England
somewhat abruptly, that we refrain from entering further on the subject.
From England Vandyck proceeded to the Hague, where he painted portraits
of every class and denomination of person, commencing with the Court and
family of the Stadtholder, Henry Frederick. Nobles, warriors, statesmen,
burghers, all vied for the honour of sitting to him. The news of his
father’s illness recalled him to Antwerp. He arrived just in time to
receive that father’s blessing, and listen to his last injunctions,
which included an order to paint an altar for the Chapel of the
Dominican Sisters, who had nursed him tenderly in his illness. After
many delays from various causes Vandyck arrived in Venice, where he
studied Titian and Veronese, and afterwards proceeded to Genoa, where he
became the favourite of the proudest nobles of that proud city, and
adorned almost every palace therein with splendid portraits. At Rome he
remained some years; the first order he received being that of the
world-renowned portrait of Cardinal Bentivoglio, which attracted a crowd
of sitters to his studio, including all the nobility of the city and
most of the foreign visitors. He then made his way to Florence and most
of the northern cities of Italy, with a flying visit to Sicily, whence
he was driven by the outbreak of the plague. He returned to Antwerp,
where he at first shared the proverbial fate of the prophet in his own
country, and met with much ill-will and small patronage, until his old
friend Rubens came to his rescue by buying every completed picture in
his late scholar’s studio, and recommending and befriending him on every
occasion. Shortly afterwards Rubens departed from Antwerp on a
diplomatic mission, and he left Vandyck undisputed master of the field.
His hands were now full; he received endless commissions both in
portraits and sacred subjects. He afterwards went to Paris, and paid two
visits to England; the second time he was received at Court with every
mark of distinction. Charles the First treated the noble Fleming as a
personal friend, taking the greatest delight in his society. He became
the centre of attraction, and the cynosure of all eyes. Pre-eminently
handsome, brilliant in conversation, a good linguist, an enlightened
traveller—even without the crowning quality of his splendid talent, the
painter became a shining light in the refined and aristocratic circles
of the English capital. The King bestowed the honour of knighthood on
him, and presented him with a valuable miniature of himself set in
diamonds. Both their Majesties sat constantly for their portraits, and
it is needless to observe that every country house in England is
enriched by treasures from the brush of Vandyck. The King and the Duke
of Buckingham were busy in arranging a suitable match for their friend
and favourite. The lady selected was Mary Ruthven, a member of the
Queen’s household, and grand-daughter of the unfortunate Earl Gowrie,
much esteemed for her goodness and beauty, who visited Antwerp with her
husband shortly after their marriage, where they were received with
every mark of respect and distinction. After this they went to Paris,
where Vandyck met with disappointment, and fell into bad health, and on
his return to England he found that country in a state of confusion and
political strife, his royal and private friends involved in trouble and
perplexity, the King and Queen both absent from London, and the
Parliament in arms against the Crown. Sir Anthony’s health declined,
both physically and morally. He gave himself up to the pursuit of
alchemy, and would stand for hours over a hot fire in the vain hope of
obtaining the philosopher’s stone; He grew haggard and wrinkled while
still in the prime of life. The King, returning to London, and hearing
of his friend’s illness, sent his own physician, but all human aid was
unavailing. A severe attack of gout, combined with other maladies,
proved fatal, and on the 9th of December 1641, the man who by many has
been considered the chief of the world’s portrait painters breathed his
last. Followed by a large retinue of friends, he was buried in St.
Paul’s Cathedral, leaving a most exemplary will, in which wife, child,
sister, servants, were all remembered, as also the poor in two parishes.
He left an only daughter, Justiniana, who married Sir John Stepney of
Prendergast, Pembroke, and afterwards Martin de Carbonnell. She received
a pension from King Charles the Second.
Lady Vandyck married a Welsh baronet, Sir Robert Pryce, as his second
wife.
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No. 25. PORTRAIT OF A CHILD.
BY PAUL VERONESE.
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No. 26. SIR NICHOLAS CAREW.
_Black and white dress._
BEHEADED 1539.
BY HOLBEIN.
THE Carews came of an ancient family in Devonshire, but the branch to
which Sir Nicholas belonged had settled at Beddington, in Surrey, an
estate that had come into their possession by marriage.