thoughts to financial reform. He reduced the annual expenditure,
inquired into all the abuses of Government sinecures, and though he had
a worthy kinsman to whom he was much attached, he eschewed nepotism; he
also watched over the state of the money market, and after the lapse of
a few years, his efforts were rewarded by a great increase of the public
revenue. Innocent showed himself a firm opponent of Louis XIV., when
that King encroached, as His Holiness deemed, on spiritual privileges.
He embraced the cause of the Jansenist priests who had fallen under the
displeasure of the ‘Grand Monarque’ for withstanding some of the decrees
they considered arbitrary, more especially on the long-vexed question of
the ‘Regale.’ They appealed to the Pope, who wrote once, and yet twice,
to the King on the subject, admonishing him not to listen to flatterers,
and not to lay hands on the immunities of the Church, lest by so doing,
he should ‘dry up the fountains of divine grace from his kingdom.’
Finding his homilies of no avail, Innocent spoke out more boldly still,
assuring Louis that he ‘would suffer no storm nor danger to appal him,
but would use every resource of that power he held at the hands of God’
to resist his injustice. But so completely were the mass of the French
clergy enslaved by His Majesty that the Prince de Condé was used to say
that if Louis chose to go over to the Protestant faith, the priests
would be the first to follow him. Therefore they feared to stand by the
Pope, who had defended their rights so zealously, and the ‘Declarations’
that were published from year to year increased and strengthened the
royal authority in spiritual concerns.
This was especially manifest in the Articles of the Convocation of 1682;
but the Pope was not easily disheartened. To those members of the
Declaration whom Louis had preferred before all other candidates for
Episcopal offices, Innocent denied spiritual institution. They might
indeed receive the revenues of the sees, but ordination was refused
them, neither could they exercise one spiritual act of their office.
About this time, the King, it was said, thought to ingratiate himself
with the Holy See by his cruel persecutions of the Huguenots, but such
measures were not calculated to please a man of Odescalchi’s character,
and fresh disputes arose. One of the abuses which the Pope had
endeavoured to abolish in Rome was the ‘right of asylum,’ as it was
called, hitherto claimed by foreign Ambassadors. Not only on their
arrival in the imperial city had they a palace assigned them, but
quarters for innumerable hangers-on, in several adjacent streets. The
Emperor, the King of Spain, and others, had listened to the
remonstrances of His Holiness, and waived their claim to these
unreasonable privileges; but Louis was glad of a fresh opportunity to
oppose the Pope, boasting that he was not in the habit of following the
example of others.
Accordingly, he sent his Ambassador, with a considerable armed force, to
demand the rights of ‘asylum’ in the name of his royal master. The
formidable array brought no fear to the brave heart of Benedetto
Odescalchi. ‘They come with horses and chariots,’ he said, ‘but we will
walk in the name of the Lord.’ The French emissary was excommunicated,
and the Church of St. Louis (the patron saint of France), where he
attended mass, was placed under interdict.
Reprisals were now the order of the day. The Papal Nuncio was detained a
prisoner in Paris, many French bishops deprived of their canonical
institutions, a territory of the Holy See occupied by France; in fact,
daggers drawn! But other Powers besides Rome were jealous of the
encroachments and arrogance of the French monarch, and Innocent allied
himself with them from political motives. He made a friend of Austria,
by assisting her with subsidies in the war with Turkey, and he incurred
blame from some of the Catholic bystanders by an alliance with the
Protestant Prince William of Orange. The plea was, that William had
undertaken the command of the Rhine, and would defend not only the
rights of the Empire, but also those of the Church, against Louis XIV.
Be this as it may, it seems strange that the Pope should perhaps
unwittingly have assisted in the elevation of the enemy of James II., to
whose son he had stood godfather. But if the head of the Roman Catholic
Church proved indirectly instrumental in furthering the Protestant cause
in England, the Protestants, on their side, by maintaining the balance
of power in Europe, did His Holiness a good turn. Innocent died soon
after these events, leaving behind him a character for courage and
steadfastness, combined with great humility and gentleness of manners.
As we have already said, he was remarkable for the purity of his morals,
and made himself very unpopular with the women of all classes by
denouncing, in no measured terms, the indecency of dress and laxity of
manners, which were (he considered) unusually prevalent in his reign. He
was much opposed to the sect of the Quietists, and confirmed the
sentence of the Inquisition against their unfortunate founder Molinos,
who was imprisoned, and eventually died in the cells of that dread
institution. He was but a poor scholar, and his secretaries were obliged
to translate or turn into Italian, all Latin documents with which he had
to deal.
Innocent XI. was charitable to the poor, and much beloved, especially by
his dependants, of whose wellbeing he was most careful. He died in the
month of August 1689, and the Roman people flocked round his tomb,
invoking him as a saint, and disputing with each other any available
relic of their favourite Pontiff.
[Illustration]
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[Illustration]
_GREAT STAIRCASE_.
[Illustration]
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GREAT STAIRCASE.
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No. 77.
GEORGE VILLIERS, SECOND DUKE OF
BUCKINGHAM.
BY SIR PETER LELY.
BORN 1627, DIED 1688.
_Steel cuirass. Buff leather coat. Black and white sleeves. One hand
resting on a helmet. Red plume._
HE was the second son of the first Duke of Buckingham, (of the Villiers
family,) by Catherine, daughter and sole heir of Francis Manners, sixth
Earl of Rutland. No sooner did Charles I. learn the news of the murder
of his friend (the first Duke) than he hastened to the residence of the
sorrowing widow, to pay her a visit of condolence; the little Duke being
then but an infant, and his mother expecting her confinement. The King,
much touched by her sad position, said all he could to comfort her, and
promised to be a father to her children; nor did he forget to fulfil the
self-imposed trust. At the proper age, George Villiers was sent to
Cambridge, and afterwards to travel abroad, accompanied by his brother
Francis, under the care of a tutor provided for them by their royal
guardian. On the breaking out of the civil war the two youths returned
to England, and hastened to proffer their services to their Sovereign, a
proceeding which brought down upon them the vengeance of the Parliament.
Their property was confiscated, but in consideration of their youth the
estates and revenues were soon restored to them. Poverty was ill suited
to the splendid tastes, and profuse style of living, which characterised
the Duke, on his second trip abroad, or indeed wherever he went, and in
later life he was in constant pecuniary difficulties.
The war broke out afresh between Charles and his subjects; he was a
prisoner in the Isle of Wight, when the loyal brothers returned home,
and joined the Royalist army, under the Earl of Holland, who had
unfurled his standard in the county of Surrey. Lord Holland was
quartered at Kingston-on-Thames, and it was on the 11th of July 1648
that Lord Francis Villiers, ‘after performing prodigies of valour,’ was
killed in a skirmish with the Parliamentarians near Nonsuch, to the
sincere regret of his comrades and the inexpressible grief of his
brother. ‘He was a youth,’ says Clarendon, ‘of rare beauty and
comeliness of person.’
The expedition proved most disastrous; Lord Holland himself was taken
prisoner shortly after, near St. Neot’s, and beheaded, the Duke of
Buckingham narrowly escaping the same fate. He contrived to conceal
himself, but one morning, finding the house in which he lay, surrounded
by a troop of the enemy’s cavalry (with the dashing bravery which always
characterised him), he leaped on his horse, and followed by one faithful
servant, cut his way through the troopers, killing the officer in
command, and gained the sea-shore, where he joined the Prince of Wales,
who was on board a vessel lying in the Downs. A proclamation was issued
by the Parliament, to the effect that if the Duke did not return in
forty days, his property would a second time be forfeited.
Buckingham stood the test, and remained faithful to his allegiance. He
lived for some time on the proceeds of a sale of magnificent pictures
bequeathed to him by the Duke, his father (the chief part once the
property of Rubens), which he disposed of at Antwerp. He remained abroad
for some time, but accompanied his King on the expedition to Scotland,
and after the battle of Worcester had another of his ‘hair-breadth
‘scapes,’ almost as miraculous as that of his royal master.
After leaving the King concealed in Boscobel House, the Duke, with other
Royalist nobles, rode northward, and were intercepted by a body of
Roundheads (who took many of them prisoners). Buckingham, according to
his wont, escaped, by the aid of some friendly labourers and workmen,
with one of whom he changed habits, and was concealed in a wood. He
afterwards went from one house in the neighbourhood to another, and
again made his way to the Continent in safety, first to Holland, and
then to France, where he gained fresh laurels by his conduct at the
sieges of Arras and Valenciennes.
Buckingham now resolved on a bold and daring step. The Parliament had
awarded the chief part of his estates and revenues to General Lord
Fairfax, but this noble-minded man had already set apart a considerable
portion for the service of the widowed Duchess; and the Duke (although
an outlaw) deemed it politic to return to England and appeal to the
further generosity of ‘my Lord Fairfax.’ He repaired, then, forthwith to
the home of his ancestors, ingratiated himself not only into the
favourable feelings of the father, but still more into those of the
daughter.
The handsome and irresistible George Villiers was not likely to sue long
in vain; he proposed, was accepted, and became the son-in-law of the man
who was in possession of his rent-roll. Cromwell, on hearing of the
marriage, was exasperated beyond measure, and the Duke was again forced
to go into hiding. Most likely this was not difficult, surrounded by his
own tenantry, with the assistance of a loving bride; but he was rash,
and doubtless trusted to his own talent for evading danger; and so one
day, riding to visit his sister in the neighbourhood, he was waylaid,
taken prisoner, and carried off to the Tower.
Fairfax, already disgusted with many of Cromwell’s proceedings, was
furious, and expressed himself boldly. But the Protector was not one to
listen patiently to any strictures on his own conduct, and laughed the
General to scorn. Fortunately for the captive, Cromwell did not survive
much longer, and on the abdication of Richard Cromwell the Duke regained
his liberty. At the Restoration he was marked out for favour by the
King, to whose fortunes he had been so faithful; he was made
Lord-in-Waiting, Lord-Lieutenant of York, Master of the Horse, etc. etc.
But his restless and intriguing spirit led him into many dangerous
plots, so much so that in 1666 he was deprived of all his offices, and
summoned to take his trial. The King came to the rescue, and caused him
to be reinstated in many of his posts. Buckingham joined Lord
Shaftesbury against Clarendon, became President of the Council, and his
initial, as is well known, stood for the third letter of ‘Cabal.’
In 1670 he was sent Ambassador to the King of France, ostensibly to
condole with him on the death of the Duchess of Orleans, but in reality
with the project of breaking ‘The Triple Alliance.’ About this time
there was an attempt on the life of the Duke of Ormonde by one Blood,
and Lord Ossory (Ormonde’s son) accused the Duke of Buckingham of being
an accomplice of the villain. His plea was that his father was a friend
of Lord Clarendon’s, to whom Buckingham had vowed deadly enmity, but the
charge soon fell to the ground.
Buckingham was one of the Plenipotentiaries (with the Earl of Arlington
and others) to Holland, but the negotiations with which they were
intrusted, failed. The Cabal breaking up, the Duke once more found
himself accused of many heavy charges,—of treasonable correspondence
with the King’s enemies, and the like.
He also made himself obnoxious to his royal master by the part he took
respecting the Test Bill, and above all, by maintaining that the King
had exceeded his royal prerogative in proroguing the Parliament for a
longer time than was legal. He was sent to the Tower, and when once more
liberated, mixed himself up (with a restlessness he doubtless called
patriotism) in fresh plots and cabals. On the death of Charles II., the
Duke of Buckingham, well aware that he could not expect the same
indulgence from King James as from his predecessor, retired to the
country (being in failing health at the time), and gave himself up to
literary occupations and the sports of the field. One day, while intent
on unearthing a fox, he was imprudent enough to sit for some time on the
damp ground, in consequence of which he caught a chill that proved fatal
in three days. His wife, who long survived him, was a most exemplary
woman, who loved him in spite of his numerous and flagrant infidelities.
They had no children, and the title became extinct.
The witty, handsome, profligate Duke of Buckingham is a well-known
acquaintance to all readers, both of history and fiction. His manners
were genial, even captivating; his anger or revenge generally vented
itself in pointed satires or pungent _bon-mots_. Dryden immortalised him
as Zimri in ‘Absalom and Achitophel.’ Pope drew his portrait in the
_Moral Essays_ (Epist. iii.); his love for astrology and alchemy helped
him to squander his living, but all his tastes were extravagant. His
comedy of ‘The Rehearsal’ (in which, however, he is supposed to have
been much assisted by friends) made a great noise, and his delineation
of Dryden under the character of Bayes was much admired.
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No. 78.
CATHERINE CAREY, COUNTESS OF
NOTTINGHAM.
DIED IN 1603.
_Black dress. White lace cap. Ruff and cuffs. Black veil.
Holding a glove._
THE daughter of Henry Carey, Lord Hunsdon, who was first cousin to Queen
Elizabeth his mother being Mary Boleyn. Nor did ‘her Grace disdain to
call him cousin,’ and her visit to Hunsdon House is immortalised in a
painting (engraved) by Mark Gerrard, where she is carried in procession.
The picture contains many portraits, including Lord and Lady Hunsdon,
and Catherine, their daughter, the subject of this notice.
Grainger, speaking of Lord Hunsdon in his usually quaint manner, tells
us ‘he was of a soldierly disposition, and a great seller of bargains to
the maids of honour,’ and the Queen esteemed him much, and offered to
create him an Earl on his deathbed, which somewhat tardy dignity he
refused.
Catherine married the gallant Charles Howard, Lord High Admiral of
England, whose name is invariably connected with the glorious defeat of
the Spanish Armada. He was first created Baron of Effingham, and
afterwards Earl of Nottingham; and it was to his wife that the
unfortunate Essex intrusted the ring which Elizabeth had given him in
the height of his favour, with the promise that whatever crime he should
commit, she would pardon, provided he returned the pledge.
The story connected with this ring has been so often and so variously
told, so many times asserted and disbelieved, that we might be tempted
to let the subject pass in silence were it not for the fact that the
actual relic is in the possession of Lord John Thynne, uncle of the
present Marquis of Bath, (1879,) and therefore claims a comment in these
pages. We subjoin what appears to us the most authentic account:—
Not very long before the death of Queen Elizabeth, she being then in
failing health, and much depressed in mind, after the execution of her
favourite, Her Majesty received a message from the Countess of
Nottingham (one of the ladies of her household, and a connection of her
own), to say that she lay a-dying, but that she had something on her
mind which she would fain impart to the Queen before her death.
Elizabeth lost no time in repairing to the house of the Earl of
Nottingham, and taking her place by the sufferer’s bedside, listened to
the following confession. When Lord Essex lay under sentence of death,
he bethought himself of the Queen’s present, and the promise which
accompanied it, and he began to devise means how to send it to his royal
mistress. He dared not trust any one near him, but watching from the
window, he perceived a boy, whose appearance inspired him with
confidence. He contrived to get speech of him, and induced him, by means
of money and promises, to be the bearer of the ring, which he drew from
his finger and intrusted to him. The Earl’s injunctions were that it
should be carried to his friend Lady Scrope, (one of the royal
household, and sister to the Lady Nottingham,) with the earnest request
that she would present it to the Queen.
The boy, by some unfortunate mistake, carried the ring to the Countess
of Nottingham, who immediately consulted her husband on the subject. It
is further said (although it may appear inconsistent with the character
of the gallant sailor for generosity) that he peremptorily forbade his
wife to undertake the mission, or to interfere in the matter. Yet we are
also told that on the downfall of Essex, Lord Nottingham evinced the
greatest friendship for the man with whom he had once been at enmity,
visiting him in prison, and the like. Certain it is that the lady whose
conscience was so ill at rest, screened herself under the prohibition of
her husband, who, she added, insisted on her keeping the ring, and
returning no answer to the unfortunate captive. The secret being
divulged, the dying woman entreated the Queen to pardon her. The answer
she gave is well known: ‘God may forgive you, but I never can;’ and she
left the room in a fury.
Strange, if she believed that Lord Nottingham was in fault, that Her
Majesty should not only forgive him, but keep him constantly in her
presence, in her last days, (for she did not survive this scene above a
fortnight,) talking with him on matters of the greatest importance, and
sometimes accepting nourishment and medicine from his hand, which she
would refuse from that of others.
Lady Nottingham died soon after the stormy interview with the Queen,
having borne two sons and three daughters to her husband. It would
appear that the cause of the doubt and perplexity which have been thrown
over the romantic story of the Essex ring, can be accounted for in this
manner: The fact is there were two historical rings, and the Carey
family were connected with both, as also, to make the confusion more
complete, the name of Lady Scrope, born Carey, is mixed up with both.
When Queen Elizabeth was dying, Robert Carey, Earl of Monmouth, was
stationed on horseback under the window, and no sooner was the Queen’s
last breath expended, than a lady (said to be Lady Scrope) threw a ring
from the window, with which Monmouth rode post-haste to Scotland, it
being a pledge agreed upon between King James and a member of
Elizabeth’s Court, to inform him, betimes, of the death of the English
Queen. This ring is a sapphire, and in the possession of the Earl of
Cork and Orrery, to whom it descended by inheritance.
Two rings, both secret pledges, and with both of which the names of
Queen Elizabeth and Lady Scrope are connected, it no longer appears
strange that confusion and perplexity should have arisen on the subject.
The ring in the possession of Lord John Thynne has a gold hoop of
delicate workmanship engraved, and relieved with blue enamel. The centre
is an onyx, with a cameo head of Queen Elizabeth, a perfect likeness, in
relief, and is surmised to have been the work of Valerio Vincentino, an
Italian artist of great merit, who executed several works of the kind,
for the Queen, Lord Burghley, and others. There is no record to inform
us how this ring returned into the possession of the Devereux family.
But it seems more than likely that Lady Nottingham, or her husband, may
have bequeathed or restored it to the rightful owners. It descended to
the present possessor in unbroken succession from the Duchess of
Somerset, Frances Devereux, Essex’s daughter, who was grandmother to the
first Lady Weymouth.
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No. 79.
SIR HENRY SIDNEY.
_Full length. Black dress. White ruff. High hat on table._
HE was the son of Sir William Sidney, Chamberlain to Henry VIII., and
was born at Penshurst, a royal grant from Edward VI. to the family.
Henry became the bosom friend of the young King, who knighted him, and
sent him as Ambassador to France when only twenty-one. Sir Henry was
much admired and esteemed at the Courts of France and England. His
friend, King Edward, expired in his arms. He also found favour in the
eyes of Queen Mary, after whose husband he named his son Philip. She
made him Vice-Treasurer and general governor of the royal revenues in
Ireland, also Lord Deputy of that country, where his administration was
more than commonly popular, considering the state of the times. In the
reign of Elizabeth he was appointed Lord President of Wales, and he
placed his son Philip at school at Shrewsbury, so as to be near him. The
boy was delicate in health, and extant letters prove his father’s tender
solicitude for the bodily and mental education of his first-born. Sir
Henry Sidney married Lady Mary Dudley, the daughter of the Duke of
Northumberland—a woman of ‘rare merit.’ Later on in years, when leading
‘a quiet and contented life at home,’ a proposal was made to him to
resume the government of Ireland, on which subject he consulted his son
Philip: would he accompany him with the hope of succeeding to the post
when he should vacate it? etc. etc., but he made so many stipulations
and conditions to the Queen, dependent on his acceptance, that the
matter fell through, probably from the fact of Elizabeth declining to be
dictated to, though here we speak without book. Sir Henry Sidney shone
in domestic as in public life, and his wife was worthy of her husband.
They both died in 1586, within a few months of each other, Sir Henry
being buried at Penshurst, though his heart was lodged at Ludlow.
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No. 80.
SIR WALTER RALEIGH.
BY ZUCCHERO.
BORN 1552, EXECUTED 1618.
_Full length. White and scarlet dress. Scarlet garters and rosettes.
Brown
trunk hose. White hat. Ruff and sash._
HE was the younger son of Walter Raleigh, Esq. of Cornwood, near
Plymouth, by his third wife, daughter of Sir Philip Champernon, and
widow of Otho Gilbert.
At sixteen Walter went to Oriel College for a year, and left it with a
good character for study. In 1569 he became a volunteer in a troop
raised by a relative, Henry Champernon, attached to the expedition which
Elizabeth was sending out to the relief of the Huguenots in France. He
was engaged in this campaign five years, and in 1577 he served in the
Low Countries; in the following year he embarked with his half-brother,
Sir Humphrey Gilbert, who had obtained a patent from the Queen, to
colonise North America. This expedition failed. The English were
attacked, and defeated on the high seas by a superior force of
Spaniards.
On Raleigh’s return to England he found that an insurrection had just
broken out in Ireland; thither he proceeded, and soon gave token not
only of his courage, but of his capacity for military command.