he placed the crown on the head of Charles II. During the short period
of his Archbishopric, Juxon enlarged and improved Lambeth and Croydon
Palaces, and greatly ameliorated the clerical state of the See. He died
of a painful disease in 1663, and was interred with great pomp in St.
John’s College, Oxford, near the tomb of his friend and patron,
Archbishop Laud. He left considerable sums to be laid out in Fellowships
for his favourite College, and many charitable bequests. His reputation
for moderation, piety, learning, and unswerving loyalty can scarcely be
questioned. Not many of his genuine writings are extant.
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No. 118.
WILLIAM LAUD, ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY.
By VANDYCK.
BORN 1573, BEHEADED 1645.
_In Bishop’s robes_.
SON of a clothier at Reading. Became Fellow of St. John’s College,
Oxford, and afterwards took Orders. Was very vehement; very much opposed
to the Puritans; had many different livings; named chaplain to James I.,
whom he accompanied to Scotland. Was Prebendary of Westminster;
consecutively Bishop of St. David’s, Bath and Wells, and London, and
subsequently Prime Minister, and Archbishop of Canterbury. In 1622 he
held a famous conference with Fisher the Jesuit, in the presence of the
Duke of Buckingham and his mother, who were wavering in their allegiance
to the Protestant faith, and were fixed therein by the eloquence of
Laud. Yet it was said of him that he was more than once tempted to
abjure his religion by the offer of a Cardinal’s Hat; each time,
however, he gave an emphatic denial. He was very strict respecting the
revision and licensing of published books by high ecclesiastical
authority, and was concerned in several prosecutions of the Star-Chamber
against Bishop Williams, the Master of Westminster School, etc. etc.
When the Parliament was abruptly dissolved in 1639, Laud was attacked in
his palace at Lambeth by the mob. He had indeed made himself unpopular
with the people at large, and with the House of Commons; and on the
accusation of Sir Henry Vane, he was sent to the Tower in 1641, where he
was detained three years, and treated with great severity. In 1644 he
was tried, and though the treasonable charges were not proved, the bill
of attainder was passed. He made an eloquent defence; but all in vain.
The execution of Strafford was the forerunner of his own, and he
suffered death on Tower Hill, displaying great courage. Clarendon says:
‘Such learning, piety, and virtue have been attained by few, and the
greatest of his infirmities are common to all men.’
Of all the prelates of the Anglican Church, Lord Macaulay says, Laud
departed furthest from the principles of the Reformation, and nearest to
Rome. He hated Calvinism, loved forms and ceremonies, and advocated
celibacy among the clergy, all of which opinions made him an object of
abhorrence to the Puritans, and there was no love lost. Every corner of
the realm, every separate congregation, nay, it was said the private
devotions of individuals, were subjected to the supervision of his
spies. Unfortunately for himself and the country, Charles was influenced
in all public matters by the precepts of the Primate. He was a staunch
friend, a genial companion, shrewd and witty, and fond of field sports.
In fact, all his tastes and qualities endeared him to Lord Strafford, as
we have mentioned in the notice of that remarkable man.
[Illustration]
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[Illustration]
_BEDROOM A_.
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BEDROOM A.
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No. 119.
PHILIP, FOURTH EARL OF PEMBROKE.
BY VANDYCK.
DIED 1649-50.
_Tawny coat. Blue bows. Ribbon, Collar, and Order of Garter._
HE was the second son of Henry Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, by the
beautiful and talented Mary Sidney, the ‘Sidney’s sister, Pembroke’s
mother,’ of ‘rare Ben Jonson,’ or, as Spenser describes her, ‘the
gentlest shepherdess that most resembled both in shape, and spirit, her
brother dear.’ Surely those who trace the inheritance of maternal
qualities of mind in the child, are at fault in this instance. Philip
received his education at New College, Oxford, but he was so illiterate
that he could scarcely write his name. He went to Court at an early age;
Rowland White, that amusing gossip, calls him ‘Little Master Philip
Herbert,’ and three years afterwards says, ‘he is the forwardest
courtier that ever I saw, for he had not been here (at Court) two hours
than he grew as bold as the best.’
The young man was at that time engaged in seeking a wife, and sued
(unsuccessfully) the daughter, first of his kinsman, Sir William
Herbert, and afterwards of Sir Arthur Gorges. In 1604, however, he
espoused Susan, daughter of Edward de Vere, Earl of Oxford, the ceremony
being performed with great pomp and magnificence. The King himself sent
a fine present.
Sir Thomas Edmonds, in a letter to Gilbert Earl of Shrewsbury, (whose
daughter, the Countess of Pembroke, was sister-in-law to Philip
Herbert,) says, ‘The gifts of gloves and garters alone amounted to
wellnigh a thousand pounds.’ The same authority, speaking of Herbert’s
growing favour with James I., says, ‘he is desirous to doe all men
goode, and to hurte no man.’ But another contemporary seems nearer the
truth when he observes, ‘Sir Philip is intolerable, choleric, and
offensive, and did not refrain to break wiser heads than his own.’ He
was constantly involved in some quarrel through his arrogance and
insolence; and once being at some races at Croydon, he so raised the ire
of Ramsay, afterwards Earl of Holdernesse, that the enraged Scot
inflicted personal chastisement on Herbert, in the sight of the whole
course.
But James made him Privy Councillor, and in 1605 Baron Herbert of
Hurland, Isle of Sheppey, and Earl of Montgomery. He was already a
Knight of the Bath, and shortly afterwards he received the Garter. Other
dignities followed, and on the accession of Charles I., that King
continued to distinguish this most unworthy man.
He was made Chamberlain, and Warden of the Stannaries; he is said to
have beaten one Thomas May with his Chamberlain’s staff in the
banqueting-hall at Whitehall, and to have so far tyrannised over the
people of Devon and Cornwall as to have endangered a rising in those
counties. Charles I., whose kindness of heart so often betrayed him into
culpable weakness, bore with Lord Montgomery’s misconduct for some time,
but after a disgraceful scene in the House of Lords between him and the
Earl of Arundel, in which blows are said actually to have passed, the
King availed himself of this opening to choose another Chamberlain.
Indeed both Lords were committed to the Tower for a time, and from that
moment the Earl of Pembroke (for he had succeeded to the ancestral
honours on the death of his brother) forsook the master who had laden
him with benefits. He ranged himself with the King’s bitterest enemies,
and in 1642, being appointed one of the committee that waited on His
Majesty at Newmarket, he urged (and that in so unbecoming a manner) that
the King should relinquish the control of the militia to the Parliament,
that Charles exclaimed indignantly, ‘No, by God! not for an hour. You
have asked that of me, was never asked of a king before.’ Lord Pembroke
was employed several times in negotiating between the King and
Parliament; he became Chancellor of the University of Cambridge, where
he was deservedly unpopular. He spoke in the House in a most intemperate
and even absurd manner, and in 1649 accepted a seat, as representative
for the county of Berks, in Cromwell’s House of Commons. In the January
following he died. By his first wife he had seven sons, of whom the
fourth, Philip, succeeded him in his titles and estates, and three
daughters. His second wife was the celebrated Anne Clifford, daughter
and heir of George, third Earl of Cumberland, and widow of Richard
Sackville, third Earl of Dorset. He treated her shamefully, endeavouring
to force her to give her daughter Lady Isabella Sackville in marriage to
one of his younger sons, striving hard to get possession of the young
lady’s portion. In a letter to her uncle, the Earl of Bedford, Lady
Pembroke says, ‘I dare not venture to come up without his leave, leste
he should find occasion to turne mee out of this house, as he did at
Whitehalle.’
She fortunately survived her tyrant many years. Lodge gives at length a
most amusing lampoon, purporting to be Philip Earl of Pembroke’s last
will and testament. It was attributed to Samuel Butler.
We have only space for a few extracts:—‘_Imprimis_, for my soule, I
confesse I have heard a great deal about souls, but what they are, and
what they are for, God knowes, I knowe not. They tell mee of another
worlde, I knowe not one foot of the way thither. When the King stood I
was of his religion, then came the Scot and made me a Presbyterian, and
since Cromwell I have been an Independent. I will not be buried in the
church porch because I was a Lord. I will have no monument, because then
I must have an epitaph, and verses, and all my life long I have had too
much of them. _Item_, I give nothing to the Lord Say, because I knowe he
will bestowe it on the poore. To the two Countesses, my sister and wife,
I give leave now to enjoy their estates. _Item_, I give fifty pounds to
the footman who cudgelled Sir Harry Mildmay, whom I threatened but did
not beat. _Item_, As I restore other men’s wordes, I give to
Lieutenant-Generall Cromwell one worde of mine, because hitherto he
never kept his owne, etc. etc. I give up the ghoste.’
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No. 120.
ELIZABETH, QUEEN OF BOHEMIA.
BY HONTHORST.
BORN 1596, DIED 1662.
_Black and gold dress. Ruff. Small crown. Fan in her hand._
THE eldest daughter of James I. by Anne of Denmark, born in the Palace
of Falkland, North Britain. On the accession of her father to the
English Crown, the young Princess was intrusted to the care of the
Countess of Kildare, daughter to Charles Howard, Earl of Nottingham,
Lord High Admiral of England, James himself taking pleasure in
occasionally presiding over his daughter’s studies. She afterwards went
to reside with Lord and Lady Harrington at Combe Abbey, county Warwick,
where she was very happy in the society of genial companions. Lord
Harrington had two children—a son, who became the chosen friend of Henry
Prince of Wales, and a daughter, Lucia, (afterwards Countess of
Bedford,) whose beauty and learning inspired the muse of Dryden, Donne,
and other poets. Lord Harrington’s niece, Anne Dudley, was, however, the
Princess’s favourite playmate, and remained her fast friend in all her
wanderings. The only drawback to Elizabeth’s residence at Combe Abbey
seems to have been the separation of brother and sister, for dearly did
she love the Prince of Wales, and a touching little note is extant,
written by her to Henry when he was only eight years of age: ‘Most dear
and worthy brother, I most kindly salute you, desiring to hear of you.
From whom, though I am now removed far away, none shall ever be nearer
in affection, than your most loving sister, Elizabeth.’
While staying at Combe, the Princess was treated most royally on all
occasions, and there is a picturesque account of her first visit to
Coventry, when only eight years old:—
‘She was sufficiently expert in horsemanship to have headed the
procession, but the degeneracy of the age was attested by their
substituting a line of coaches, in one of which sat the gracious child,
who bore her part bravely with the Worshipful the Mayor, the burghers,
etc. etc.’
Even at that tender age Elizabeth was remarkable for that winning
gentleness of manner and sweet courtesy, which, in after times, gained
for her the title of ‘Queen of Hearts;’ but we have no space to linger
over the details of the childhood of one whose after life was so
eventful. When about sixteen, several overtures of marriage were made
and rejected; amongst others, the hero, Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden,
sought her hand.
Her parents were at variance on the subject, the Queen declaring her
daughter should marry none but a Sovereign, while James, though loving
her dearly, was less ambitious.
Frederick Elector Palatine had made himself acceptable to the King of
Great Britain by his staunch support of the Protestant faith. He came to
England as a suitor to the Princess Elizabeth, saw, loved, and was
beloved in return. The Queen was much disgusted at her daughter’s
choice, and sneered at her as ‘Goody Palsgrave,’ but Elizabeth, backed
by her father and her brother, was proof against ridicule, and declared
she would rather marry a Protestant Count than a Catholic Emperor. A
deep sorrow was in store, not only for the Royal family, but for the
whole nation, in the death of Henry Prince of Wales, the idol of his
father’s subjects, but to Elizabeth the loss was irreparable. The
marriage, however, took place on Valentine’s Day 1613, with much pomp,
and the union was very popular in England in spite of the Queen’s
ill-temper, James’s vacillating humour, and the new Prince of Wales’s
milder dislike to the bridegroom. In a letter to the Duke of Buckingham
he says: ‘Steenie, I send you herewith two letters for my sister, and
brother. I place them so, because I think the grey mare the better
horse.’
Nor was he quite singular in his opinion.
The bride was accompanied by a goodly retinue of countrymen and
countrywomen on her voyage, and many of them remained in her service,
and shared her chequered fortunes. The newly-married pair took up their
abode at Heidelberg, the capital of the Palatinate. Elizabeth’s
reception in her new country was, indeed, one calculated to delight her
imagination, and gratify her heart. Frederick and his people planned all
sorts of picturesque surprises, to which the lovely scenery of the Rhine
formed a charming background, while his excellent mother and sisters
vied with each other in extending a cordial welcome to the English
Princess. At Heidelberg they passed many happy years, leading useful and
contented lives, doing good in their generation, beautifying and
improving all within their reach, and welcoming to their Court not only
the distinguished men of the country, but such old friends as Lord and
Lady Harrington, the poet Donne, and others.
Frederick took great delight in planning and carrying into execution a
beautiful garden, on the slope which surrounds the castle, for his
wife’s delectation, where her sweet spirit seems still to hover, at
least to the English pilgrim who visits the shrine of which she was once
the idol.
Alas for the ambition that lured them from this happy home! ‘that
preferred to eat bread at a kingly board rather than feast at an
electoral table,’ though, doubtless, the zeal of both husband and wife
for the Protestant cause weighed in their decision.
Schiller has told the story better than we can. We shall therefore only
remind our readers, as briefly as possible, of the principal incidents
in which the Elector and his wife were implicated. The kingdom of
Bohemia, hitherto elective, had just been made hereditary, but the king,
Ferdinand, was a strong Papist, and therefore most unpopular with the
Bohemians, who were staunch Reformers.
They revolted, formed a Provisional Government, offered the Crown (which
was refused) to the Dukes of Savoy and of Saxony, and finally to the
Elector Palatine, who accepted it.
The King of England tried to dissuade his son-in-law from this step, but
his mother and her family and his beloved wife added their persuasions
to his own half-formed decision, and Frederick and Elizabeth were
crowned King and Queen of Bohemia. The ceremony took place in the
beautiful city of Prague, with all the pomp and circumstance of secular
and religious magnificence. The Emperor Ferdinand now issued a ban,
proclaiming Frederick a traitor, depriving him at the same time of his
Electoral dignity, while he made preparations to march on Bohemia.
The English people were eager to assist their favourite Princess, but
James ignored the newly-gained title, and refused supplies, although his
daughter wrote earnest appeals for help. The battle of Prague, on the
9th of November 1620, was one of the most decisive and memorable of the
war in question; the newly-made Sovereigns were compelled to fly, and a
hard journey through the winter’s snow (partly on horseback, and partly
in a coach) was heroically endured by Elizabeth, then many months gone
with child.
The fugitives went first to Breslau, but were hunted from one place to
another, till they took refuge in Holland. Indeed, it was to the
liberality of the Princes of Nassau, combined with casual supplies from
private parties in England, that they were indebted for their support.
It was a sad and humiliating position for the daughter of a line of
kings, and vulgar satire and petty spite were of course directed against
her in her misfortunes. A print, published at Antwerp, is we believe
still extant, representing this Queen (at least in name) as a poor
beggar-woman, with dishevelled hair, her baby at her back, and her
husband carrying the cradle. But though fortune frowned on her,
Elizabeth never wanted for friends. Her courage, her dignity, and her
genial warmth of heart made her the object of respectful but devoted
affection.
The Knights, so to speak, who wore her colours were numerous, and mostly
illustrious in military fame,—the hero Gustavus Adolphus, Duke Christian
of Brunswick, Count Thurn, and above all, her faithful and lasting
friend, Lord Craven, whose heart, sword, and purse were always at her
disposal. No one ever merited better that Crown of an elective monarchy,
the only one that now remained to her, for even among the common
soldiers of the army she was known and acknowledged as Queen of Hearts.
The accession of her brother to the Crown of England brought back a
gleam of hope that the Palatinate at least might be recovered. But
Charles’s exertions in his sister’s behalf were only half-measures. Not
so the zeal displayed by the noble King of Sweden, whose services were
only terminated with his life; he died a hero’s death at the battle of
Lützen in 1632, Frederick surviving him but a few months, to mourn his
loss. That unfortunate Prince died at Mentz in the thirty-sixth year of
his age, absent from his beloved wife, whom he consigned with his dying
breath to the care of Henry of Nassau, a Prince whose affection for the
exiles had been cemented by his union with Amelia of Solms, a chosen
friend of Elizabeth’s amongst the ladies of her Court.
The unhappy widow addressed a memorial to the States of Holland, in
which she says: ‘It has pleased Almighty God to call from this scene of
woe my ever and most entirely beloved consort, and what renders the
calamity more overwhelming is, that it followed immediately that of his
ally, the glorious, the invincible King of Sweden, and on the eve of our
triumph.’
Poor Elizabeth, whose sanguine disposition had held out so long! She was
not alone in her distress; her children mourned their father with
passionate sorrow, while the aged Princess, the Electress Juliana,
strove to restrain her own feelings, in order to administer comfort to
the widow of her beloved Frederick.
Elizabeth resided for some years at The Hague, busying herself with the
care and education of her sons and daughters. Her family was so
numerous, and their several destinies so varied and eventful, that we
have no space to attempt any details.
Charles I., it will be remembered, invited two of his nephews over to
England, of whom the younger, Prince Rupert, became naturalised, and did
his uncle gallant service in the field.
The ex-Queen employed her time in conversation, and in correspondence
with men of literature and science, taking also great delight in the
exercise of hunting, being a fearless horsewoman. The management of her
household she intrusted to her devoted friend, Lord Craven, who entered
the service of the States in order to be near her, and it has commonly
been believed that they were privately married.
So fervent was her attachment to the Reformed faith, that on her
brother’s sending Sir Harry Vane, to persuade her into compliance with
his proposal that her eldest son should go to Vienna, and espouse an
Austrian Princess, which step would entail his becoming a Catholic, she
indignantly replied she would rather kill him with her own hand.
This same son treated his mother most unkindly, and refused her all
pecuniary aid in her distress.
Charles II., on his Restoration, invited his aunt to return to England,
and she landed at Margate. How wonderful was the contrast between her
return and her embarkation from that same place on the occasion of her
marriage!
In the meanwhile the King had raised Lord Craven to an earldom. This
unwavering and loyal friend conducted Elizabeth to his own home, called
Drury House, surrounded by a delightful garden, where she took up her
abode.
Drury Lane Theatre was built on the site of the garden, but a tavern
existed near Craven Court, called ‘The Queen of Bohemia,’ on the door of
which was an equestrian portrait of Lord Craven. The building was
standing as late as 1794. It would appear that Elizabeth did not go to
Court, although Pepys mentions her accompanying the King to the
theatres, sometimes attended by Lord Craven. But at his house she had a
little Court of her own, and all that hospitality, generosity, and the
most refined consideration for his royal guest, wife, or friend, could
suggest, was lavished upon her by her noble-hearted host. Here too she
was once more united to her favourite and dutiful son, Prince Rupert. In
the autumn she changed her residence, and went to Leicester House,
belonging to Lord Leicester. But her health, which had been slowly
undermined, now gave way; she prepared for the end, and made her will,
leaving her books, pictures, (a most interesting collection may be seen
at Combe Abbey,) and papers to Lord Craven. She died on the 13th of
February 1662.
Lord Leicester, in speaking of his ‘royal tenant,’ says with some
flippancy, ‘It is a pity she did not live a few hours more, to die on
her wedding-day; and that there is not so good a poet as Dr. Donne to
write her epitaph, as he did her epithalamium unto St. Valentine.’
She was interred with much pomp in Westminster Abbey; Lord Craven was
occupied at that time in constructing a house for her reception at
Hamstead Marshall, county Berks, which was destined to be a miniature
Heidelberg, but it was burnt to the ground before it was completed. The
gate-posts, which are all that remain of the building, bear an Electoral
Crown, entwined with the coronet of an English Earl, carved thereon.
It is strange to reflect that Elizabeth, who was deprived of her titles
of Electress and Queen, should be the ancestress of every crowned head
in Europe at this moment.
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No. 121.
FRANCIS BACON, BARON VERULAM, AND
VISCOUNT ST. ALBANS.
BORN 1561, DIED 1626.
_Black dress. Ruff. Cloak. High hat._
THE second son of Sir Nicholas Bacon, by Anne, daughter of Sir Anthony
Cooke, sister-in-law to Lord Burghley. Nicholas was Keeper of the Great
Seal to Queen Elizabeth, who, visiting him one day at Gorhambury,
observed that the house was too small for him. ‘No, Madam,’ replied the
courtier, ‘it is you who have made me too big for my house.’
The Queen had a great liking for little Francis, and delighted in asking
him questions, which the boy generally answered pertinently.
‘Come hither,’ she said to him one day, ‘and tell me how old you are.’
‘Just two years younger than your Majesty’s happy reign.’
The reply pleased Elizabeth, who in these early days dubbed the child
jestingly ‘My Lord Keeper.’