Sir Amias Powlett on his embassy to Paris, and was employed in several
diplomatic missions, but the sudden death of his father brought him back
to England. Finding himself unprovided for, he studied the law with
great zeal at Gray’s Inn; but he did not succeed for some time in
getting any official employment, which was his aim. He formed a close
friendship with Lord Essex, which displeased his relations of the Cecil
faction, who in consequence were not willing to exert themselves in his
behalf, save perhaps by obtaining the reversion of the office of
Registrar-General. He also sat in the House of Commons.
In 1596, the post of Solicitor-General being vacant, Lord Essex
endeavoured to obtain it for Bacon, but, failing in this attempt, was
much disgusted, and, we are told, went over from Richmond to his friend
at Twickenham to tell him so. The particulars of this interview are
related by Bacon himself—Lord Essex expressing the anger he felt towards
the Queen for denying his suit, and thanking Bacon ‘for that you have
spent your time and thoughts in my matters,’ pressed on his acceptance a
piece of land, _i.e._ Twickenham Park, with a delightful house
denominated ‘The Garden of Paradise.’
Essex also strove, but with the same lack of success, to assist Bacon in
his design of forming a wealthy matrimonial alliance. Lady Hatton, (born
Cecil,) granddaughter to Lord Burghley, and therefore a cousin of
Bacon’s, was the rich widow of Sir William Hatton, nephew and heir to
the Lord Chancellor. The lady was witty, capricious, violent in temper,
and of a worldly spirit, but all these qualities were thickly gilded,
and Francis Bacon was needy.
Lord Essex once more stood his friend, and wrote to the lady’s father
and mother, to the effect that ‘were she my sister or daughter, I would
as confidently resolve to further the match as I now persuade you.’
But the wayward fair one had fixed her fancy elsewhere, and instead of
her handsome and accomplished cousin—a rising man between thirty and
forty—she preferred crabbed old Sir Edward Coke, a widower of advanced
age, ‘to whom there were seven objections—himself and his six children.’
She induced her elderly lover (the future Chief-Justice) to elope with
her, and the marriage was performed in so irregular a manner, that the
newly-married pair were summoned before the Ecclesiastical Court.
Not content with running off with Bacon’s mistress, Sir Edward Coke
gained the post of Solicitor-General—thus bearing away the two prizes.
But if Francis Bacon had any revengeful feelings against his rival in
love and law, he might be consoled by learning that Sir Edward had a sad
life of it with his rich wife, till she left him, his very children
being taught by her to neglect and disobey him.
Bacon did not prove grateful for the friendly attempts, however
unsuccessful, which Essex had made to serve him.
When the favourite fell into disgrace, he came forward to plead against
him at the bar, and, not contented with so doing, published a pamphlet
accusing the prisoner of treason, and the like. It was supposed that he
hoped by so doing to ingratiate himself with the Queen, in which aim he
failed, and finding he was much censured, he prepared an apology for his
conduct, which he addressed to the Earl of Devonshire, the attached
friend of the Lord Essex. Disappointed in his hopes of public
employment, our philosopher now devoted himself to scientific studies,
and to the prosecution of those labours and those writings which have
rendered his name immortal and gained for it a world-wide fame.
The next Sovereign was more propitious, for James I. was a great admirer
of Bacon’s genius and learning, while he on his part was very useful to
the King in the House of Commons. He became Solicitor-General,
Attorney-General, etc., Baron Verulam, Viscount St. Albans, and Lord
Chancellor of England. But troublous times were in store for the new
peer. He was now very unpopular in the country, and all the more so for
his adherence to the falling fortunes of the Duke of Buckingham, while
Sir Edward Coke proved a dangerous enemy. He was first charged with
corruption in having accepted large bribes from two suitors in Chancery,
an accusation that was fully proved; and although the Upper House, to
which he had just been admitted, showed a willingness to deal leniently
with him, fresh and startling disclosures of the same nature, followed
fast one upon another. James evinced much sympathy for Lord St. Albans,
and thought to serve him by procuring an adjournment of Parliament,
which only gave his enemies time to gather more evidence against him.
The accused deemed it the most prudent course to make a full confession
of his guilt, which he did in a letter universally cited as a model of
style and eloquence.
The letter was presented by Henry Prince of Wales, but was of no avail.
Lord St. Albans was deprived of the Great Seal, and sentenced to a fine
of £40,000, or to be imprisoned in the Tower; also to be declared
incapable of holding any public office or sitting in Parliament for the
future.
James, however, soon released him, and remitted the whole of the
sentence, with the exception of the Parliamentary prohibition. Lord St.
Albans never again succeeded in obtaining any employment, although his
means were so necessitous that he did not disdain to apply for the
Provostship of Eton College, and was much mortified by receiving a flat
denial. The remainder of his life was given to study, but the most
important of his works were, curiously enough, written during the years
of his official life.
The great philosopher was no true lover. He wrote in slighting terms of
the tender passion, such as: ‘Amongst all the great and worthy persons,
of whom the memory remaineth, either in modern or ancient times, there
hath not been one man transported to the mad degree of love, which shows
that great spirits and great business do keep out this weak passion.’
Might one dare to call in question the validity of so great a man’s
opinion?
We have seen what strenuous efforts he made to marry an unamiable woman
for her wealth, and late in life he sought the hand of Alice Barnham,
daughter to a rich London alderman—‘pour les beaux yeaux de sa cassette’
alone.
The marriage was most unhappy. They lived for some time together on
wretched terms, and at length separated, the husband, in his last will,
revoking every bequest he had made in his wife’s favour, and only
leaving her what she might claim by settlement. Seldom could the line of
‘the ruling passion strong in death’ be more appropriately applied than
in the case of Bacon, who indeed fell a victim to his love for
scientific research.
Journeying from Gravesend to Gorhambury with the King’s physician (a
congenial spirit) in winter, they fell into a discussion which caused
them to set about making the experiment whether snow and ice would prove
efficient substitutes for salt in the preservation of dead flesh.
The two companions immediately began to search for snow, and having
found a sufficient quantity, they entered a cottage, and purchased a
fowl, which Lord St. Albans stuffed with snow with his own hands.
The weather was intensely cold, and he was shortly taken with a
shivering fit, and became so alarmingly ill that he could not prosecute
his journey, but was conveyed to a house in the neighbourhood, belonging
to Lord Arundel. A splendid house, as it appears, and the servants
placed their noble guest in the state bed, but alas! the room was cold,
the sheets damp, and the consequences fatal.
In his last moments he seems to have found consolation in likening
himself to the elder Pliny, who fell a victim to his scientific ardour,
being suffocated by the fumes of Vesuvius from having approached too
near the raging crater, in order to investigate the phenomena of the
eruption. Bacon—we call him by the name he generally bears as an
author—died on Easter Day, in the arms of Sir Julius Cesar. He was of
middle height, limbs well formed, but not strongly built, ample
forehead, bright eyes and genial smile, with deep lines of thought on
his face, as became a philosopher. His manners were attractive. He was
fond of the country and rural pursuits, and found a relaxation from
profound study in gardening and planting.
His faithful secretary erected a noble monument to his beloved patron in
St. Michael’s Church, at St. Albans, with an excellent portrait of the
great philosopher sitting in a chair, his head resting thoughtfully on
his hand. He appears to have been in constant pecuniary difficulties,
having once been actually arrested for debt, and dying insolvent. He
deplored his childlessness, for though children, he said, increase the
cares of life, they mitigate the remembrance of death—laying, however,
the flattering unction to his soul, that great men have no continuance.
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No. 122.
FREDERICK, KING OF BOHEMIA.
BY HONTHORST.
BORN 1596, DIED 1632.
_Brown and gold slashed dress. Blue mantle. Blue ribbon. Ruff._
THE family history of Frederick, Elector Palatine, afterwards King of
Bohemia, bears so materially on the public history of the time, and the
events of the Thirty Years’ War, that we must be held excused if we go
back some three generations to notice circumstances which tended not
only to shape the career of this Prince, but to influence the destinies
of all Germany.
Jacqueline de Longwy, wife of Louis de Bourbon, Duke of Montpensier, was
secretly but deeply devoted to the Reformed faith, and she contrived,
contrary to her husband’s wishes, to effect a union between her eldest
daughter and the Prince of Sedan, a zealous Calvinist.
Enraged beyond measure, the Duke forced his youngest daughter Charlotte
into a convent, but not before the girl (then only eighteen years of
age) had, at her mother’s instigation, signed a protest against this
compulsory step, at the same time declaring her strong predilection for
the religion of her mother. Charlotte remained for seven years (during
which time the Duchess of Montpensier died) at Jouarre in Normandy,
where she became Lady Abbess.
In 1572 hostilities commenced between the Catholics and Protestants, and
the gates of Jouarre, in common with those of many other religious
houses, were thrown open by the latter party. Charlotte, finding herself
free to follow the faith in which her mother had reared her, gladly
availed herself of her liberty, taking refuge first with her sister, the
Princess of Sedan, and afterwards going to reside at Heidelberg, under
the guardianship of the Elector Palatine, where she openly abjured the
creed of Rome.
Charlotte was an enthusiast in all things, and a hero-worshipper, and
even before they had ever met, the fame of the Protestant champion,
William ‘the Silent,’ Prince of Orange, had inflamed her fancy.
His valour, his religion, his patriotism, all rendered him an object of
admiration in her eyes. She was desirous to consecrate her life to one
whose every feeling and opinion were in harmony with her own; nor was
the Prince insensible to the preference of a woman distinguished alike
for nobility of character and birth, as well as for courage, while the
fame of her personal charms might be supposed to weigh somewhat in the
scale. William had divorced his first wife for her infidelity, and
married the daughter of Maurice of Saxony, on whose death he asked the
hand of Charlotte de Montpensier. But there were those who objected to
the match on the plea that his first consort was still living.
Charlotte’s vows of celibacy were also adduced as an impediment,
although they had been compulsory, and her change of faith had made them
null and void by a decree which was confirmed by the Parliament of
Paris.
The lovers now eagerly sought the consent of the Duke of Montpensier,
who not only bestowed the paternal benediction, but enhanced its value
by a considerable dower, and so, three years from the time Charlotte de
Montpensier left her convent, she became the bride of the Prince of
Orange.
Their happiness was complete, and for a while uninterrupted, but
mischief was pending. The Spanish tyrant, Philip II., had set a large
sum on the head of the patriot Prince, and a miscreant was found willing
to attempt his life. As William was sitting, surrounded by his family,
in the palace at Antwerp, a shot was fired in at the window, which
wounded him severely, though not mortally.
The shot that was aimed at the husband, may well be said to have entered
the wife’s heart. She swooned away, and though she rallied sufficiently
to nurse him as he lay for some time between life and death, yet the
shock to her system, from the alternations of hope and fear, fatigue and
excitement, proved too much for her strength. She lived to kneel by
William’s side in the thanksgiving service for his recovery, but she
drooped gradually, and died gently, with the beloved name on her lips,
mourned not only by her husband and family, but by the whole nation.
In Louisa, daughter of the Admiral de Coligny, the Prince of Orange gave
his children a kind and judicious stepmother, who reared them with
tenderness, and presided carefully over their education.
Juliana, Charlotte’s eldest daughter, was destined to take an important
part in the religious struggles of Germany. She was a woman of
remarkable energy, wisdom, and courage, and (following in the footsteps
of her illustrious parents) devotedly attached to the Reformed Faith.
She married the Elector Palatine, and was the mother of Frederick,
afterwards King of Bohemia. On the death of her husband, the widowed
Electress was named Regent and co-guardian with her young kinsman the
Duke de deux Ponts, who usually deferred to her matured judgment in
matters both public and private. She managed the affairs of the
Palatinate with masculine energy, always making the interests of the
Reformed Church her principal object. While yet in their respective
cradles, Juliana had, in her own mind, betrothed her first-born to the
Princess-Royal Elizabeth of England, and she now devoted her thoughts to
giving her son the best education within her reach. The Duke de Bouillon
had married Juliana’s sister as his second wife, and at Sedan they held
a small Court, which was the resort of the flower of the Protestant
youth of France, Switzerland, and Germany. Here the young men were not
only encouraged to shine in military exercises and courtly manners, but
they were invited to pursue their academical studies, strengthened in
the tenets of the Reformation, both by precept and example.
In this wholesome atmosphere the young Elector Palatine passed his early
years, much beloved by his relations, the Duke and Duchess de Bouillon,
and doing honour to their fostering care. His studies completed,
Frederick returned to Heidelberg, and was received with pride and joy by
his mother. Singularly handsome, of polished manners, skilled in all the
athletic exercises and the accomplishments which were considered
indispensable in the education of a royal prince, the young Elector
added to these gifts a piety, earnestness, and gentleness of heart which
made Juliana believe him fitted to captivate the fancy of the most noble
among the princesses of Christendom. She had relations and connections
on all sides, but especially in the house of Nassau, who were willing
and capable to assist her in her schemes for the happiness of her son,
and the advancement of the Protestant religion, and we have already
seen, in the notice of Elizabeth, daughter of James I., how successful
was the Elector’s suit. On his return to Heidelberg with his bride, they
lived an almost ideal life of domestic happiness, until the offer was
made to Frederick to accept the crown of Bohemia, and place himself at
the head of the Protestant party, the Bohemians having revolted from the
Emperor.
Frederick is said to have hesitated to break up the happy life which
contented his affectionate and unambitious nature, but the two women he
loved best, Juliana and Elizabeth, were urgent in their persuasions, and
successful.
Frederick was not only driven from Bohemia by the imperial army, but
placed under the ban of the Empire, and stripped of his hereditary
dominions, which were afterwards recovered by his son. An exile, a
wanderer, a mere soldier of fortune, the chief consolation of
Frederick’s sad life was the love of his wife and children, from whom,
however, he was constantly separated. His health gave way under the
pressure of sorrow of all kinds, aggravated by the untimely death of his
eldest son, who was drowned before his eyes.
Frederick, having again joined the army, was in no fit state to bear
with composure the news which reached him while still suffering from
fever, of the death of his illustrious ally and devoted friend, Gustavus
Adolphus, King of Sweden, who fell at the battle of Lützen in the moment
of victory. At a distance from his wife and children, Frederick’s last
thoughts were of their welfare, and he implored the continued friendship
and kindness of the Nassau Princes; entreating the King of England also
to watch over his beloved Elizabeth.
Thus died the ex-King of Bohemia at the Castle of Mentz in the
thirty-sixth year of his age. How many sad events had been crowded into
that short space of time! His brother caused him to be interred within
the boundaries of his paternal home, but, dreading lest the sanctity of
the grave might be violated, he afterwards directed that the body should
be removed to Sedan. Thus the scene of Frederick’s happy and careless
youth became his last resting-place.
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No. 123.
CHARLES GERARD, EARL OF MACCLESFIELD.
BY DOBSON.
DIED 1693.
_Head in oval. Green dress. Tagged shoulder-knot. Dark hair._
A LOYALIST. Was created Baron Gerard of Brandon by Charles I., 1645, and
Earl of Macclesfield by Charles II., in 1672. He was succeeded by his
son, who died childless, as did his successor in turn; when the title
became extinct in the Gerard family.
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No. 124.
ALGERNON PERCY, EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND.
BY SIR PETER LELY.
BORN 1602, DIED 1668.
_Black dress. Blue ribbon._
THE third son of Henry Percy, ninth Earl of Northumberland, by Dorothy,
daughter of Walter Devereux, Earl of Essex. Educated at Christ Church,
Oxford, under Robert Hughes, the celebrated mathematician, and in 1616
was one of the youthful Knights of the Bath, at the creation of Charles
Prince of Wales.
On the accession of that Prince to the Throne, he was called by writ to
the House of Peers (his father being then alive) as Baron Percy.
He afterwards, as Privy Councillor, attended the King to Scotland for
his coronation, having by that time succeeded to his father’s titles and
estates.
In 1636 he had the command of a noble fleet, the largest, says Lodge,
since the death of Queen Elizabeth.
Lord Northumberland was much commended for his services in the
expedition against the Dutch fishery, making advantageous terms for the
King of England, after which he turned his time and thoughts to
reforming many abuses then prevalent in the navy.
In 1637 he was named Lord High Admiral, and in 1639 commander of the
troops marching against the Scots, but was prevented—so he pleaded—from
joining the army by illness, when the real command devolved on the Earl
of Strafford. Clarendon says, ‘Lord Northumberland was chosen for
ornament.’ It appears by a letter to his brother-in-law (Lord Leicester)
that he had most gloomy forebodings as to the result of the enterprise,
which, ‘it grieves my soul to be involved in.’ An incident occurred
shortly afterwards, which does not redound to the credit of the Earl of
Northumberland.
We will give an abridged account of Lord Clarendon’s version. Henry
Percy, a zealous Royalist, brother to the Earl of Northumberland, was on
his way to France, on the King’s service, just at the time that the
Commons had petitioned Charles to prohibit any of his servants leaving
England. Striving to embark, he was attacked and wounded by the people
of the Sussex coast, and narrowly escaped with his life to a place of
concealment, whence he wrote to his brother in a private and
confidential manner. Northumberland carried the letter to the House of
Commons (which had already voted an impeachment of high treason against
Henry Percy), and laid the document upon the table. Clarendon makes but
a lame defence for this conduct on the part of the elder brother, who
was, he said, ‘in great trouble how to send Henry in safety beyond seas,
when his wound was cured, he having taken shelter at Northumberland
House.’
But the end of the matter was, that Henry did escape from England, and
there was enmity between the brethren from that day forth. This was the
first time in which Northumberland ‘showed his defection from the King’s
cause, and Charles had been a good friend to him, and laden him with
bounties.’
He acted in direct opposition to the King’s commands, when he obeyed
those of the Parliament, to equip the royal navy, and to appoint the
Earl of Warwick Admiral of the fleet.
In 1642 he resigned his commission of Lord High Admiral, and openly
abandoned his allegiance, siding with the Parliamentarians, and though
their faith was rather shaken in him on one occasion, he was too
valuable an ally to quarrel with.
Northumberland was appointed head of the Commissioners employed to
negotiate with the King, in the several treaties of Oxford, Uxbridge,
etc., and was intrusted with the custody of the royal children, which he
retained until the King’s death. It would appear that he had at least
the grace to facilitate their interviews with their unhappy and loving
father, and that he cared for the wellbeing of his royal wards. They
were subsequently committed to the guardianship of his sister, the
Countess of Leicester, and were removed to her Lord’s house of Penshurst
in Kent.
Words, in truth, Lord Northumberland used to prevent the execution of
the King, but his deeds had hastened the catastrophe. We are told he
‘detested the murder.’ Immediately after Charles’s death Northumberland
repaired to his seat at Petworth, in Sussex, where he remained until
1660, when he joined Monck in his exertions to bring about the
Restoration. He held no public office under Charles II. excepting the
Lord Lieutenancies of Sussex and Northumberland. Clarendon, in a long
character of him, says: ‘His temper and reservedness in discourse got
him the reputation of a wise man. In his own family no one was ever more
absolutely obeyed, or had fewer idle words to answer for;’ and, alluding
to his defection from the Royal cause: ‘After he was first prevailed
upon not to do that which in honour and gratitude he was obliged to, he
was with the more facility led to concur in what in duty and fidelity he
ought not to have done, and so he concurred in all the counsels which
produced the rebellion, and stayed with them to support it.’
He took great delight in his gardens and plantations at Petworth, where
he resided in the summer, but in the winter he was much in town,
attending to his Parliamentary duties. He had two wives; the first was
Lady Anne Cecil, daughter to Thomas, second Earl of Salisbury. On her
death we hear Lord Northumberland ‘is a very sad man, and his sister
(Lady Leicester) has gone to comfort him.’ By Lady Anne he had five
daughters. His second wife was the second daughter of Theophilus Howard,
second Earl of Suffolk, who brought him in Northumberland House in
London, originally called Northampton House. Sion House had been granted
by the Crown to the ninth Earl. Evelyn went to see it, and thought it
‘pretty, but the garden more celebrated, than it deserved.’
By Lady Elizabeth Howard, who long survived her husband, he had an only
son and heir, and a daughter, who died unmarried. Algernon Earl of
Northumberland was buried at Petworth, in Sussex.
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No. 125.
HELENA, PRINCESS RAGOTSKI, OR RACOZI, WIFE
OF COUNT EMERIC TEKELI OR TÖCKOLI.
_Three-quarters length. In widow’s weeds. Black wimple. The right wrist
is concealed by a handkerchief. Letter lying on the table. Castle
burning in the background._