obnoxious to the Parliament, and his estates were sequestered. But the
Countess drew up what Lodge designates as ‘a bold and dignified
memorial,’ and which perhaps tended to the removal of the sequestration
which followed shortly afterwards, enhanced, as it was, by the combined
influence of her brother and her son.
Lord Northumberland, now partially reconciled to his sister, had been
coquetting for a long time with the Royalist and the Roundhead parties,
and was therefore thought worth winning over by both, while the young
heir of Penshurst, Lord L’Isle, was very popular with the powers that
were then in the ascendant, on account of his republican tendencies. So
Lord and Lady Leicester were left in peaceful possession of their
beautiful home, the ‘Arcadia’ of the Sidneys.
On the death of King Charles I., the care of the younger children, the
Princess Elizabeth and the Duke of Gloucester, devolved on the Countess,
and we cannot doubt her guardianship was tender, though Lord Clarendon,
who did not much affect the Lord and Lady of Penshurst, speaks rather
slightingly on the subject. But the reduced allowance, the lessening of
respect, the omission of titles, and the like, were not to be laid to
the charge of the royal children’s guardians, but to that of the
Government then in power. At all events, Princess Elizabeth evinced her
affection for Lady Leicester by bequeathing to her a jewel of much
value, on her death, at Carisbrook in the Isle of Wight, where she had
been removed from the shades of Penshurst. This token of gratitude and
friendship was grudged by the Parliament, who, questioning the validity
of the will, instituted a suit against the Earl of Leicester, and after
some litigation, (as might have been expected,) gained possession of
this bone of contention.
Lady Leicester did not long survive her young ward. There is a letter
extant, addressed by her husband, on her death, to her unkind brother,
Lord Northumberland, which we do not transcribe, as the cringing,
courtier-like style does not take our fancy, although speaking with much
affection of the wife whose loss he no doubt so deeply mourned.
They had four sons and eight daughters.
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No. 156.
CARDINAL RICHELIEU.
BORN 1585, DIED 1642.
_Red dress and cap of Cardinal. Ribbon and Order._
ARMAND, the son of Francis Duplessis Richelieu, who was Captain of the
Guard to Henry IV. of France. The family was originally of Poitou. Born
at Paris, educated at the Sorbonne. Evinced great talent at an early
age. Went to Rome, where he was elected Bishop of Luchon when only
twenty-two. It is said that he gave himself out for two years older to
Paul V., who, on discovering the deceit that had been practised,
observed, ‘Ce jeune évêque a de l’esprit, mais ce sera un jour un grand
fourbe.’
On Richelieu’s return to France, his insinuating manners and agreeable
conversation, combined with more solid qualities, made him very welcome
at the Court of the Queen-Mother, Mary of Medicis, Regent of the
kingdom. The newly-made bishop was chosen as her Grand Almoner, and
afterwards made Secretary of State. But the Queen fell into disgrace
both with her son and the Government, and was exiled to Blois, where
Richelieu followed her. He paved the way to his own aggrandisement by
effecting a reconciliation between the young King and his mother, for
which he was rewarded with the red hat of a Cardinal.
Louis XIII. in these early days disliked Richelieu, who stood so high in
the Regent’s favour, and warned her: ‘Il est d’une ambition démesurée.’
This was his estimate of the man in whose hands he became later but a
mere puppet.
The rise of Cardinal Richelieu to the zenith of power, and his
administration as Prime Minister, the manner in which he fell and rose
alternately, in the confidence of the Regent and the King, forms one of
the most important pages in the history of France. He always knew how to
right himself in an emergency, and as far as public affairs were
concerned he advanced the power of France in a most eminent degree, and
in so doing gratified his own personal ambition. He was one of the many
who did not scruple to throw down the ladder on which he had risen, and
that in several instances. He hated the Huguenots, and worked against
them, but he hated Austria still more, and, to humble her power, he
assisted the Protestant leaders in Germany, during the Thirty Years’
War, with supplies. He also loved to take down the pride of the French
aristocracy, and no consideration of mercy or rectitude arrested him in
his course, particularly where his own personal animosity urged him
forward. He showed remarkable aptitude for military affairs, and beneath
his rule, as we have said before, the glory of the French arms was much
advanced. He also patronised the arts of peace, founded institutions,
erected many splendid edifices, and built for himself a magnificent
dwelling in Paris, which he called ‘Le Palais du Cardinal,’ now the
Palais Royal, which he bequeathed to Louis XIII. Richelieu loved
literature, and left numerous writings.
His cruel sentence in respect to Cinq Mars, and De Thou, accused of
conspiracy, is a well-known episode in the life of this Minister. He did
not long survive his victims, but died, after great suffering, with
courage and firmness, protesting solemnly in his last hour that his
whole aim in life had been the welfare of his king and country.
He was a man of gallantry, and was said to have presumed so far as to
raise his eyes to the reigning Queen, Anne of Austria, who, however,
much disliked him, and opposed him whenever it was in her power to do
so.
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No. 157.
CHARLES BRANDON, DUKE OF SUFFOLK.
AFTER HOLBEIN.
BORN 1504, DIED 1545.
_Black and red dress. Black cap. Seated. Escutcheon of arms
in the corner._
HE was the son of Sir William Brandon, by Elizabeth, daughter and
co-heir of Sir Henry Bruyn, and widow of one Mallory. Sir William had
been a zealous adherent of Henry Earl of Richmond, afterwards Henry
VII., one of the first assertors of that Prince’s right to the throne of
England, and so much attached to his person, that he forfeited a good
fortune to join his royal friend in Brittany. Brandon returned in
Henry’s suite to England, and sealed his fidelity with his life-blood,
dying on the field of Bosworth by the hand of Richard III. himself. The
favour which could not be awarded to the father was extended to the son,
and King Henry became friend and guardian to the young orphan, who was
bred up at Court, and made the companion and playfellow of the royal
Henry, afterwards the eighth of that name, on whose accession to the
throne Charles Brandon was appointed Esquire of the body, and
Chamberlain of the Principality of Wales.
In 1513 Lord Herbert thus makes mention of him:—‘The gallants of the
Court, finding the King’s favour shine manifestly on Cardinal Wolsey,
applied themselves much to him, and Charles Brandon especially, who for
his goodly person, courage, and conformity of disposition, was noted to
be most acceptable to Henry in all his exercises and pastimes.’
In these pursuits indeed he rivalled his royal master.
The year in which he attracted the notice of Lord Herbert, Brandon first
served with distinction, in an engagement with a French squadron, off
Brest. On his return he was raised to the Peerage by the title of
Viscount L’Isle.
Later on, Lord L’Isle made the French campaign with the King, and fought
at the battle of the Spurs, the siege of Terouenne, etc. etc., holding a
high command in the English army. Thence they marched into Flanders,
reduced Tournay, and were received with splendour and sumptuously
entertained by the Emperor Maximilian. The goodly person and other noble
gifts of Charles Brandon appear to have made an impression on the heart
of the Archduchess Margaret, the Emperor’s daughter. Herbert says: ‘Find
some overtures of a match between Lord L’Isle and the Princess Margaret,
which, though they took no effect, were not yet without much
demonstration of outward grace and favour on her part.’
But Brandon was reserved for a still happier fate. In the early part of
the year 1514, having been created Duke of Suffolk, he formed one of the
band of noble ‘jousters’ who graced the nuptials of Mary Princess of
England, (the King’s sister,) with Louis XII. of France. Historians
differ as to the time at which the germ of a deep attachment sprang up
in the heart of Princess Mary for the captivating young noble. By some
it is maintained that before political considerations had compelled her
to consummate a union with the already aged and feeble King, she had
nourished a tender feeling for her brother’s early playmate; while
others affirm that it was on the occasion of her ill-assorted marriage
that the courage, skill, and grace which he displayed in the chivalrous
exercises, to which we have alluded, captivated her fancy. Be this as it
may, the French King only survived his marriage a few months, and a day
or two after his death the young widow secretly espoused the man she
dearly loved. We have again recourse to Lord Herbert’s testimony.
Speaking of the treaty of peace then pending with France, he
says:—‘Together with the proposing of this treaty, our King sent a
letter to the Queen, his sister, desiring to know how she stood affected
as to her return to England, and desiring her not to match without his
consent. She, on the other hand, who had privately engaged her
affections to Suffolk, made no difficulty to discover herself to both
Kings, (her brother Henry, and Francis I., who had succeeded her late
husband as King of France,) entreating the latter to mediate the
marriage, and our King to approve it, unto which Francis easily agreed.
But our King, for the conservation of his dignity, held off a little;
however, he had long designed her for Suffolk,’ the Queen observing,
‘that if the King would have her married in any place but where her
heart was, she would shut herself up in a religious house.’ And no
wonder she should so speak, being in fact already the wife of Charles
Brandon. Mary took all the blame of this step on herself, striving to
shield her beloved from Henry’s displeasure, who, with the good offices
of Francis, soon restored the pair to his favour. Wolsey also stood
their friend with the King, observing how much better it was that the
Queen had not bestowed her hand on some Frenchman of quality.
They were publicly married, first at Calais, and afterwards at Greenwich
in May 1515. Mary brought her husband enormous wealth. In addition to
her other gifts, of birth and nature, her jointure was 60,000 crowns
annually, besides personal property brought from France, estimated at
200,000, with a diamond of enormous price, entitled ‘Le Miroir de
Naples.’
A disagreement shortly afterwards arose between Suffolk and Cardinal
Wolsey, which caused the Duke to retire for a while into the country,
whence Henry, who could not brook the loss of his society, soon recalled
him. Suffolk reappeared at Court, and accompanied his august
brother-in-law to France, where he was present at the world-famed
interview between the French and English Kings, entitled ‘The Field of
the Cloth of Gold.’ Some years later, Suffolk went again to France in
command of an invading force, where, in spite of the successes which his
courage and military skill insured to the English arms, he was compelled
to retreat in consequence of the scanty manner in which his troops were
provisioned, those being days when the commissariat department was
little understood. This step was blamed by Henry, and it was some time
ere the royal anger could be appeased.
In 1529 Suffolk was a witness in the inquiry on which Henry founded his
plea for the desired divorce from Catherine of Aragon, was one of the
peers who subscribed the declaration to the Pope, threatening the
abolition of the Holy See, should Clement refuse to annul the marriage,
and was also a party to the accusations preferred against Cardinal
Wolsey. For these too ready proofs of his subservience to Henry’s wishes
the Duke was rewarded by considerable grants of Church lands. He was
again called into active service, in order to quell some disturbances in
Lincolnshire and Yorkshire, and in 1544 made his last campaign in
France, reducing the town of Boulogne, after a siege which lasted six
weeks. Previous to his departure from England he made his will,
containing some curious bequests; amongst others, desiring that a cup of
gold should be formed out of his Collar of the Garter, and given to the
King. He ordered that his funeral should be conducted ‘without outward
pomp or pride of the world,’ and that his body should be interred in the
Collegiate Church of Tattershall, in Lincolnshire. But the King’s
special commands overruled his last wishes, and Charles Brandon, Duke of
Suffolk, was buried with unusual magnificence in St. George’s Chapel,
Windsor. He was ‘Justice in Eyre’ of all the King’s forests, and Great
Master or Steward of the royal household.
Charles Brandon was four times married. From his first wife, Margaret,
daughter of John Melville, Marquis Montague, and widow of Sir John
Mortimer, he was divorced at her suit, in consequence of his having
previously signed a contract of marriage with Anne, daughter of Sir
Anthony Browne, Lieutenant of Calais. This lady became his second wife,
and by her he had two daughters, who married Lords Powis and Monteagle.
The Queen-Dowager of France brought him a son, created Earl of Lincoln,
who died young, and two daughters, the eldest married to Henry Clifford,
Earl of Cumberland, and the younger, first to Henry Grey, Duke of
Suffolk, and afterwards to Adrian Stokes. His fourth wife was Catherine,
daughter and heir of William Lord Willoughby d’Eresby, by whom he had
two sons, who both died on the same day, shortly after their father, of
the sweating-sickness, at the Episcopal Palace of Buckden, county Hunts.
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No. 158.
LORD KEEPER WILLIAMS.
PAINTER UNKNOWN.
BORN 1582, DIED 1650.
_Painted on wood. Black eyes, moustaches, and beard. Low-crowned
broad-brimmed hat. Left hand rests on the case of the Great Seal. In
the corner a shield, with many quarterings, surmounted by a mitre.
Inscription: ‘Lord Keeper Williams, Archbishop of York, 1625.’_
JOHN, son of Edmund Williams, by Anne Wynne, (both names that testify to
true Cambrian descent,) born at Aberconway, county Carnarvon, educated
at a Grammar School, where it was said of him, ‘that he was a proficient
in Greek, and Latin, but had little Sassenach.’ He then went to
Cambridge, where all the Welshmen were proud of their countryman’s
talents, although his accent and pronunciation caused an occasional
laugh at his expense. He accepted a small living in Norfolk, and a
better one in Northamptonshire, but still continued to reside for some
time at the University. Lord Chancellor Ellesmere was so taken by his
preaching and his good character that he appointed Williams his private
chaplain, took him into his confidence, and made him his inseparable
companion. Even in the Courts of Chancery and the Star Chamber the young
man sat beside his patron, and as an earnest listener did the future
Lord Keeper begin his legal education. He had the chief command of the
Chancellor’s ecclesiastical patronage, which he dispensed with judgment,
never losing sight for a moment of his own interests. He became a large
pluralist, had two good livings, and stalls in four cathedrals, while a
sermon he preached at Court, on the divine right of kings, insured him
the favour of James I. Prince Henry also admired his preaching, and said
he was ‘an honour to the Principality.’
Lord Ellesmere was now growing old, and made use of his chaplain in all
his business transactions with the King, a fortunate circumstance for
Williams, as James took a great liking for him. When the Chancellor was
dying, he offered his chaplain a reward for his services. ‘I wish for
nothing at your hands,’ was the reply, ‘you have filled my cup so full.
Give me directions how to live in the world, if I survive you.’ ‘You are
an expert workman,’ said the dying man; ‘take these tools, they are the
best I have,’ at the same time giving him his own four treatises, on the
manner of conducting business in the Courts of Chancery, Parliament, the
Star Chamber, and Council.
Lord Bacon, on succeeding to the Woolsack, offered to continue Williams
as his chaplain, but he chose rather to go to his living, and work there
as parish priest, Justice of the Peace, etc. etc., with occasional
visits to London to preach at Court, and keep up his interest there.
Watching passing events, he soon made up his mind, that it was
impossible to rise without the help of the all-powerful Buckingham.
Fortunately for our wary Welshman, an opportunity soon offered to
ingratiate himself into the Duke’s good books. The handsome courtier was
a suitor for the hand of the beautiful heiress, Lady Catherine Manners,
but her father, the Earl of Rutland, considered Buckingham ‘an upstart,’
and the lady was a strict Roman Catholic, and moreover much scandalised
by her lover’s reputation as a man of gallantry. Williams lived near
Belvoir, where he was a frequent and welcome visitor, and Buckingham
asked his mediation. So successfully did he conduct matters, that ere
long all scruples were overcome on the part of father and daughter, and
the latter converted to the Protestant faith, according to the tenets of
which Williams married the couple, having first himself drawn up the
marriage settlements. He used to say, with reason, that this affair was
the keystone in the arch of his fortune.
As a recompence, he demanded and obtained the Deanery of Westminster.
When the cry was raised against Lord Bacon, Williams took part with his
enemies, at first secretly. When the Great Seal was taken from Bacon,
and put into commission for a time, Williams, after some delay, carried
off the prize in spite of numerous competitors,—the King and Buckingham
being both in favour of this most unpopular choice. The lawyers were
irate, that one who had never run in the race should win the garland!
His installation was delayed, and he now set to work to educate himself
for the post he had already attained, studying day and night, and
scarcely allowing time for food or sleep. Indeed we are told that
through life he never slept more than three hours at a time. He had not,
said his Secretary, ‘one drop of lazy blood in his veins.’ He was raised
to the See of Lincoln, and on becoming Lord Keeper, retained all his
ecclesiastical preferment. ‘He had a whole diocese in his
person,—Bishop, Dean, Prebendary, Parson, and Priest.’
Verily the Lord Keeper had feathered his nest! In his legal capacity he
worked strenuously, and chose his advisers well, although at times an
error in technical terms caused a titter in Court. There is a good story
of a certain lawyer attempting a joke at the Lord Keeper’s expense, by
making a sham motion, which was crammed like a grenade with obsolete
words, of far-fetched antiquity, thinking to keep the new Judge in the
dark, and take him at a disadvantage. But we are told it is dangerous to
play with edged tools. The Lord Keeper discovered the plot, and rising,
answered his antagonist in a long speech, in which the words
categorematical and syn-categorematical were among the shortest and
simplest of his polysyllables. The laugh, and the tables, were turned in
an instant. So zealous and skilful was he in the prosecution of his new
duties, that few complaints were heard; but Buckingham and Laud were
both jealous of his growing power, and preferred charges against him,
the latter especially, for betraying ‘the secrets of the Council.’ He
was moreover in bad odour at this time, for the violent part he took
against Abbot, Archbishop of Canterbury, who had accidentally shot Lord
Zouche’s gamekeeper, instead of a deer at which he was aiming. There
were whispers that Williams would not have disliked the post of Primate,
but nothing came of it.
Buckingham returned about this time from Spain, and accused the Lord
Keeper of having plotted against him during his absence. Williams
humbled himself before the great man, who said, ‘I will not seek your
ruin, though I shall cease to study your fortune.’
When King James lay on his deathbed, Williams ministered to him, closed
his eyes, and preached his funeral sermon. Charles, on his accession,
confirmed him in all his offices, but was soon persuaded by Buckingham
to deprive him of the Great Seal. Williams therefore retired to his
palace at Buckden, which, being in a dilapidated condition, he restored,
and lived there in much state.
But he could not place a guard over the door of his lips, and he who had
been accused of employing spies himself, seems to have been surrounded
by them. It was reported at Court, how disrespectfully Williams spoke of
high personages and their doings, and he was forbidden to appear at the
forthcoming Coronation. Many slights and indignities were put upon him,
but for all that, he kept his place on the bench of Bishops, and
supported the popular cause, more especially the famous Petition of
Right. He was now attacked on all sides, and grave charges were made
against him, so that he was dismissed from his seat at the Council
Board, and then brought to trial. Found guilty of manifold crimes and
misdemeanours, he was sentenced to be fined, suspended, and imprisoned.
Accordingly he was arrested and sent to the Tower. Before he was
released, fresh accusations were brought against him, and the fines upon
him were increased; Laud being always foremost in the rank of his
adversaries, for he had no reason to love Williams. It was now proposed
to the prisoner, voluntarily to resign all his offices, including his
bishopric, and to accept an Irish See, but this offer he stoutly
refused. Williams was at length released by the Long Parliament, and all
proceedings against him cancelled. On his appearance at Court, he was
received with open arms, and raised to the Archbishopric of York.
Although professing to disapprove of the attainder of Strafford, he
advised the King most cruelly, and Clarendon says was instrumental in
Strafford’s death. He opposed the Bill for excluding the Bishops from
the House of Lords, and took so active a part that he was once more sent
to the Tower for a short time. During his second imprisonment, (Laud
being then under the same gloomy roof,) the two Archbishops met, and
were reconciled. On his release, Williams entered on a new career, that
of arms, joining the Royal cause with all his heart, and working
strenuously to advance it in Wales. He had a design of fortifying
Carwood Castle in his See, but found the place untenable, being almost a
ruin; and he was obliged to fly in the dead of night, on the approach of
‘those two traitors, Sir John Hotham and his son,’ with scarcely a
change of raiment, without provisions, and not a coin in his purse. The
next day, meeting his royal master by the way, this loyal subject gave
up the best of the horsemen who rode with him, and proceeded to his
native town, which he had left as a mere stripling, about fifty years
before. The Archbishop continued to preach religion, morality, and
loyalty among the Welsh, and repaired and fortified Conway Castle, for
which good service King Charles (whom he joined at Oxford for a time)
appointed him Governor of the same. This displeased Prince Rupert, who
hated Churchmen, and he caused Williams to be superseded,—a circumstance
which rankled deeply in the warlike prelate’s bosom.