STAIRCASE.

No. 1.

JOHN HUGHES.Violet coat. Wig.BORN 1677, DIED 1720.By Sir Godfrey Kneller.

JOHN HUGHES.

Violet coat. Wig.

BORN 1677, DIED 1720.

By Sir Godfrey Kneller.

HE was born at Marlborough, in Wiltshire, but went to London, where his father resided, when quite young; and, being of a delicate constitution, received his education at private schools. He showed an early predilection for the gentle arts of poetry, music, and drawing, yet, when he came to man’s estate, these tastes, which never left him, did not prevent his filling the posts he held under Government with credit, and proving himself a good man of business. He had an appointment in the Ordnance Office, and was secretary to several Commissions for the purchase of lands for the better securing of the Royal Docks and Yards of Portsmouth, Chatham, and Harwich. He found leisure in the midst of his public duties to devote a considerable time to the acquisition of modern languages,with which he supplemented his previous knowledge of Greek and Latin. His first poetic effusion was inspired by the Treaty of Ryswick, and was very popular. He wrote many translations and imitations of classical authors, together with such productions as ‘The Court of Neptune,’—an ode on the return of King William from Holland; and many monodies, elegies, and panegyrics, chiefly in honour of royal personages, which would now be considered but dreary reading. For all that he was much esteemed by the literati of the time, being intimate with Addison, Pope, Rowe, etc.; and Johnson tells us that Addison consulted with him, and even at one time asked his co-operation, in the matter of his tragedy of Cato, which, it appears, was finished, and put on the stage at the instigation of John Hughes. He was also much favoured by men of high standing and position, and when Lord Wharton was made Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, he offered our author an appointment in the sister country. Hughes declined, although at the time in very poor circumstances; but he had another true friend and patron,—the Lord Chancellor Cowper, in whose family he had been tutor. Lord Cowper not only made Hughes secretary for the Commission of the Peace, but, on his own removal from office, recommended him to the notice of his successor. Hughes was now in comparatively affluent circumstances, but his failing health prevented his enjoyment of life. He had consumptive tendencies, and grew gradually weaker. His last work was a drama entitled ‘The Siege of Damascus,’ which set the fashion of sieges innumerable. He completed it a short time before his death, with a dedication to Lord Cowper; but he had no strength to attend the rehearsals, or energy to resist the emendations, alterations, and innovations thrust upon him by the worshipful company of players. The first night of his tragedy’s representation was the last of the author’s life; they brought him word that ‘The Siege’ was progressing satisfactorily; but by that time histhoughts were fixed on the new life which was opening before him, and he made no remark, but passed silently away. Many of his works were published during his life; many more after his death. He was a constant contributor to theSpectator, theGuardian, and similar periodicals; and Steele wrote an eulogistic paper on his death. Two letters which passed between Swift and Pope may perhaps help to enable us (if we accept their testimony) in assigning Hughes a place as an author. The Dean writes: ‘A month ago a friend sent me over the works of John Hughes in prose and verse. I never heard of the man in my life, yet I find your name as a subscriber. He is far too grave a poet for me, and I think among the mediocrists in prose, as well as verse.’ Pope replies: ‘To answer your question about Hughes: what he wanted in genius he made up in honesty; but he was of the class you think him.’

Only a few weeks before his death he sent Lord Cowper the picture of which we are now treating, having been painted for him by Sir Godfrey Kneller,—a very favourable specimen of the artist’s handiwork. Lord Cowper acknowledges the gift in these words:—

‘Sir, I thank you for your most acceptable present of your picture, and assure you that none of this age can set a higher value on it than I do, and shall, while I live,—though I am sensible posterity will outdo me in that particular. I am, with the greatest esteem and sincerity, sir, your most affectionate and obliged humble servant,

‘COWPER.

‘January 24th, 1720.‘

No. 2.

MARY, WIFE OF THE FIRST EARL COWPER.Sitting in a garden. Red dress, trimmed with lace. Holding her scarf.By Sir Godfrey Kneller.

MARY, WIFE OF THE FIRST EARL COWPER.

Sitting in a garden. Red dress, trimmed with lace. Holding her scarf.

By Sir Godfrey Kneller.

No. 3.

SARAH, LADY COWPER.Red dress, Blue scarf. White sleeves.

SARAH, LADY COWPER.

Red dress, Blue scarf. White sleeves.

SHE was the daughter of Sir Samuel Holled, Knight, merchant of London, wife of Sir William Cowper, second baronet, and mother of the Lord Chancellor. She was an eccentric woman, ill favoured and ill tempered, in constant collision with her husband, her sons, and her servants,—in fact, to a certain extent, the terror of the household. She wrote a voluminous diary, still in the possession of her descendant, the present Lord Cowper,—a strange mixture of pious reflections, together with anecdotes more remarkable for breadth than point. Towards the end of her life she became more placable in disposition. She had two sons,—William, the first Earl, and Spencer, the celebrated judge.

No. 4.

FREDERIC, LORD BEAUVALE.Brown velvet suit. Blue cravat. Black cloak, trimmed with fur.Leans against a column, holding his hat.By Partridge.

FREDERIC, LORD BEAUVALE.

Brown velvet suit. Blue cravat. Black cloak, trimmed with fur.

Leans against a column, holding his hat.

By Partridge.

No. 5.

ARNOLD JOOST VAN KEPPEL, LORD OF THE VOORST IN HOLLAND, EARL OF ALBEMARLE, K.G.In complete armour. Wig, Holding a baton. Blue riband.BORN 1674, DIED 1718.By Sir Godfrey Kneller.

ARNOLD JOOST VAN KEPPEL, LORD OF THE VOORST IN HOLLAND, EARL OF ALBEMARLE, K.G.

In complete armour. Wig, Holding a baton. Blue riband.

BORN 1674, DIED 1718.

By Sir Godfrey Kneller.

THE subject of this notice derived his origin from one ‘Walter,’ a knight who flourished in the year 1179. He was one of the seven imperial vassals of Guelderland, who exercised sovereign rights, each in his several domain.

Surnames were not known in the middle of the twelfth century. Walter Van Keppel was probably among the first who made the addition to his baptismal appellation. Towards the close of the century it became customary for each knight to call himself after the spot of ground on which his principal castle was situated. Accordingly, our Walter assumed the name of an islet on the river Issel, on which he created his Hoofdslot, which Hoofdslot is now occupied by the descendants of a female branch of the family. Passing over a long line of ancestors, we arrive at Oswald Van Keppel, Lord of the Voorst, who (the genealogists show) bore sixteen quarterings of nobility on his escutcheon. Oswald dying in 1685, his son, Arnold (whose portrait is under consideration) succeeded to the lordship of Voorst. He was now thirteen years of age, Page of Honour to William of Orange, Stadtholder, and the youngest, liveliest, and handsomest of the fiveDutch noblemen who landed with their illustrious countryman at Torbay on the memorable 5th of November 1688. On his accession to the English throne, WilliamIII.raised his page to the confidential post of amanuensis, and from that time never slackened in his partiality and friendship. In 1695, on Keppel’s attaining his majority, he was created Earl of Albemarle, Viscount Bury, and Baron Ashford, and, shortly afterwards, Knight of the Garter. Mackay, in hisCharacters, describes the new Peer as ‘King William’s constant companion in all his diversions and pleasures,’ and as being after a time intrusted with affairs of the greatest importance. He was beautiful in person, open and free in conversation, and very expensive in his manner of living. ‘About this time,’ says Bishop Burnet, ‘the King set up a new favourite, Keppel, a gentleman of Guelder, who was raised from a page to the highest degree of favour that any person had ever obtained about the King. By a quick and unaccountable progress he engrossed the Royal favour so entirely that he disposed of everything in the King’s power. He was a cheerful young man, that had the art to please, but was so much given to his own pleasure, that he could scarce subject himself to the attendance and drudgery that were necessary to maintain his post; he had not, however, yet distinguished himself in anything. He was not cold or dry, as the Earl of Portland was thought to be, who seemed to have the art of creating enemies to himself, and not one friend; but the Earl of Albemarle had all the arts of Court, and was civil to all.’ If this spoiled child of nature and fortune counted his Court duties as drudgery, the same could not be said of his military avocations. He studied the art of war under his Royal patron, one of the most consummate captains of the day. So satisfied was the teacher with the capacity of his pupil, that he not only initiated him into the secrets of his strategy, but imparted to him no small share in the execution of his projects,—aconfidence which, although placed in so young a man, the King never had reason to repent.

In the year of his elevation to the Peerage, Albemarle accompanied the King on the memorable campaign which ended in the surrender of Namur to WilliamIII., who left his friend behind for the transaction of some necessary business in that town, whilst he proceeded to his Palace of the Loo, before returning to England. Here the news of Albemarle’s sudden and alarming illness so distressed the King that he sent his own physician, the eminent Dr. John Radcliffe, to the sufferer’s assistance. Albemarle soon recovered under the good doctor’s skilful care; and so delighted was the King to have his favourite restored to health, that he acknowledged Radcliffe’s services in the most munificent manner. In addition to his travelling expenses, the Doctor received £400 and a magnificent diamond ring; Radcliffe was also offered a baronetcy, but he declined, on the plea of having no son to inherit the title. In 1698 Lord Albemarle received a grant of 100,000 confiscated acres in Ireland, which grant, however (as in the case of Lord Athlone and others), the Commons of England very properly refused to ratify. The following year the King sent some of the most skilful British artificers to Holland to decorate and beautify the house and grounds of the Voorst, at a cost of £50,000. What this large sum would represent in these days, the writer does not feel competent to hazard an opinion.

In 1701 Lord Albemarle married Gertrude, daughter of Adam van der Duen, Lord of Gravemoor, whose descent is traced by the genealogists of Guelderland to Alphert, ninth Lord of Bridesden, and through him to Siegfried, son of Arnulf, Count of Holland, who died in 999.

The Treaty of Ryswick, in 1697, had procured for Europe a few years’ suspension of hostilities; but in 1702 broke out the Spanish War of Succession, when Albemarle was sent ona mission to Holland by Royal command, but was soon recalled in hot haste to England to his dying master’s bedside.

‘The King,’ says Macaulay, ‘was sinking fast.’ Albemarle arrived at Kensington exhausted by hasty travel, and William bade him rest for some hours. He then summoned him to make his report. It was in all respects satisfactory: the States-General were in the best temper; the troops, the provisions, the magazines were all in good order; everything was in readiness for an early campaign. William received the intelligence with the calmness of a man whose work is done; he was in no illusion as to his danger. ‘I am fast advancing,’ he said, ‘to my end.’

To Albemarle he gave the keys of his closet and private drawers. It was now about seven in the morning. The Bishop knelt down and said the customary prayer: when it was ended, the King was no more. By a codicil to the Royal will, Albemarle came into possession of the lordship of the Breevervoorst and 200,000 guelders.

In June 1702 an heir was born to the house of Keppel, who was named William, after the child’s patron, and Anne, after the reigning sovereign, who stood godmother in person. Shortly after the birth of this son, Lord Albemarle returned to his native country, where he passed the greater part of his time, and took his place as a member of the Assembly of the States-General.

We have not space to do more than glance at his military career. Suffice it to say that he served with distinction successively under four of the greatest commanders of their day,—WilliamIII., Marshal Auverquerque, the Duke of Marlborough, and Prince Eugène of Savoy; all of whom in turn bore public testimony to his merits as a soldier.

In 1712 he was, on the recommendation of the Duke of Marlborough, appointed to the command of the Dutch forces,and on the death of Queen Anne he was sent by the States-General to congratulate GeorgeI.on his accession to the British throne. The new monarch, accompanied by his son, the Duke of Gloucester (afterwards GeorgeII.), was Lord Albemarle’s guest at the Voorst on his first day’s journey towards his new kingdom. In 1717 Albemarle was nominated by the nobles of Holland to compliment Peter the Great on his visit to their country, and he accompanied the Czar in great state to the city, which his Imperial Majesty had first entered as a journeyman carpenter! Arnold Keppel, first Earl of Albemarle, died the following year, and was succeeded by his son, William Anne, Viscount Bury. The portrait of which we are now speaking is a replica of one in the possession of the original’s great-great-grandson, the present bearer of the title. There are several other likenesses in England of this distinguished man, among which may be noted one at Woburn Abbey, that came into the Russell family in consequence of the marriage of Lady Elizabeth Keppel (daughter of the second Earl of Albemarle) with the Marquess of Tavistock in 1764.

No. 6.

WILLIAM LAMB, SECOND VISCOUNT MELBOURNE.Black coat. Hand resting on a table.By Sir George Hayter, R.A.

WILLIAM LAMB, SECOND VISCOUNT MELBOURNE.

Black coat. Hand resting on a table.

By Sir George Hayter, R.A.

No. 7.

GEORGE, THIRD EARL COWPER.

Blue velvet coat. Blue and gold waistcoat, and breeches. Sword. Stick in one hand, Holds his hat in the other above his head, as if in the act of saluting. Landscape in background.

By Zoffany.

He was the first Prince of the Holy Roman Empire in the Cowper family.

No. 8.

JAMES BUTLER, FIRST DUKE OF ORMONDE.In the robes of the Garter. A wand in his hand.BORN 1610, DIED 1688.By Sir Peter Lely.

JAMES BUTLER, FIRST DUKE OF ORMONDE.

In the robes of the Garter. A wand in his hand.

BORN 1610, DIED 1688.

By Sir Peter Lely.

THE biographer of the second Duke thus alludes to the antiquity of the family:—‘It is sufficient for the honour of the house of Ormonde that its original is too ancient to be traced, and that its first descents, even after it became considerable for its possession, power, and alliances, cannot be ascertained.’

According to the above-quoted author, the immediate ancestor of the family, Theobald Walter, accompanied King HenryII.to Ireland about the year 1171, when Roderick, King of Connaught, and many other petty Princes, yielded up their sovereignty to the English monarch. Theobald Walter did Henry good service in the new country, and received as a reward such extensive grants of lands, as determined him totake up his residence in Ireland; and from that time forth the fortunes of the family have been bound up with those of the sister island. The post of Chief Butler (hereditary) was also assigned him, with a further grant of what was called ‘the prisage of wine,’ which entitled Theobald and his descendants to one tun of wine out of nine brought by any ship into Irish ports. In 1315 Edmund le Botillier (it is an open question if the name were derived from the office) was created Earl of Carrick, as a recompense for his loyal services to EdwardII.He was Guardian and Governor of the kingdom of Ireland; and henceforth his descendants in the succeeding reigns were almost invariably connected with the government of that country, whether as Lords-Deputy, Lords-Justices, or Lords-Lieutenant.

Lord Carrick’s son married the King’s cousin, and was in 1322 created Earl of Ormonde. He had also the rights of a Palatine in the county of Tipperary conferred on him,—rights which were taken away and restored again and again in the troubled times of that ever troubled country. Few families in any part of the world have been more remarkable for the vicissitudes of fortune than the Butlers. The seventh Earl of Ormonde died without sons, and left his two daughters very large fortunes; the youngest married Sir William Boleyn, and was grandmother to Queen Anne of that name.

Sir Piers Butler, a distant relative, became heir to the Irish estates, but King HenryVIII., at the instigation of his father-in-law, Sir Thomas Boleyn, prevailed upon him (chiefly, it is said, by conferring on him the title of Ossory) to relinquish the earldom of Ormonde in favour of the said Sir Thomas, on whose death, however, a few years afterwards, the rightful Earl of Ormonde resumed his title. We are induced to give these details in consequence of the strange coincidences which befell the heads of this family in different reigns.

Thomas, the tenth Earl, a man of undaunted courage,who began his military career at an early age, was a great favourite with Queen Elizabeth, and for a time with King JamesI.‘His courage in the field and his spirit in private occurrences were remarkable. He always held the Earl of Leicester at defiance, and did not scruple to charge him to the Queen as a knave and coward.’ There is an amusing anecdote told of the two noblemen meeting one day at Court, in the antechamber. After the usual exchange of civilities, says Lord Leicester, ‘My Lord Ormonde, I dreamed of you last night.’ ‘What could you dream of me?’ inquired the other. ‘That I gave you a box on the ear,’ was the rejoinder. ‘Oh,’ exclaimed Lord Ormonde; ‘do you not know that dreams are always interpreted by contraries?’ and with that he bestowed a hearty cuff on the Royal favourite. This one-sided satisfaction entailed on Ormonde a visit to the Tower; but he was soon released. The Queen had a great fancy for him, in spite of Lord Leicester’s enmity, and used to call him her ‘black husband.’ His dark complexion had gained for him in Ireland the nickname of ‘Dhuiv,’ or ‘the Black.’ He was three times married: first to Elizabeth, daughter and heiress to Thomas, Lord Berkeley; secondly to Elizabeth, daughter of Lord Sheffield; and thirdly to Ellen, daughter of Lord Barry and widow of Lord Poer, whom he married when he was old and blind. He had children by his second wife only,—a son, who died in boyhood, and a daughter, Elizabeth. This young lady married, by her father’s wish, her cousin, Lord Tulleophelim, who died very shortly afterwards without children. King JamesI.obliged the aged Earl of Ormonde, much against his will, to bestow the hand of his widowed daughter on one of his own Scotch favourites, Sir Richard Preston, whom he first created Baron Dingwall, and afterwards, in (what his Majesty was pleased to call) right of his wife, Earl of Desmond, an act which caused universal dissatisfaction in Ireland,—so time-honoured a title to be bestowed on analien. Not content with this deed of injustice, James ordained that Preston should become possessed of the bulk of the Irish property which Thomas, Earl of Ormonde, had bequeathed to his successors in the title. At his death in 1614, the King used every endeavour to persuade Sir Walter Butler (who became eleventh Earl) to yield up his rights in favour of Lord Desmond, but, with the true spirit of his race, he showed a bold front to the tyrant, in consequence of which he was thrown into the Fleet prison, where he remained in captivity for eight years. His eldest son, Lord Thurles, married Elizabeth, daughter of Sir John Poyntz, of Iron Acton, county Gloucester, by whom he had James, first Duke of Ormonde, and several other children.

The subject of our notice was born in 1610 at Newcastle House, in Clerkenwell, belonging to the Duke of that title, but inhabited at the time by Lady Thurles’s father, Sir John Poyntz. The infant was nursed by a carpenter’s wife at Hatfield, and remained in her charge, when his parents returned to Ireland, till he was three years old, when they sent for him; and the Duke used in after years to relate that he could call to mind, even at that tender age, how he had been carried in arms through the streets of Bristol, and what he then noticed on the bridge. He appears to have had a most retentive memory, for he also recollected being taken to visit Thomas, the aged Earl of Ormonde, who was living at his estate of Carrick-upon-Suir, and who felt a great interest in the child, not only as his future heir, but on account of his former friendship with Sir John Poyntz. The Duke often spoke in his later life of the impression his kinsman had made on him: a grand old man, with sightless eyes and long white beard, wearing his George round his neck, which he never laid aside, whether sitting in his chair or lying on his bed. He would take the boy on his knees and caress him, this last year of his life, for EarlThomas died in 1614. James lived on in Ireland with his father and mother, till the unfortunate death of the former, who was drowned off the Skerries on his voyage to England in 1619,v.p.

The little Lord Thurles accompanied his mother to London the following year, and went to school at Finchley, under a Roman Catholic priest, who educated him in his own creed,—the actual Earl of Ormonde and all the younger branches of the family adhering to the Church of Rome. But Thurles was a ward of the Crown, and the King removed him from Finchley, and transferred him to Lambeth Palace, to be brought up as a Protestant, under Abbott, Archbishop of Canterbury. The Primate troubled himself very little as regarded the youth’s education, probably because he received no allowance whatever, even for the maintenance of his pupil. To the young Lord himself James only doled out the paltry sum of forty pounds a year for all expenses. The biographer of the second Duke, in alluding to these circumstances, says that ‘intelligence found means to supply the want of education.’ Even after his marriage Lord Thurles studied Latin, from his uncle’s domestic chaplain, when on a visit to Iron Acton. He also acquired a knowledge of the Irish language, which he found of the greatest service to him during his government, enabling him to communicate personally with the Irish chiefs. He became, indeed, in every way a most accomplished gentleman; his grandfather, the stout-hearted Earl of Ormonde, had endured imprisonment and hardship of all kinds rather than submit to the unjust demands of the King, or surrender his lawful rights, but at the expiration of eight years he was released, and a great portion of his estates restored to him,—upon which he hired a house in Drury Lane, and sent for his grandson from Lambeth Palace to come and reside with him. Lord Thurles was delighted with his emancipation from the dull atmosphere ofthe Primate’s roof. He mixed in all the gaieties of the town, and took especial pleasure in theatrical representations and in the society of the leading members of the profession. He was also a frequent attendant at Court, by the express wish of Lord Ormonde, who left him in London to make his way in the world, while he returned to Ireland to look after the property, which had been long neglected. The circumstances attending the marriage and courtship of Lord Thurles were of so romantic a nature, that we are induced to give them in detail, although reluctant to record a stumble on the threshold of so noble a career. It was at Court that he first saw his cousin, Lady Elizabeth Preston, daughter to Lord Dingwall and Desmond, already mentioned, by Lady Elizabeth Butler. She was a ward of the King’s, who had placed her under the care of Henry, Earl of Holland, who held an office at Court. Though very young, she had a perfect knowledge of all the family disputes, and had been much influenced in Lord Thurles’s favour by the advice of her kinsman, Lord Mountgarret, who not only highly commended the young man, but pointed out to the heiress that their union would be a means of reconciling all former difficulties. When the cousins met at Court, Elizabeth ‘liked the person of the young Lord, which was very handsome, his mien and manner witty, insinuating; and the vivacity of his parts, with the sprightly turn of his wit, made the conversation most pleasing to her.’ This was remarked on, and the King admonished Lord Thurles not to meddle with his ward. The secret of this was that the Duke of Buckingham had arranged with Lord Desmond that his nephew, Lord Feilding, should espouse Lady Elizabeth Preston, with a remainder to their heirs of her father’s titles. The said Earl of Desmond had also received from the King the power over the wardship and marriage of Lord Thurles, so that there seemed but little hope of the union on which the cousins had set their hearts. ButElizabeth had the spirit of her race. Her affections were irrevocably fixed, and she was in a humour to say with the beautiful bride of Van Artevelde:—

‘Me shall no earthly potentate or princeToss, like a morsel of his broken meat,To any suppliant: be they advisedI am in wardship to the King of kings,God and my heart alone dispose of me.’

‘Me shall no earthly potentate or prince

Toss, like a morsel of his broken meat,

To any suppliant: be they advised

I am in wardship to the King of kings,

God and my heart alone dispose of me.’

Now Lord Holland was inclined to further Lord Thurles’s suit, actuated thereto, it was said, by pecuniary inducements; but the Royal commands were not to be disobeyed, openly at least. There was one in the house, however, who was in a position to assist the lovers, and that was Lady Isabella Rich, Lord Holland’s daughter, Elizabeth’s chosen friend, and sister in all but name,—a lovely, sharp-witted girl of her own age. She admitted Lord Thurles every day, at all hours, in a clandestine manner; nor did her parents object or interfere, but allowed her to make a feint of herself receiving the young man’s addresses; and implicit trust was placed by all parties in Isabella’s rectitude.

Alas for the compact! which we must believe was begun in good faith. Lord Thurles, as we have said, was young, handsome, agreeable,—captivating, in fact, and therôleof confidante is proverbially dangerous. In an evil hour he forgot his loyalty to his betrothed, and Isabella forgot her friend, herself, her duty, and all but her infatuation for the man who was playing a double part by the two girls. Few romances can outdo this real history in sensational incident. Lord Desmond was drowned about the same time as his wife died, and the latter left as her last injunction that Elizabeth should marry her cousin, and thus restore the property to the rightful branch,—for Lady Desmond had never been easy in her mind over these unlawful acquisitions. Buckingham was assassinated, and King CharlesI.gave the Royal consent tothe union of the cousins; ‘and so,’ says the biographer of the great Duke of Ormonde (who, by the way, makes very light of this episode), ‘the marriage was joyously celebrated, and everybody content.’ We are not informed how the unfortunate Lady Isabella fared on the occasion; her content could not have been great; but thedénouementremains to be told, and though, as a matter of dates, it should come much later, we think it advisable to finish the concluding acts of the drama in this place.

Several years afterwards, when Lord Ormonde was in Paris, he went to the Academy to visit a handsome and intelligent youth, whom he had sent thither for his education; whereupon he sat down, and wrote a long description of the boy to Lady Isabella (then the wife of Sir James Thynne of Longleat), being a subject in which they had a common interest. As ill-luck would have it, he at the same time indited a letter to his wife, and misdirected the covers. While Lady Ormonde was making the discovery that she had been cruelly deceived and betrayed by the two people she at that time loved best in the world, Lady Isabella came in, and found her reading the fatal letter.

Tears, sobs, caresses—an agitating scene—ensued. Isabella humbled herself before the woman she had so grievously injured, and sought by every means of fascination that she possessed, to soften her just resentment. Lady Ormonde, generous and high-minded, almost beyond belief, raised the suppliant, who was kneeling at her feet, with the promise not only of forgiveness, but of unchanging friendship,—a promise nobly kept, as we shall see later. Scarcely more marvellous is the fact, for we cannot doubt the evidence, that Lady Ormonde not only never upbraided her husband, but from that day kept a profound silence on the subject. Nor was this all. Some time afterwards, when Lady Ormonde was residing with her children at Caen, she received a letter fromLady Isabella, who had again got herself into hot water, recalling her promise of unchanging friendship, and asking for shelter. The generous-hearted exile not only welcomed her old companion to share her small house and straitened means, but allowed her to remain for nearly two years under her roof, during which time Lord Ormonde was a constant visitor. The destinies of the two women, who had been early friends, but whose characters were diametrically opposed, were strangely entangled,—Lady Isabella, being described in a contemporary journal as ‘one of those rattle-brained ladies,’ was most eccentric, to say the least of it, and full of ‘strange vagaries;’ while Lady Ormonde was remarkable for sound sense and judgment, and for her dignified and stately deportment. We make an extract bearing on this subject from the Life of Roger Boyle, Lord Broghill, afterwards Earl of Orrery. This nobleman, who, like his father and his brothers, was a zealous Royalist, was surprised one day at receiving a summons from the Protector, who bluntly offered him a high command in the army in Ireland under Government. Broghill gave for answer that nothing should induce him to take arms against the King, his master. ‘No one asked you to do so,’ was the angry retort; ‘I offer you the alternative of serving England against the Irish insurgents, or proceeding without delay to the Tower of London.’

The first choice was the most palatable, and Broghill returned to Ireland, where he continued to give proofs of his courage and martial skill. Between him and Lord Ormonde there had been some disagreement, but they were reconciled, and Broghill ever afterwards remained the fast friend of both husband and wife, and, standing high in the Protector’s favour, in consequence of his military services, more than one opportunity presented itself of being useful to them. He had come over from Ireland, when the Protector sent for him, and thusaddressed him: ‘If you are still interested in my Lord Ormonde’s safety, you had better advise him to leave London. We know all about him, where he is, what he is doing, and he had best absent himself.’

The hint was given and taken, and Lord Ormonde left England accordingly. A short time elapsed, when one day Lady Ormonde was much distressed at receiving a domiciliary visit from one of Cromwell’s functionaries, who ransacked the house, and carried away every paper he could find. She immediately sent for her faithful friend, and besought him to intercede once more in her behalf. Broghill lost no time; he hurried off to Whitehall, and found the autocrat in a towering passion. ‘You have undertaken, indeed,’ he said, ‘for the quietness of a fine person. I have allowed my Lady Ormonde £2000 a year out of her husband’s estates, because they were sufferers in Ireland. But I find she is a wicked woman, and I promise you she shall pay for it.’ It was some time before Lord Broghill could gain a hearing, but when he was permitted to speak, he asked what proof could be adduced of Lady Ormonde’s guilt, upon which Cromwell threw him a letter, that certainly left no doubt of the writer’s Royalist tendencies and disaffection to the existing Government. ‘This was found,’ said the Protector, ‘in searching the escritoire at Lord Ormonde’s house.’ Lord Broghill could not help laughing. ‘But this,’ he observed, ‘is not the writing of my Lady Ormonde.’ ‘Indeed,’ rejoined Cromwell angrily, ‘and pray who wrote these lines?’ Bent on saving his friends, Lord Broghill not only explained the letter was from Lady Isabella Thynne (between whom and Lord Ormonde there had been undoubted love passages), but he produced some other letters from the same lady to identify the handwriting, and further proceeded to relate several anecdotes of a most lively nature respecting her, which turned all Cromwell’s wrath into merriment, and helaughed immoderately. Broghill’s judicious conduct had gained his friends’ cause.

We have forestalled events in order to finish the romance of which Lady Isabella Thynne was the heroine, and we must now turn back to the year 1629, being that of the marriage. Lord Thurles took his bride to the house of his maternal uncle, in Gloucestershire, where they remained a year, and then proceeded to Carrick, in Ireland, where his grandfather lived, and where he began his military career by purchasing a troop of horse. He went to Scotland, and then to England, and succeeding to the title of Ormonde on Earl Walter’s death, returned to Ireland in 1633. There he began a life of activity, which never ceased from that time forward. Many passages in Carte’s Life of the ‘great Duke’ tend to confirm our previous remark, that Irish history, more than that of any other nation, verifies the saying, ‘Que l’histoire se répète.’

Great were the expectations raised all over the kingdom, in 1623, of important matters to be done on the coming over of a new Lord-Deputy, endowed with a larger measure of authority, etc. This was Lord Wentworth, who arrived in Dublin in July 1633. Lord Ormonde did not delay to repair thither, in order to pay his respects to my Lord Wentworth, who, chancing to observe him from a window, as he was crossing the Castle-yard, observed to the standers-by, ‘If I possess any skill in physiognomy, that young man will be the chief of his family.’

At the outset of their acquaintance, an incident occurred which threatened to make a breach between these two high spirits, but, instead thereof, cemented a friendship, which was only terminated by the untimely death of Lord Strafford. During the session of the Irish Parliament, the Lord-Deputy had found it advisable to prohibit the Lords wearing their swords, lest, in the heat of argument, they might have recourseto sharper weapons than those of eloquence. The order was obeyed in every instance, save that of my Lord Ormonde, who, when the Usher of the Black Rod insisted on his disarming, replied angrily, marching on in a stately manner, and taking his seat in the House, ‘You shall have no sword of mine, except through your body.’ On being summoned before the Lord-Deputy for this open act of insubordination, he proudly drew forth the King’s warrant for his admission to the Privy Council. The Lord-Deputy was satisfied, and the two noblemen became fast friends. When evil days fell on Strafford, and the Irish Parliament joined the English in hastening his downfall, Lord Ormonde pleaded his cause in the Upper House with so much reason and eloquence as to bias a considerable party in Strafford’s favour, at least for a time. The letters which passed between them during the latter’s imprisonment were couched in the most affectionate terms. Writing from the Tower, the captive tells his friend that he has recommended him to the King for the Lord-Deputyship of Ireland; and later he writes: ‘There is so little rest given to me, my noble Lord, that I have scarce time to eat my bread. Your Lordship’s favours to me in my afflictions are such as have and shall level my heart at your foot so long as I live.’

On the eve of his execution, Strafford intrusted Archbishop Usher with some last requests to the King, amongst which was the earnest hope that the Earl of Ormonde should have his vacant Garter. The offer was made; but Lord Ormonde declined, saying that his loyalty needed no such stimulus, and that the honour might be more advantageously bestowed for the King’s service.

At the breaking out of the Irish rebellion, the King wished to appoint him Lord-Deputy, but was overruled by the Parliament, which had resolved on Lord Leicester. He was however selected by the Lords-Justices in Irelandfor the chief command of the forces in that country. The appointment was an excellent one. He was successful against the rebels for a considerable period, and his services were (for a time) duly appreciated by the English Commons, who voted a large sum of money to purchase him a jewel of great value. They also recommended him to the King for the Garter, an honour that was bestowed later on a most deserving knight. Ormonde was indeed as chivalrous as he was brave, keeping good faith with his savage adversaries; and a noble answer given by him is worthy to be recorded here. One of the native chiefs threatened to take reprisals on Lady Ormonde and his family. ‘My wife and dear ones,’ said the General, ‘are in your power; but for myself, I should never be dastardly enough to revenge any offence they received on the women and children of my enemies.’

After a while his popularity began to wane, and he became a mark for jealousy and calumny on both sides of St. George’s Channel. The Lords-Justices thwarted him in his campaigns, and stinted him in supplies, and the Lord-Deputy Leicester never let slip an opportunity of doing him an evil turn, both in public and private. The King, however, remained his staunch friend, and wrote him a most flattering letter, renewing his command of the army, and raising him to the grade of a Marquis. The account of the Irish rebellion would, and indeed has, filled many a large volume, and concerns history rather than biography. We cannot do more than glance at events, in which Lord Ormonde himself bore so distinguished a part. After giving the most striking proofs of valour, patriotism, and loyalty in his encounters with the insurgents, under difficulties of almost unparalleled hardship, want of supplies, provisions, and the like, he found himself compelled to agree to a cessation of arms for twelve months. The news of this treaty was received with much disapprobation in England, and was represented by the enemies of Ormondeand of the King, as ‘an unseasonable and unnecessary concession;’ but Charles was duly impressed with the honour and ability of his faithful servant, and resolved to make him Lord-Lieutenant in the stead of Lord Leicester. The gallant General was unwilling to accept the post, but was persuaded to do so, ‘without much hope, indeed, of serving the Crown, or remedying many of the disorders.’

During his tenure of office, political and religious factions were at their height in this most unhappy country, and intrigues on both sides of St. George’s Channel were carried on against the Lord-Lieutenant, paralysing his efforts, till he had no choice but to conclude a peace,—a peace that was no peace. Conspiracies of all kinds were hatched,—and one in particular was discovered, the aim of which was to seize the person of Lord Ormonde in his own castle of Kilkenny, whence he escaped with much difficulty to Dublin, where he was besieged by the insurgents. He held out till all his supplies were exhausted, and he had lost every hope of redress. The King was a prisoner in the hands of the Roundheads, who had sent over Commissioners to Ireland; there was no choice left for Ormonde but to surrender to the Irish, or English rebels. He chose the latter alternative, and, delivering up the keys to the Commissioners, embarked for England, followed by the prayers and good wishes of the well-affected among the citizens, but more especially of the poorer clergy, whose wives and children had been saved from starvation by his bounty and that of his excellent wife. He reached England, went first to Iron Acton, gained a pass from General Fairfax which gave him access to the King (then a prisoner in his own palace of Hampton Court), and hired a lodging at Kingston-on-Thames, in order to remain in the vicinity. He had frequent intercourse with his Royal master, who fully appreciated all his devoted friend and subject had dared and done for his service, and reiterated his opinion that no one else was qualified to fill the post ofViceroy of Ireland. But this view of the case did not fall in with the notions of those in authority, and Ormonde received intimation to the effect that it would be advisable for him to leave England, which he accordingly did, and, crossing to Dieppe, proceeded to Paris, to join the Queen, Henrietta Maria, and the Prince of Wales.

While residing in the French capital, Lord Ormonde kept up a continuous correspondence with the loyalists in Scotland, and more especially with the influential leaders in Ireland. There had existed a feud between the Lords Ormonde and Inchiquin and Lord Broghill, General of the Horse, but it was not difficult to bring about a reconciliation between three devoted servants of the Crown. Lord Ormonde was at length prevailed on by the wishes of the Queen and Prince, as also by the earnest solicitations of the Royalists in Ireland, to return to that country, and resume his post as Lord-Lieutenant. He had, during his stay in Paris, entered into communication with many leading members of the Roman Catholic religion, with a view to a pacification between the two opposing creeds on his return, and had also endeavoured to raise at the French Court a sufficient sum to insure him proper supplies; but in this respect he was wofully disappointed, and he landed in Cork with the miserable sum of thirty French pistoles in his military chest.

Everything was against him in Dublin,—the hands of the Parliamentarians, Cromwell’s emissaries spread far and wide over the country, while Prince Rupert, who commanded a Royalist fleet on the coast, was less assistance than detriment to the cause, from his unceasing jealousy and rivalry of other officials. The news of the King’s execution was received with consternation by his partisans in Scotland and Ireland, and with profound grief by Lord Ormonde, who caused the Prince of Wales to be instantly proclaimed, and wrote off to him urging the advisability of his coming over in person,—ascheme which was not carried out. The Lord-Lieutenant was now engaged in negotiations of a pacific nature with the so-called ‘old Irish party’ (headed by Phelim O’Neill, and other leading Roman Catholics), and he concentrated all his energies on gaining possession of Dublin. But the death of O’Neill, the arrival of Cromwell with a large body of troops, and the number of desertions, all conduced to render his position untenable. He only waited for the King’s sanction to leave Ireland, and once more embarked for France, where, after a most tempestuous voyage, he joined his wife and children at Caen, and passed many months between that temporary home and Paris, where he finally joined the king, as a regular attendant, after Charles’s escape from the battle of Worcester.

Ormonde was now reduced to the greatest straits, having but one pistole a week for his board, and being obliged ‘to go afoot, which is not considered reputable in Paris;’ added to which, his wife found it impossible to live on at Caen, even in the modest style to which she had lately been accustomed; and the King had nothing to spare out of his scanty pittance to assist his friends. In these trying circumstances, it was arranged that Lady Ormonde should go to England in person, and endeavour to gain some redress from Parliament. It was no agreeable errand, but the lady was well qualified to act with spirit and determination, tempered by tact; and she did not shrink from the undertaking.

Her dignity of demeanour and her courage were proverbial. It had been said of her that she had the spirit of old Earl Thomas; and she knew how to inspire Cromwell with respect. In her interviews he always treated her with the greatest consideration, and accompanied her downstairs to her coach or chair, although she was kept long in suspense about her financial demands, and the great man often answered her arguments by a shrug of the shoulders. It may not come intothe proper place, as far as dates are concerned, but, speaking of her relations with the Protector, we must allude to an audience she had of him later. Cromwell was very jealous of the growing power and popularity of Lord Ossory, and although he had already granted him a pass to travel beyond seas, he suddenly thought it safer to have him seized, and sent to the Tower. His mother immediately proceeded to Whitehall, or wherever Cromwell was holding his reception at the time, and asked her son’s freedom, saying she knew not who were his accusers, or of what crime they accused him, but that she would answer with her life for her son’s innocence. Cromwell begged to be excused giving her an answer, but observed he had much more reason to be afraid of her than of anybody else.

‘I desire no favour,’ said the noble petitioner aloud, before the hundreds who were present on the occasion, ‘but do consider it strange that I, who have never been implicated in any plot, and never said a word against the Protector, should be considered so terrible a person!’

‘No, madam, that is not exactly the case,’ replied Oliver; ‘but your worth has gained you so great an influence over all the commanders of our party, and we know so well your power over the other side, that it is in your Ladyship’s breast to act what you please.’

The incident speaks well for both parties, and Oliver, with all his faults, had learned to respect a noble woman when he encountered one, being blest as he was in his wife and mother. After many delays and heartburnings, the Parliament authorised Lady Ormonde to receive from the Irish Commissioners a yearly income for herself and children of £2000 out of her own inheritance, together with the house of Donnemore, near Kilkenny, for their residence.

Here she took up her abode, and never saw her Lord again till the Restoration. The treaty which was concludedbetween the Protector and the Court of France rendered it imperative on the English King to leave Paris, and, accordingly, accompanied by Ormonde, he proceeded to Spa (to meet his sister, the Princess of Orange), and afterwards to Aix-la-Chapelle and Cologne.

From the latter place he despatched Lord Ormonde to Paris on an errand of trust and difficulty. The young Duke of Gloucester had been sent to the French capital with a hardly-wrung permission from Oliver to pursue his education under the auspices of his mother, who had pledged her word to the King not to tamper with the boy’s religion,—an oath which Henrietta Maria evidently thought ‘more honoured in the breach than the observance.’

She accordingly separated the Duke from his Protestant tutor, and placed him under the care of a Jesuit priest, where she frequently visited him, and by alternate coaxing and threatening strove to bring her child over to her own creed. The boy stood firm, and declared he would never disobey his father’s last injunctions, but the Queen’s menace of never seeing his face again grieved his affectionate nature so much as to injure his health. Ormonde arrived in Paris, armed with the King’s authority to convey the Duke of Gloucester to Cologne, but the necessary funds for travelling expenses were not forthcoming, so the Duke went to reside for a time in Paris with Lord Hatton, a firm Royalist and faithful Protestant. Lord Ormonde was not one to be baffled in any undertaking in which he was engaged: he pawned his Garter, and the jewel which the Parliament had given him, to defray the cost of the journey; and he set out with his young charge, travelling for safetyviaAntwerp, where he was like to have died of a fever. At length, however, he placed the youth under the protection of the King, his brother, and they remained together till the Restoration took them to England.

So temperately and judiciously had Lord Ormonde conductedthis affair, that the King was deeply grateful to him, and he still kept a tolerable hold on the good graces of the Queen, and was, indeed, afterwards instrumental in bringing about a reconciliation between mother and son. He was now employed in several diplomatic missions of importance, especially with the Court of Spain, and he ventured into England, at the risk of life and freedom, in order to communicate with the Royalists at home. He landed on the coast of Essex in disguise, and went to London, where he layperdu, only venturing out at nightfall, and running the gauntlet of many dangers and adventures, which were not without some charm for a man of his spirit.

We cannot refrain from alluding to an incident, which, though in reality trivial, has a laughable side, and there has been little that is laughable to record in the life of Lord Ormonde. He often changed his lodgings, and was constantly reconnoitring the premises with a view to escape, changing his clothes, generally lying down dressed. He had an aversion to wearing a periwig, so a friend gave him a dye to turn his own hair black, but the lotion was badly mixed, and the ingredients deleterious, so that poor Lord Ormonde’s head was not only scalded, but his hair came out in party-coloured patches of every variegated hue, more likely to attract than elude observation.

He returned to Paris, having proved, what was already undoubted, his courage and zeal to the King’s service, but with no other good result. His presence in the French capital was almost as dangerous as it had been in London, for Cromwell had set a price upon his head, and the Cardinal Mazarin, who was then Prime Minister, was by no means insensible to the charms of money.

The liberality of Lord Ormonde, even in his straitened circumstances, had like on one occasion to have been productive of unfortunate results, and the incident teaches alesson of the necessity of studying the peculiar manners and customs of foreign countries in contradistinction to our own. Lord Ormonde was much respected and courted by the French nobility, to one of whom he paid a visit near St. Germains, and on his departure, according to the well-known English fashion of ‘vails’ or parting gifts, he presented themaître d’hôtelwith ten pistoles, being the whole contents of his purse.

Riding onward, as we may imagine rather disconsolately, the Marquis was startled by the sound of wheels driving furiously; and, looking back, perceived his late host’s coach gaining on him. He reined in his steed, sprang from the saddle, and embraced his friend, who alighted at the same moment. Lord Ormonde was surprised at a decided coldness in the Frenchman’s manner and tone of voice, as he said, ‘After you left the château, I heard a great disturbance among the servants of my household, and, inquiring into the cause, found them all quarrelling over their share of the money which your Lordship, for some inexplicable motive, had given to mymaître d’hôtel. I am come to ask if you found any fault with your treatment in my house?’

‘On the contrary,’ warmly responded Lord Ormonde.

‘Then why did you treat it as an inn? I pay my servants well to wait on me and my guests. I do not know, my Lord, if this be the custom in your country, but assuredly it is not so with us. Here are the ten pistoles, which I have rescued from my servants’ grasp; you must either take them back at my hands, or else your Lordship must give me on the spot that satisfaction which no gentleman can refuse another.’

We may believe the affair turned into one of laughter rather than of ‘honour,’ when Lord Ormonde explained that in his country such amenities were invariably practised by guests at leave-taking.

The King of England was now at Brussels, hampered andentangled by fruitless negotiations with foreign powers, and he sent for his right hand, Lord Ormonde.

Short cuts are proverbially dangerous, and so thought the Marquis, who, taking horse, rode from Paris,viaLyons and Geneva, through the Palatinate to Brussels, where he joined the King, who, failing in his Spanish views, had formed an idea of marrying the daughter of Frederic Henry, the Stadtholder. But the Dowager Princess of Orange, who was very powerful at her son’s Court, opposed the design so strongly that the match was prevented.

Meanwhile Lord Ormonde’s eldest son, the Earl of Ossory, fell in love with Emilia, daughter of Louis de Nassau, Lord of Auverquerque, a natural son of Maurice, Prince of Orange. Louis was much esteemed, both for character and position, and had considerable weight in the Assembly of the States. At first he was persistent in his demands that Lord Ormonde should come forward with good settlements, but, being made to understand the state of Irish affairs, he was content to accept what Lord Ossory’s mother (who could deny nothing to her first-born) contrived to spare out of her hardly gained pittance. Moreover, he found the young couple were devotedly attached, and that Ossory had refused a more advantageous marriage with the daughter of the Earl of Southampton, in consequence of his preference for Emilia; and so the marriage was arranged, Lord Ormonde himself nothing loath that his son’s happiness should be assured by a connection which he hoped might also prove beneficial to the King’s interests. One of Lord Ossory’s daughters married Auverquerque, Earl of Grantham, and their daughter, Henrietta (eventually sole heiress to her grandfather), married the second Lord Cowper. From this lady the present Earl lays claim, not only to titles and estates, but to a lineal descent from the illustrious patriot, William the Silent.

Better times were in store, of however short duration. The Restoration was at hand, and Ormonde, as may have beenexpected, was one of those faithful friends whom the King ‘delighted to honour.’ He was made Lord Steward of the Household, Duke of Ormonde in the peerage of Ireland, Earl of Brecknock and Baron Lantony in that of England, and all his estates, dignities, and privileges in the sister country of which he had been deprived, restored to him, though, as far as emolument went, some were scarcely more than nominal. He walked at the coronation as Lord Steward, and carried St. Edward’s crown. The Viceroyalty of Ireland, having been offered to and declined by the Duke of Albemarle, was next proffered to the Duke of Ormonde, who undertook the thankless task with eyes sharpened by long experience; and in so doing he remarked to a friend: ‘Besides many other disadvantages, there are two proper to me—one of the contending parties believing that I owe them more kindness and protection than I find myself chargeable with, and the other suspecting I entertain that prejudice to them from which I am free. This temper will be attended undeniably in them with clamour and scandal upon my most equal and wary deportment,’—a prophecy which was too soon and too exactly fulfilled. The Lord-Lieutenant was received with great pomp and splendour, and a sum of several thousands voted to facilitate his acceptance of the dignity; but a year had not elapsed before a deeply-laid plot was discovered to seize the Castle of Dublin and the person of his Excellency; and though the principal conspirators were arrested, and some executed, the arch-traitor Blood, who was one of them, escaped, with a vow of vengeance in his heart against the Duke, as will be seen hereafter.

Once more in straits for troops for the King’s service, and money to pay them, Ormonde wrote to the Duke of Albemarle, asking for five hundred men, to which request he got the unsatisfactory reply, that Monk himself had not that number in his whole army upon whose fidelity he couldrely. Ormonde, however, was not discouraged, as we shall see by an extract from the author already quoted, speaking of all the difficulties with which the Lord-Lieutenant had to contend. ‘He was not less indefatigable and prudent than his enemies were indefatigable, industrious, and artful, but turned his whole thoughts to raising the distressed kingdom of Ireland, both in character and circumstances. He gave the greatest encouragement to learning, fostered trade, and revived the linen manufacture, which had been founded by Lord Strafford.’ It seems strange that the Irish, who are among the best and most skilful artificers of any nation, should scarcely ever have persisted in any manufacture, among the many that have been set on foot at different times, with the exception of this branch, in which they have for so many years been paramount. The Duke also advocated for Ireland the advantages of free trade to all foreign nations, in peace and war; for no ingratitude on the part of his countrymen ever induced Ormonde to neglect their interests in matters ecclesiastical, civil, or military. Added to which, he made the most liberal sacrifices of his own personal property to advance the interests of the King and the country he ruled; yet notwithstanding, he was made the mark for calumny and persecution, in England as well as in Ireland, and the Duke of Buckingham hated and envied him, and meditated an impeachment, while Lords Arlington and Shaftesbury were most inimical to him, neither was he a favourite with the Queen-Mother, in spite of all the services he had rendered her.

Another formidable adversary was Barbara, Countess of Castlemaine, afterwards Duchess of Cleveland, the rapacious mistress of CharlesII., who had given her the Lodge in Phœnix Park, Dublin. The Lord-Lieutenant refused to confirm the grant, stopped the warrant, declaring that it was the proper summer quarter for himself and his successors inoffice. Barbara, as may be expected, never forgave this interference. Meeting the Duke one day while he was in London, in the precincts of the Court, she fell on him with abusive and insulting words, and concluded by saying she devoutly wished she might live to see him hanged. His Grace listened with a calm, imperturbable smile to these ravings, and said he was not in such hot haste to put an end to her Ladyship’s existence; he should be quite content to live long enough to see her old and ugly. Neither did the faithful friendship which existed between the Duke and the Earl of Clarendon, whose star was now waning, redound to the worldly advantage of the former.

He made more than one journey to England to give an account of his stewardship to the King, as also to look after his own interests, well knowing what numbers were plotting against him. Burnet, Pepys, Evelyn, all pay their tribute to the Duke during his residence in London at this time, when Charles, who esteemed him in his heart, was too weak to uphold him against his arrogant favourite and his other slanderers. Pepys says: ‘I do hear that my Lord of Ormonde shall not hold his government of Ireland any longer, which shows the power of Buckingham and the poor spirit of the King, and the little hold that any man can have of him.’ Again: ‘This day I do hear that my Lord Ormonde is to be declared in Council no more Lord-Deputy of Ireland; his time of commission having expired, the King is prevailed with to take it out of his hands, which people do mightily admire’ (how many meanings may lie in the same word!), ‘saying he is the greatest subject of any Prince in Christendom, and hath done more for his Prince than any ever yet did, but he must down, it seems: the Duke of Buckingham carries all before him;’ and so forth. But the machinations of his enemies succeeded. Lord Robartes reigned in his stead, while the Duchess went over to Dublin to break up the establishment,and received an ovation from the people there. Oxford, of which University the Duke had been made Chancellor, came forward to show him all the respect he deserved, but no longer received, at the hands of the weak-spirited Charles, whom he continued to serve so faithfully. Archbishop Sheldon, speaking of the Duke’s firmness and temper, which he showed in the melancholy occasion of his disfavour at Court, says it insured the admiration of all bystanders beyond everything he had ever done before,—indeed it was the most glorious part of his life. One of the principal causes of the King’s coldness was the resolution Ormonde had formed, and from which he never swerved: he would not truckle to those female harpies who were ruining the King not only in his pocket, but in the estimation of his people. So dignified was Ormonde’s demeanour that Buckingham asked Charles, ‘Will your Majesty answer me one question: Is it the Duke who is out of favour with the King, or the King with the Duke? for, upon my word, it is your Majesty who looks most out of countenance when you are together.’

People who were not cognisant of the real state of affairs at Court would sometimes ask him to intercede for some favour, which caused him to reply: ‘I have no longer the power to help, only to hurt.’ One day Carey Dillon, afterwards Lord Roscommon, came and requested the Duke to assist him with the King in some private affair, saying, ‘I have no friends but God and yourself.’ ‘Alas!’ said Ormonde, ‘poor Carey, I pity thee; thou couldst not have two friends who have less interest at Court or less respect shown them there.’

The Prince of Orange being over in England, the Duke had been in attendance on his Highness at a banquet given by the City of London, and was returning to Clarendon House, where he then lived, in his coach, which was so large that he had caused iron spikes to be placed at the back, lesthis footmen should get up, and make it too heavy for the horses; so six of them walked by the side; but, in spite of this escort, the coach was stopped by the notorious Blood and several accomplices, who had been on the watch in St. James’s Street. They dragged out the Duke, and placed him behind a horseman, tightly bound by a rope, with orders that the prisoner should be conveyed to Tyburn, while Blood galloped on in front to prepare the gallows, with his own hands, for the execution of the man he detested. But Ormonde made a stalwart resistance; he struggled so violently as to impede the progress of the horseman, and at length, getting his foot under the stirrup, upset his captor, and they both rolled off together on the pavement. Meantime the coachman had hastened home, alarmed the servants, with whom he tore off in pursuit, and by the light (not of the stars of heaven, but) of the star which the Duke wore, and which glittered in the flicker of the lamps, they found the struggling pair, and, rescuing their beloved master, conveyed him home almost senseless. It was naturally supposed that Blood would suffer condign punishment; but to the surprise of all—saving, perhaps, the Duke of Buckingham and the Duchess of Cleveland—the King not only pardoned him, but gave him later on an estate in Ireland! It was currently believed at Court that Buckingham had a hand in this attempt on Ormonde’s life, and Lord Ossory taxed him with it one day at Court.

‘I give you warning,’ said the eager young man, ‘that if my father comes to a violent death by the hand of a ruffian, or by secret way of poison, I shall not be at a loss to know who is the author, but consider you the assassin, and whenever I meet you will pistol you, though it be behind the King’s chair. And I tell you this in his Majesty’s presence, that you may know I will keep my word,’—a threat which the blustering Duke seems to have found himself obliged to put up with; at all events, it was said that when Blood was triedfor stealing the Regalia, he accused Buckingham on this count; and the King, whose unreasonable clemency with respect to the villain has always remained a mystery, sent to beg Ormonde’s forgiveness for Blood. The Duke replied to the messenger: ‘If the King can forgive him for stealing his crown, I may easily forgive him for attempting my life.’

In order to be near his service at Court, the Duke had taken a house near Windsor, and, being in great favour with the Queen and the Duchess of York, was often summoned to play at basset with them. One Sunday, the card-table being brought out, the Queen invited him to play.

‘I hope your Majesty will excuse me,’ he said.

‘You surely can have no scruples,’ observed the Queen, not best pleased; ‘nobody else has any.’

‘I beg your Majesty’s pardon,’ was the reply; ‘Christian, and even Jewish, laws, set apart one day in seven for the service of God, and cessation from business.’

Undoubtedly at this Court card-playing was a business, and one in no way profitable to the impoverished state of the Duke’s fortune. We do not know if it were at Windsor or in London, but, after having been slighted for so long by the King, Ormonde frequently asked leave to retire from Court. He one day received the astounding intelligence that his Majesty would sup with his Grace. The cause of this sudden step was to announce the Royal intention of reinstating the Duke of Ormonde in the viceregal power in Ireland, Charles being thereto instigated, it was said, by the Duke of York, who feared the post might be offered to the Duke of Monmouth. We are inclined to believe that it was on this occasion that the Duchess prepared so sumptuous a repast as to call forth a lengthened description in Carte’s life of her husband: ‘If she had a fault, ‘twas the height of her spirit, which put her upon doing everything in a magnificent manner, without regard for expense.’ Bent on giving his Majesty a noble entertainment,the Duchess consulted her steward, who expostulated, as in duty bound, and counselled greater economy; but her Grace drew herself up, and observed with much dignity: ‘You must allow me to be a better judge of what is fitting for my own sphere;’ and so the banquet cost over £2000!—if we may trust the biographer so often quoted. The Duke, who loved her dearly, never interfered with her financial arrangements, though he must often have had reason to regret them.

He was once betrayed into a melancholy jest on this subject. The Duchess had built Dunmore Castle for her jointure-house, at a large cost, and one day, as the Duke was walking with a friend on the leads of Kilkenny Castle, which commanded a fine view of the surrounding country, the new castle and grounds forming a conspicuous object in the landscape,—‘Your Grace,’ observed his companion, smiling, ‘has done a great deal here; but yonder you havedone more.’

‘Alas!’ replied the Duke, ‘my wife has done so much, that she has undone me.’

The history of his return to power was but a repetition of all that had gone before. Fresh plots against his authority and his life, fresh outbreaks of religious strife between Catholics and Protestants, continued undermining of his interests in England; but no public trouble could be compared with the crushing sorrow occasioned by the death of his eldest son, Lord Ossory, in the prime of life, in the zenith of his reputation. We have no space to enlarge on the merits of this noble son of a noble father; he has been immortalised in the pages of that father’s faithful friend, Lord Clarendon. Suffice it to say, that all England and Ireland sympathised with the afflicted parents. The Duchess appears never to have entirely rallied, for though her death did not occur till some years later, her health began to fail, and she went over to Bath for the benefit of the waters. In 1684, offever and weakness, this most remarkable woman, the ‘best helpmate man ever was blessed with,’ died, at the age of sixty-nine, having married when only fourteen.

Her guardian, Lord Holland, had so far neglected her education, that she had never even learned to write, but she taught herself by copying print, which was the reason her letters were never joined together. In appearance she was tall and well made, but not a beauty; an excellent capacity for business, good sense and judgment, and, as we have said before, an undaunted spirit, which fitted her for all the vicissitudes of her eventful life. Irreproachable in her own conduct, she avoided the society of the King’s favourites, and ‘would never wait on the Duchess of Cleveland,’ who was her enemy in consequence. The Duchess of Portsmouth would take no denial, and when the Ormondes lived near Windsor would always be calling, and once she sent word she was coming to dine. The Duchess, on receiving this semi-royal intimation, despatched her granddaughters, who were staying with her, to London, and when ‘La Quérouaille’ arrived she found no one to sit with her at table, with the exception of the Duke and Duchess, and their domestic chaplain; whereas, when the Duke of York married Lady Anne Hyde, and few were found to pay her court, the Duchess of Ormonde waited on the bride, and, kneeling, kissed her hand, as to a Princess of the blood. Queen Catherine esteemed the Duchess of Ormonde highly, none the less, doubtless, for the slights she put upon ‘The Castlemaine,’ and made her a present of her own and the King’s portraits, set in large diamonds, which their Majesties had exchanged at the Royal marriage. This jewel was given by the Duke to his grandson’s wife, Lady Mary Somerset, who was compelled to sell it for subsistence at the Revolution, when her husband’s estates passed away from him.

The Duke was in England when his wife died, and was inconsolable;‘indeed, when alone at night, he was almost distracted.’ The only solace he found was in constant work, and he hurried over to Dublin to resume his duties; in the meantime, CharlesII., who had lately made him an English Duke, was besieged, as before, with applications once more to deprive his faithful servant of the Lord-Lieutenancy. For a while he stood firm, saying he had one of his kingdoms in good hands, and was resolved to keep it so; and another time, being asked by my Lord Arlington if the report were true that the Duke was to be recalled, his Majesty replied with much anger, ‘It is a damned lie!’ But no one could trust in the steadfastness of the ‘Merry Monarch.’ Ormonde’s enemy, Colonel Talbot, made a report on Irish affairs, which Charles took hold of as a plea for the Duke’s recall. Sir Robert Southwell wrote to Dublin to give him warning of the King’s decision.

‘They begin early,’ was the reply, ‘to find fault with my conduct, before I am warm in my post here, or my head recovered from the agitation of the sea.’

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