LIBRARY.

FIRST VISCOUNT WEYMOUTH.Oval. Brown coat. Wig.

FIRST VISCOUNT WEYMOUTH.

Oval. Brown coat. Wig.

BISHOP KEN.By Sir Peter Lely.BORN 1637, DIED 1711.Oval. In Canonicals. Black skull-cap.

BISHOP KEN.

By Sir Peter Lely.

BORN 1637, DIED 1711.

Oval. In Canonicals. Black skull-cap.

HE was the youngest son of Thomas Ken, of Furnival’s Inn. Born at Berkhampstead, county Herts. The Kens were a family of great antiquity in Somersetshire. The future Bishop was educated at Winchester and New College, Oxford, and entered the University, about the year 1656, at the same time as Mr. Thynne (afterwards Lord Weymouth), who became the faithful friend of his whole (subsequent) life.

Oxford was at that time in a state of great disorder;—the Book of Common Prayer forbidden; ‘the Proctor a boisterous fellow at cudgelling, and foot-ball playing; the Vice-Chancellor in Spanish leather boots, huge ribbons at the knee, and his hat mostly cocked.’

But such examples were lost on Ken. He pursued his studies with sobriety, and diligence, and took his Degree. In 1666 he became a Fellow of Winchester College, and was made chaplain to Morley, Bishop of the diocese, who gave him a living in the Isle of Wight.

Here he was most zealous in his duties, allowing himself but little sleep, and (in the words of a near relation and friend) ‘so lively and cheerful was his temper that he would be very facetious to his friends of an evening, though he could scarce keep his eyes open, and he used to sing his morning hymn to his lute before he dressed.’ In 1669 he was appointed Prebendary of Winchester, and travelled to Italy with his nephew, who was also the nephew and namesake of the celebrated Izaak Walton; and in 1682 we hear of him on board the Tangiers fleet, with Lord Dartmouth.

The Princess of Orange (afterwards Queen Mary of England), whose chaplain he became, appreciated Ken’s straightforward and uncompromising character. But the Prince was very wroth with him on one occasion, when the Englishman stood forward as champion of a young lady, at the Dutch Court, who had been wronged.

Ken insisted that her seducer should marry her, and he carried his point, but William (with whom he had not been on friendly terms, before this event) resented the interference, and threatened to deprive his wife’s chaplain of his post.

The Princess was in despair when she found her favourite on the eve of departure, and endeavoured to compromise matters; but Ken would brook no half measures, and told his royal mistress roundly, that he would not remain in Holland unless requested to do so by the Prince, and that in person.

The matter was soon settled according to Ken’s own stipulations; but shortly afterwards he was back in England, and appointed to a royal chaplaincy by CharlesII.

It seemed his fate, however, to fall out with his royal patrons, for the Court repairing to Winchester for the summer, Ken’s prebendal house was pitched on as a suitable residence for Madam Eleanor Gwynne; but the merry monarch had reckoned without his host, in every sense of the word, and no power on earth could persuade the Churchman to admit the siren.

It speaks well for Charles that he bore Ken no ill-will for his resistance, as he preferred him not long after to the See of Bath and Wells. But before the new Bishop entered on his Episcopal duties, the King fell sick, and Burnet bears testimony to the zeal with which Ken attended Charles’s deathbed, striving ‘to awaken his conscience, and speaking with great elevation, as of a man inspired.’

On the King’s death, the Bishop devoted himself to his Episcopal duties; he published several works, chiefly on divinity, and, disgusted with the ignorance of the people in his diocese, he founded several schools, trying, as he said, ‘to lay a foundation to make the next generation better.’

He was invariably courteous in his demeanour to all men, so much so, as to give some members of the Roman Catholic faith, a hope of his conversion; but he was a staunch Protestant, and withstood and denounced Popery, regardless of Court favour. Indeed, he spoke boldly from his own pulpit, but, more daring still, he admonished the Court on the subject, calling on them to hold fast by the reformed religion, and rebuking them for unmanly policy. JamesII.bore with Ken for a time, and was said to have done all in his power to gain over one, who was indeed a staunch champion of the creed, or opinion he professed; but Bath and Wells would listen to no overtures, and took his way to the Tower with the six other prelates. In spite of all these religious differences, Ken was loyal to the house of Stuart, and when William and the Revolution appeared, he refused totake the oath of allegiance, and was in consequence deprived of his bishopric—William perhaps not unwilling to pay off old scores.

Ken was much beloved in his diocese, and when he took his departure he was followed by the prayers and good wishes of all men; and now that the horizon had clouded over for him, there rose up a noble and faithful friend, ‘even like unto a brother, who was born for adversity.’

Lord Weymouth, who had been his fellow-collegian at Oxford, gladly availed himself of the plea that Longleat was in the diocese, and cordially bade the outcast welcome. In that beautiful home did the ex-Bishop reside for twenty years, treated with the greatest kindness and consideration, his own apartments assigned him (near the old library), allowed to come and go at his own free will, to enjoy perfect leisure, to choose and receive his friends, and pursue his literary labours in peace. Lord Weymouth’s only son, who died before his father, was of a studious and scholarly turn of mind, and he and Ken had friends in common, among others the celebrated Elizabeth Rowe, daughter of a Nonconformist minister at Frome of the name of Singer. She showed great talent at an early age, and Mr. Thynne took much pleasure in giving her lessons in Latin and French, when she came over to Longleat.

Dr. Harbin, Lord Weymouth’s chaplain, and the Rev. Izaak Walton of Poulshot, Ken’s nephew, were also members of this pleasant society. Had it not been for the failure of his health, the learned divine might have spent the evening of his days in peace and rest.

Perhaps we may say he did so, in spite of his sufferings, for he accepted every trial in a truly Christian spirit, and in a collection of hymns he called ‘Anodynes’ (seeing that their composition afforded him solace when unable to prosecute works which required more research and continuity of work),there is a most pathetic poem on pain, in which he blesses the pangs that bring him nearer his God. He says—

‘One day of pain improves me moreThan years of ease could do before.By pain God me instructs;By pain to endless bliss conducts.’

‘One day of pain improves me more

Than years of ease could do before.

By pain God me instructs;

By pain to endless bliss conducts.’

And many such passages indicating his entire submission to the Divine will. His descriptions also of his sleepless nights show us, we were indebted to that very sleeplessness for his hymns for morning, evening, and midnight.

There is a tradition that he composed one of these sacred songs at least while reposing on the beautiful hill which overlooks the house, and is familiarly and fondly called ‘Heaven’s Gate.’ In truth, it is a spot to inspire a poet as well as a painter, more especially when radiant with autumnal tints.

Ken had had enough to do with political troubles, and wisely abstained from interference in public affairs, from the moment of his retirement. He refused to acknowledge his first successor to the see, Dr. Kidder; but on that prelate’s death in 1703, he requested Dr. Hooper to accept his congratulations, signing himself ‘Late Bishop of Bath and Wells.’

The Queen had a great admiration for Ken’s intellectual and moral reputation, and made him an allowance. But his bodily infirmities increased; he went to the hot wells at Bristol, and afterwards to pay a visit to Mrs. Thynne, near Sherborne, where he had a stroke; and wishing to go to Bath, he set forward, but halted at Longleat, where he died. Surely no one could be better prepared to meet death, which he called his final friend. The day before he breathed his last, he told his friends to look in his portmanteau and they would find his shroud, which he always carried with him, saying it might as soon be wanted, as any other of his habiliments.

He was buried, by his own desire, in the nearest parish within his diocese; and there, in Frome churchyard, underthe east window of the chancel of St. John’s, a quaint tomb covers the mortal remains of Thomas Ken. Many are the pilgrims who still visit that stone coffin, surmounted by a mitre and pastoral staff.

Some years after his death, four volumes of miscellaneous works were published—theological, devotional, secular, in prose and verse. In consequence of the rumours which had been circulated of a leaning towards Roman Catholicism, an extract from his will was made public:—‘I die in the Holy Catholic and Apostolic faith; more particularly, I die in the communion of the Church of England, as it stands distinguished from all Papal and Puritanical denominations, as it adheres to the doctrines of the Cross.’

Professor Keble, in speaking of his forerunner in sacred lyrical composition, pays a graceful tribute to Thomas Ken when he says:—‘We shall scarcely find in all ecclesiastical history a greener spot than the latter years of this courageous and affectionate pastor, persecuted alternately by both parties, and driven from his station in his declining age, yet singing on with unabated cheerfulness to the last.’

From all we hear and read indeed of Ken, it would seem as if he had reached nearer his own ideal than is the lot of most men. In his description of what a poet should be, he says—

‘Prophets and poets were of oldMade in the same celestial mould;True poets are a saint-like race,And with the gift receive the grace,Of their own songs the virtue feel, etc.A poet should have heat and light,Of all things a capacious sight,Serenity with rapture joined,Aims noble, eloquence refined,Strong, modest, sweetness to endear,Expressions lively, lofty, clear.Such graces can nowhere be foundExcept on consecrated ground,Where poets fix on God their thought,By sacred inspiration taught,Where each poetic votary singsIn heavenly tones of heavenly things.’

‘Prophets and poets were of oldMade in the same celestial mould;True poets are a saint-like race,And with the gift receive the grace,Of their own songs the virtue feel, etc.

‘Prophets and poets were of old

Made in the same celestial mould;

True poets are a saint-like race,

And with the gift receive the grace,

Of their own songs the virtue feel, etc.

A poet should have heat and light,Of all things a capacious sight,Serenity with rapture joined,Aims noble, eloquence refined,Strong, modest, sweetness to endear,Expressions lively, lofty, clear.

A poet should have heat and light,

Of all things a capacious sight,

Serenity with rapture joined,

Aims noble, eloquence refined,

Strong, modest, sweetness to endear,

Expressions lively, lofty, clear.

Such graces can nowhere be foundExcept on consecrated ground,Where poets fix on God their thought,By sacred inspiration taught,Where each poetic votary singsIn heavenly tones of heavenly things.’

Such graces can nowhere be found

Except on consecrated ground,

Where poets fix on God their thought,

By sacred inspiration taught,

Where each poetic votary sings

In heavenly tones of heavenly things.’

ANTHONY ASHLEY COOPER, FIRST EARL OFSHAFTESBURY.By Sir Peter Lely.BORN 1621, DIED 1683.In coloured Chancellor’s robes.

ANTHONY ASHLEY COOPER, FIRST EARL OF

SHAFTESBURY.

By Sir Peter Lely.

BORN 1621, DIED 1683.

In coloured Chancellor’s robes.

SON of Sir John Cooper of Rockbourne, county Hants, by Anne, daughter and sole heir of Sir Anthony Ashley, Bart., of Wimborne St. Giles, county Dorset, where the future Chancellor was born.

In his autobiography, he describes his mother of ‘low stature,’ as was also the aforesaid Sir Anthony, ‘a large mind but his person of the lowest,’ while his own father was ‘lovely and graceful in mind and person, neither too high nor too low,’ therefore the pigmy body of which Dryden speaks must have been inherited from the maternal side.

Sir Anthony was delighted with his grandson, and although at the time of the infant’s birth, the septuagenarian was on the point of espousing a young wife, his affection was in no wise diminished for his daughter, or her boy.

Lady Cooper and her father died within six months of each other. Sir John married again, a daughter of Sir CharlesMorrison, of Cassiobury, county Herts, by whom he had several children. He died in 1631, leaving the little Anthony bereft of both parents, with large but much encumbered estates, and law-suits pending.

Many of his own relations being most inimical to his interests, Anthony went with his brother and sister to reside with Sir Daniel Norton, one of his trustees, who—we once more quote the autobiography—‘took me to London, thinking my presence might work some compassion, on those who ought to have been my friends.’

He refers to the suit in which they were now engaged. The boy must have had a winning way with him (as the old saying goes), for when only thirteen, he went of his own accord to Noy, the Solicitor-General, and entreated his assistance as the friend of his grandfather. Noy was deeply touched, took up the case warmly, and gained one suit in the Court of wards, stoutly refusing to take any fee whatever.

After Sir Daniel Norton’s death, Anthony went to live with an uncle, Mr. Tooker, near Salisbury, though it was supposed Lady Norton would gladly have kept him under her roof, with a view to a match with one of her daughters. He says himself,—‘Had it not been for the state of my litigious fortune, the young lady’s sweet disposition had made me look no farther for a wife.’

In 1637 he went to Exeter College, Oxford, where he ‘made such rapid strides in learning as to be accounted the most prodigious youth in the whole University.’ By his own showing, he was popular with his companions and well satisfied with himself, indeed a general spirit of self-complacency pervades these pages. In little more than a year he went to Lincoln’s Inn, where he appears to have found the theatres, fencing galleries, and the like, more to his taste than the study of the law.

An astrologer who was in old Sir Anthony’s house at thetime of the grandson’s birth, cast the horoscope, and to the fulfilment of these predictions, may probably be attributed young Anthony’s own predilection for the study of astrology in later days. The horoscope in question foreboded feuds and trouble at an early age, and some years afterwards the same magician, foreseeing through the medium of the planets that a certain Miss Roberts (a neighbour without any apparent prospects of wealth) would become a great heiress, he endeavoured to persuade his pupil to marry her. The lady did eventually come into a considerable fortune; but Mr. Tooker, who was not over-credulous, had other views at the time for his nephew; and accordingly, at eighteen, Ashley Cooper became the husband of Margaret, the daughter of my Lord Keeper Coventry, ‘a woman of excellent beauty and incomparable gifts.’

The young couple resided with the bride’s father in London, Anthony paying flying visits to Dorsetshire. He was subject to fits, but even this infirmity redounded to his advantage according to his own version; how that being in Gloucestershire on one occasion, and taken suddenly ill, ‘the women admired his courage and patience under suffering,’ and he contrived to ingratiate himself with the electors of Tewkesbury to some purpose.

He gives us an amusing and characteristic description of how he won the favour of the electors and bailiffs of this town by his conduct at a public dinner, where he and a certain Sir Henry Spiller were guests, and sat opposite each other. The knight, a crafty, perverse, rich man, a Privy Councillor, had rendered himself very obnoxious in the hunting-field, and at the banquet aforementioned, began the dinner with all the affronts and dislikes he could possibly put on the bailiffs and their entertainment, which enraged and disgusted them, and this rough raillery he continued. ‘At length I thought it my duty to defend the cause of those whose bread I was eating,which I did with so good success, sparing not the bitterest retorts, that I had a complete victory. This gained the townsmen’s hearts, and their wives’ to boot. I was made free of the town, and at the next Parliament (though absent at the time), was chosen burgess by an unanimous vote, and that without a penny charge.’

Sir Anthony had strange humours: he loved a frolic dearly. He had a confidential servant who resembled him so much that, when dressed in his master’s left-offs, the lackey was often mistaken for his better. This worthy was a clever man-milliner, and had many small accomplishments which made him popular in country houses, and his master confesses that he often listened to the valet’s gossip, and made use of it, in the exercise of palmistry and fortune-telling, which produced great jollity, and ‘of which I did not make so bad a use as many would have done.’ With this account he finishes the record of his youth. A time of business followed, ‘and the rest of my life is not without great mixture of public concerns, and intermingled with the history of the times.’

Sir Anthony sat for Tewkesbury in 1639, but that Parliament was hastily dissolved. He raised a regiment of horse for the king’s service, and occupied places of trust in his own county; but believing himself unjustly treated and slighted by the Court, he listened to the overtures of the Parliament, and returned to Dorsetshire as colonel of a regiment in their army.

In 1649 he lost the wife he dearly loved, to whose memory he pays a most touching tribute in his diary. But she left no living child, and before the expiration of the year the widower had espoused Lady Frances Cecil, daughter of the Earl of Exeter, a royalist.

The friendship of the Protector and Sir Anthony was of a most fitful and spasmodic nature,—now fast allies, now at daggers drawn. Some writers affirm that, on the death of his second wife, he asked the hand of one of Cromwell’s daughters;others, that he advised the Protector to assume the Crown, who offered it to him in turn!

He held many appointments under the reigning Government, and continued to sit in Parliament; but having, with many other Members, withstood the encroachments of the great man, Oliver endeavoured to prevent his return, and not being able to do so, forbade him to enter the House of Commons. (See the history of the times.) The Members, with Ashley Cooper at their head, insisted on readmittance. Again ousted, again readmitted; nothing but quarrels and reconciliations. The fact was, that Sir Anthony was too great a card to lose hold of, entirely. He had still a commission in the Parliamentary army, and a seat at the Privy Council, circumstances that in no wise prevented him carrying on a correspondence with the King ‘over the water.’ Indeed, he was accused of levying men for the Royal service; arrested, acquitted, sat again in Parliament under Richard Cromwell, joined the Presbyterian party to bring back Charles, and when the Parliament declared for the King, Sir Anthony was one of the twelve Members sent over to Breda, to invite his return. When in Holland Ashley Cooper had a fall from his carriage, and a narrow escape of being killed. Clarendon (there was no love lost between them) says it was hoped that by his alliance (as his third wife) with a daughter of Lord Spencer of Wormleighton, a niece of the Earl of Southampton, ‘his slippery humour would be restrained by his uncle.’

He now took a leading part in politics, was appointed one of the Judges of the Regicides, created Baron Ashley at the coronation, and afterwards became Chancellor of the Exchequer, Under-Treasurer, and further high offices, and in 1672 Lord Cooper of Pawlett, county Somerset, and Earl of Shaftesbury; and so quickly did honours rain on him, that the same year saw him Lord High Chancellor of England. He appears to have given great umbrage to many of the lawofficers, by his haughty bearing. We are told ‘he was the gloriousest man alive; he said he would teach the bar that a man of sense was above all their forms; and that he was impatient to show them he was a superior judge to all who had ever sat before on the marble chair.’

He maddened the gentlemen of the long robe by his vagaries, and innovations, and defiance of precedents. He wore an ash-coloured gown instead of the regulation black, assigning as his reason, that black was distinctive of the barrister-at-law, and he had never been called to the bar.

He went to keep Hilary term ‘on a horse richly caparisoned, his grooms walking beside him,’ all his officers ordered to ride on horseback, ‘as in the olden time.’

No doubt the good Dorsetshire country gentleman, the lover of sport and of horse-flesh, who had been accused of regaling his four-footed favourites on wine and cheese-cakes, had a mischievous pleasure in seeing the uneasy and scared looks of his worshipful brethren, some of whom perhaps had never sat on a saddle till that day.

At all events, poor Judge Twisden was laid in the dust, and he swore roundly no Lord Chancellor should ever reduce him to such a plight again. Shaftesbury lived at this time in great pomp at Exeter House, in the Strand, and was in high favour with his royal master, who visited him at Wimborne St. Giles during the Plague, when the Court was at Salisbury.

At Oxford, when Parliament sat, he made acquaintance with the celebrated John Locke, who afterwards became an inmate of his patron’s house, his tried friend, and medical adviser.

The situations of public employment which Shaftesbury obtained for this eminent man were, unfortunately, in the end, the source of difficulty, and distress rather than advantage. The history of the Cabal, of which he was the mainspring, andof which he formed the fourth letter (Clifford, Arlington, Buckingham, Ashley, Lauderdale), would suffice for his biography, during the five years of its life. But it must never be forgotten that to Shaftesbury England owes the passing of the Habeas Corpus Bill, as likewise one for making judges independent of the Crown.

The reader must seek elsewhere, and elect for himself, whether Shaftesbury was or was not guilty of all the plots and conspiracies against King and country of which he has been accused. To the Duke of York he made himself most obnoxious. He was instrumental in establishing the Test Act, which made Roman Catholics ineligible for public offices; he was, moreover, the champion of the Exclusion Bill, and opposed James’s marriage with Mary of Modena; and there is little doubt that the Duke did all to undermine Shaftesbury’s favour with the King.

There was always an element of humour mixed up with his doings, even when fortune frowned on him. Finding that the King meant to unseat him from the Woolsack, and that his successor was already named, he sought the royal presence; the King was about to proceed to chapel. The fallen favourite told Charles he knew what his intentions were, but he trusted he was not to be dismissed with contempt. ‘Cod’s fish, my lord,’ replied the easy-going monarch, ‘I will not do it with any circumstances that may look like a slight,’ upon which the ex-Minister asked permission to carry the Great Seals of Office for the last time before the King into chapel, and then to his own house till the evening.

Granted permission, Shaftesbury, with a smiling countenance, entered the sacred building, and spoiled the devotions of all his enemies, during that service at least. Lord Keeper Finch, who was to succeed him, was at his wit’s end, believing Shaftesbury reinstated, and all (and there were many) who wished his downfall were in despair.

The whole account is most amusing and characteristic, including the manner in which the Seals were actually resigned, but we have not space to say more. Shaftesbury was indeed now ‘out of suits with fortune.’ In 1677 he, with other noblemen, was committed to the Tower for contempt of the authority of Parliament, and although other prisoners were soon liberated, he was kept in confinement thirteen months. On regaining his freedom he was made Lord President of the Council, but opposing the Duke of York’s succession, was dismissed from that post in a few months. In 1681 he was again apprehended, on false testimony, and once more sent to the Tower on charge of treason, and that without a trial.

His papers were searched, but nothing could be found against him except one document, ‘neither writ nor signed by his hand.’ The jurors brought in the bill ‘Ignoramus,’ which pleased the Protestant portion of the community, who believed the Earl suffered in the cause of religion.

Bonfires were kindled in his honour; one of the witnesses against him narrowly escaped from the fury of the mob; a medal was struck in his honour to commemorate his enlargement. Hence the poem of that name from the pen of Dryden, suggested by the King. On regaining his liberty, Shaftesbury went to reside at his house in Aldersgate Street, when, finding his enemies were still working against him, he took the friendly advice of Lord Mordaunt, and after lyingperduin another part of London, for a night or two, he set off for Harwichen routefor Holland with a young relative, both disguised as Presbyterian ministers, with long black perukes. Adverse winds detained them at a small inn, when one day the landlady entered the elder gentleman’s room, and carefully shutting the door, told him that the chambermaid had just been into his companion’s apartment, and instead of a swarthy sour-faced dominie, had found a beautiful fair-haired youth. ‘Be assured, sir,’ said the good woman, ‘that I will neither askquestions, nor tell tales, but I cannot answer for a young girl’s discretion.’

The man who had been so hunted of late, was touched, thanked the good soul, and bade his handsome young friend make love to the maid, till the wind changed.

The fugitives, however, had an extra run for it, as it was, for the hounds were on their track. Fortunately the capture of one of Shaftesbury’s servants, dressed like his master, gave them time to embark.

They arrived at Amsterdam after a stormy passage, where Shaftesbury hired a large house, with the intention of remaining some time, and all the more that he found himself treated with great respect, by all the principal inhabitants. But misfortune pursued him. He was seized with gout in the stomach, and expired on the 1st of January 1683. His body was conveyed to England, and landed at Poole, whither the gentlemen of his native county flocked, uninvited, to pay a tribute to his memory, by attending the remains to Wimborne St. Giles.

We leave the sentence to be pronounced on the first Earl of Shaftesbury to wiser heads than ours, but one remark we feel authorised to make,—that we are not called on to believe him as black as Dryden has painted him, since we cannot but question the justice of the pen that described Charles the Second as the God-like David, in the far-famed poem of ‘Absalom (the Duke of Monmouth) and Achitophel’ (Shaftesbury). He loads the latter with invective:—

‘A man to all succeeding nations curst,For close designs and crooked councils fit,Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit.Restless, unfixed in principles and place,In power unpleased, impatient of disgrace,A fiery soul, which working out its way,Fretted the pigmy body to decay.Great wits are sure to madness close allied;Oh, had he been content to serve the CrownWith virtues only proper to the gown,’ etc. etc.

‘A man to all succeeding nations curst,

For close designs and crooked councils fit,

Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit.

Restless, unfixed in principles and place,

In power unpleased, impatient of disgrace,

A fiery soul, which working out its way,

Fretted the pigmy body to decay.

Great wits are sure to madness close allied;

Oh, had he been content to serve the Crown

With virtues only proper to the gown,’ etc. etc.

There spoke the Poet-Laureate, and woe indeed to the man who had such a poet as Dryden for his censor! Yet for all this abuse which he had written to order, Dryden could not help bearing testimony as follows:—

‘Yet fame deserved, no memory can grudge,The Statesman we abhor, but praise the Judge;In Israel’s court ne’er sate an AbithinWith more discerning eyes or hands more clean,Unbribed, unsought, the wretched to redress,Swift of despatch, and easy of access.’

‘Yet fame deserved, no memory can grudge,

The Statesman we abhor, but praise the Judge;

In Israel’s court ne’er sate an Abithin

With more discerning eyes or hands more clean,

Unbribed, unsought, the wretched to redress,

Swift of despatch, and easy of access.’

Lord Shaftesbury was kind and charitable to the poor in his neighbourhood, and was very hospitable. In 1669, Cosimo de’ Medici, being in England, went to St. Giles’s, and was so much pleased with his reception, that he kept up a correspondence with his English friend, and sent him annually a present of Tuscan wine. It has been adduced by some, in evidence of his immorality, that on one occasion, while still in favour with Charles, the King said to him, ‘I believe, Shaftesbury, you are the greatest profligate in England.’ The Earl bowed low, and replied, ‘For a subject, sire, I believe I am.’ It would be hard to condemn a man on the testimony of a repartee.

No. 4.

EDWARD SEYMOUR, FIRST DUKE OF SOMERSET,THE PROTECTOR.By Holbein.EXECUTED IN 1552.Black gown, with fur. Black cap, and jewel. Collar of Garter,and George.

EDWARD SEYMOUR, FIRST DUKE OF SOMERSET,

THE PROTECTOR.

By Holbein.

EXECUTED IN 1552.

Black gown, with fur. Black cap, and jewel. Collar of Garter,

and George.

THE second but eldest surviving son of Sir John Seymour, of Wulfhall, county Wilts, by Margaret, daughter of Sir John Wentworth, of Nettlested, in Suffolk. Sir John (a distinguished soldier) accompanied Henry VIII. to France, and when Charles, Emperor of Germany, came over to England, he was selected to attend on that monarch.

He was in high favour with the King, who appointed him to many places even before the royal marriage with Jane Seymour, ‘the fairest and most discreet of his wives.’ The ceremony took place at her paternal home of Wulfhall in 1536. The old barn, the scene of great festivities, may still be seen, with hooks dangling from the rafters where the hangings were attached; Sir John Seymour died the same year.

Many interesting papers relating to this and other subsequent royal visits, and the domestic economy of Wulfhall, are treasured among the archives of Longleat, Sir John Thynne having been the Protector’s confidential agent and secretary, and having conducted the whole of his private, and personal business when the Duke was occupied in public matters.

But we are anticipating, and must return to the early years of Edward Seymour. He was educated both at Oxfordand Cambridge; and afterwards joining his father at Court, entered the army, and also distinguished himself greatly in France, and was knighted for his services in 1525. On his return to England he was appointed Esquire to the King, and was one of the challengers in the tilt-yard of Greenwich, when Henry kept his Christmas there. On the King’s marriage with his sister Jane, Edward Seymour was created Viscount Beauchamp, with other grants and honours, and in 1537, Earl of Hertford. He was sent to France on a mission of importance, and, returning, was made Knight Companion of the Garter at Hampton Court.

From this time Seymour’s life became most eventful, he went twice to Scotland, high in command, likewise again to France, where he did good service, and was instrumental in concluding peace with that country. Honours and distinctions too numerous to relate were heaped on the King’s brother-in-law, even after the death of poor Queen Jane. Nor must we omit to mention that Henry, shortly before his marriage with Anne of Cleves, revisited Wulfhall, where he was sumptuously entertained (with an enormous retinue) for three days, which pleased him so much, that he returned thither a third time in 1543.

The papers and bills at Longleat testify to the grandeur of these receptions, showing at the same time how all the family took up their quarters in the long barn (once used for the ill-fated Jane’s wedding dance), leaving the rest of the house to the royal party. Could they have given the King credit for any over-sensibility on the occasion?

Lord Hertford was a gallant soldier; but in some of his expeditions against the Scots he has been reproached for his ‘heavy hand.’

When HenryVIII.felt his end approaching, he took his brother-in-law into his confidence, and spent a long time in conferring with him, and Sir William Paget, on thestate of the country, his hopes and fears for young Prince Edward, etc. They were both with him at his death, and there were rumours to Hertford’s disadvantage, respecting the royal will. He was one of the many executors, but he agitated so successfully, that, as the King’s uncle, he was granted precedency, and appointed his guardian with many conditions, from which he soon emancipated himself. He hurried his royal ward to London, where the nephew was proclaimed King, and the uncle Protector of the realm.

The latter already bore the title of Earl and Viscount, and the King further bestowed on him that of Baron, and next day the ducal coronet was awarded him, with the title of Somerset, the royal patent setting forth ‘that the name of that family, from which our most beloved mother, Jane, late Queen of England, drew her beginning, might not be clouded by any higher title, or colour of dignity.’ On the Duke of Norfolk being attainted, the Duke of Somerset was made Earl Marshal for life. His power seemed almost absolute, and Edward, who delighted to do him honour, both publicly and privately, appointed him to sit on the right hand of the throne. Nor was the Duke any way loath to enjoy such dignities; the first years of the reign of Edward the King contain the biography of Edward the Protector, and are recorded elsewhere. But he climbed too fast; he was King in all but name. He surrounded himself with regal pomp, and his enemies accused him of aspiring to the throne in good earnest, in proof of which it was adduced that he used the royal pronoun ‘we,’ and signed himself, ‘Protector, by the grace of God.’ True it is that he wrote in former times to his well-beloved Mr. Thynne, ‘I bid you heartily farewell,’ while later documents, amid Longleat’s varied stores, are couched in grander terms, such as ‘we greet you well,’ ‘it is our intention,’ and the like.

For all the vicissitudes of his eventful life, for his deeds of military glory, his ambition that ‘o’erselled itself,’ the plots inwhich he was accused of taking part, and the factions which rose up against him, at the head of which were the Earl of Warwick, and his own ungrateful brother, Thomas Lord Seymour of Sudeley, see the Chronicles of the Kings of England.

A majority of the Privy Council, with his deadly foe, Warwick, as leader, was now united against him, and though hitherto a favourite with the people, they were at last (for the most part) persuaded that ‘the royal person was not safe in the Duke’s hands, whose doings were treacherous, and his proceedings devilish.’ Somerset submitted; he resigned the authority his enemies were bent on wresting from him, and was committed to the Tower.

The circumstances attending his downfall were most humiliating. Deprived of all his great offices, save that of Privy Councillor, he was compelled to own the justice of his sentence, and that on his bended knees. His first imprisonment did not last long, and his loving nephew contrived to restore several forfeited estates, and to make up to the ex-Protector, at least for pecuniary losses, as far as in him lay,—for the Earl of Warwick, though there was no love lost between them, was yet in no wise averse to the union of his eldest son, Lord Lisle, with Lady Mary Seymour, Somerset’s daughter.

The Duke was occasionally called upon to take part in public affairs, and on the reassembling of Parliament, the Commons, with whom he was still popular, agitated for his re-election to the Protectorate, but Warwick was bent on his destruction.

He went so far as to accuse Somerset of a design to murder him, on which, and many other counts, the Duke was once more sent to the Tower, together with many other noblemen, and the next day was followed thither by his Duchess, Sir John Thynne, and several more.

Wearied, exposed to constant examinations, and arraignedat Westminster Hall, he demanded a trial of his peers, was acquitted of high treason, but found guilty of felony, and re-conducted to the Tower.

On his road thither there was a demonstration in his favour, for he still stood high with the people; he remained two months in prison, and was then brought out, and, in spite of the poor young King, condemned to die on the scaffold.

On the 22d of January 1552 every householder in London was forbidden to stir abroad, (a rescue being feared,) nevertheless Tower Hill was crowded long before the Duke appeared, surrounded by guards and officials.

On reaching the platform, he kneeled on both knees, and fervently commended his soul to God, then, rising, ‘with great alacrity, and cheerfulness,’ he addressed the people in quiet, measured terms. He declared his innocence, his loyalty to the King, his love of his country, and of the reformed religion, to which he admonished his hearers to be faithful. Here he was interrupted by a strange kind of tumult, and Sir Anthony Browne appearing on horseback in the crowd, the people cried aloud, ‘A pardon! a pardon! God save the King!’ But he told them there was no hope, and all the time his arch-enemy, Lord Warwick (or rather Northumberland, as he then was), stood untouched, shaking his cap, and making signs to the people to be quiet.

The Duke of Somerset resumed his discourse, exhorting his hearers to be loyal to the King, and submissive to the laws, concluding with, ‘I wish you all to bear witness that I die in the faith of Jesus Christ, desiring you to help me with your prayers.’

We have not space to make more extracts from a dying speech which for manliness, forbearance, and piety could scarcely be surpassed. Unbuckling his sword, he presented it to the Lieutenant of the Tower, gave the executioner money and rings, bade all near him graciously farewell, then, kneelingdown, arranged his collar, and covered his face, which showed ‘no signs of trouble,’ with his handkerchief.

He was required to rise up, once more, to remove his doublet, and again laying his head on the block, and calling thrice, ‘Lord Jesu save me!’ received the death-stroke.

The head and body were both interred in the north side of St. Peter’s Church in the Tower.

There is a story told of a fair enthusiast, who dipped her handkerchief in the ‘martyr’s’ blood, and afterwards flourished it in the face of the Duke of Northumberland, when he, two years later, was led captive through the City, for his opposition to Queen Mary. Varying as have been the verdicts on the character of the Protector Somerset, surely no one can deny him the attributes of courage, energy, and piety. He had enthusiastic friends, and bitter enemies, among the last his own brother. Edward, first Duke of Somerset, was remarkably handsome, majestic, and naturally of a melancholy aspect, ‘every inch a gentleman.’ His extravagance, both in public and private matters, was undeniable, and he affected great splendour in dress, not only on State occasions. During his imprisonment he employed himself in works of a religious character. He was twice married—first to Catherine, daughter and co-heir of Sir William Fillol of Woodlands, county Dorset. Respecting this lady there exists a mystery: there were rumours of misconduct, and certain it is her son was disinherited.

There seems little doubt that the Duke’s second wife (the daughter of Sir Edward Stanhope of Rampton, county Notts), a proud, ambitious, and violent woman, worked on her husband’s mind, to the detriment of her predecessor’s children, but in spite of it all, the coveted titles devolved, after some generations, on Catherine Fillol’s descendants, ancestors in the direct line to the present Duke of Somerset. Anne Stanhope brought her husband three sons and six daughters.

No. 5.

LUCIUS CAREY, SECOND VISCOUNT FALKLAND.By Vandyck.BORN IN 1610, KILLED IN BATTLE 1643.Half length. Black and white slashed dress.

LUCIUS CAREY, SECOND VISCOUNT FALKLAND.

By Vandyck.

BORN IN 1610, KILLED IN BATTLE 1643.

Half length. Black and white slashed dress.

OF the family of Careys of Cockington, county Devon, eldest son of Henry Carey, first Viscount Falkland, by Elizabeth, daughter and heir of Sir Laurence Tanfield, Chief Baron of Exchequer. Lucius was born at Burton, county Oxford, one of the estates his mother brought into the family. Studied at Trinity College, Dublin, and St. John’s, Cambridge.

Before attaining his majority he inherited a large fortune from his grandfather, while both parents were still living. With the hope of procuring some command, he went into the Low Countries; but being disappointed, he returned to England, and devoted himself to study. Lord Clarendon says that all the men of note and learning flocked from Oxford to his house, in the neighbourhood, ‘where they found a University in a less volume.’

The historian praises the young host for the solidity of his judgment, knowledge, wit, fancy, and extreme humility,—a rare combination of qualities and attainments.

Before Lucius was twenty-three he had read all the Latin and Greek Fathers, and studied diligently all the books he had collected from all parts.

About 1633, the time of his father’s death, he became attached to the Court of CharlesI.; in 1639 he went with theexpedition against the Scots, and afterwards volunteered under the Earl of Essex.

In April 1640 he sat for Newport, Isle of Wight, and after the dissolution was re-elected for the same place, in the same year. He made strenuous opposition in the House to the exorbitancies of the Court, and was a rigid observer of the laws, denouncing those Ministers who, on the plea of expediency, deviated from them. For this reason he withstood Lords Strafford and Finch with a boldness and vehemence at variance with his usual gentleness.

His concurrence in the first Bill, that was passed to deprive the Bishops of their votes, caused him to be suspected of lukewarmness to the Established Church. He maintained his belief in the good faith of Parliament, until he found how far the so-called popular party were carrying their measures, and then he came to a check, voted differently on the second Bishops’ Bill, and opposed the Commons on so many occasions as to be accused by them of truckling to the Court.

On this point he was so sensitive of suspicion that he was said to have refused the King’s offer of a place about his person, more than once, in a morose and curt manner, although in reality much attached to his royal master. He required persuasion to induce him to accept the office of Privy Councillor, and the positive command of the King, who at length also prevailed on him, to become his secretary. But in these offices Falkland maintained his own strict notions of honour and integrity, and he absolutely refused ever to employ a spy, or open a letter, however important the knowledge he might thus have gained. From this time he was most loyal in his adherence to Charles, and fell in consequence into the displeasure of the Parliament.

The anecdote of his visiting the library at Oxford is well known, and yet we cannot omit alluding to it. Taking down a copy of Virgil, Falkland invited the King to read hisdestiny therein, by opening the book at random. The passage was, alas! too soon verified:—

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