DINING-ROOM.

Reddish brown gown. Resting her hand on a table. Little girl in a white frock leaning against her aunt’s knee.BORN 1618. DIED 1664.By Stone after Vandyck.

Reddish brown gown. Resting her hand on a table. Little girl in a white frock leaning against her aunt’s knee.

BORN 1618. DIED 1664.

By Stone after Vandyck.

SHE was the third daughter of Francis, fourth Earl of Bedford, by Catherine Brydges. She married at a very early age James Hay, afterwards second Earl of Carlisle, of that family. Margaret’s father-in-law was often connected with her own father in the political events of the reign of Charles the First. After the death of her husband in 1660, she married her second lord, Robert Rich, Earl of Warwick, second Earl of Holland; and lastly, Edward Montagu, Earl of Manchester, of whom Clarendon speaks in terms of high eulogium. The little girl in the picture is Lady Diana Russell, afterwards Lady Allington.

No.3. THOMAS, EARL OF ARUNDEL AND SURREY.

In armour. With a boy beside him.BORN 1592. DIED 1646.By Vandyck.

In armour. With a boy beside him.

BORN 1592. DIED 1646.

By Vandyck.

RESPECTING this picture there has been more than one controversy, and it has been not only erroneously named in a catalogue of a gallery at Madrid, but copied, doubtless from thence, into the edition of engravings of Vandyck’s portraits in the British Museum. It has been miscalled Don Alonzo Perez de Guzman el Bueno and his son. The late Lord Bradford, when in Madrid, saw a replica of the picture in his possession, and made a note to the effect that the portrait could not be that of the Spanish nobleman in question, according to the date of Vandyck’s death. His lordship identified it as that of Thomas, Earl of Arundel and Surrey, and his grandson.

Thomas was the only son of Philip, Earl of Arundel (who died a prisoner in the Tower), by Anne, sister and co-heir of Thomas, Lord Dacre of Gillesland. He was deprived, by his father’s attainder, of the honours and greater part of the estates of his family, and had only the title of Lord Maltravers by courtesy during Queen Elizabeth’s reign, but was restored by Act of Parliament in the first year of James the First (1603) to all the titles and estates which his father had enjoyed before his attainder, as also to the Earldom of Surrey, and to such dignity of baronies as his grandfather, the Duke of Norfolk, had also forfeited. He was, moreover, created Earl Marshal in 1621, and Earl of Norfolk in 1644; he married Lady Alatheia Talbot, daughter, and eventually sole heir, of Gilbert,seventh Earl of Shrewsbury, and was succeeded by his second son, Henry Frederick.

Crimson dress. Pearl ornaments. Pillar in the background.BORN 1620, DIED 1683-4.By Vandyck.

Crimson dress. Pearl ornaments. Pillar in the background.

BORN 1620, DIED 1683-4.

By Vandyck.

IT has been well said of this beautiful and exemplary woman, that she is even (like the old Italian masters of painting) better known to posterity by her sobriquet than her name, for there were more than one Lady Sunderland, but only one ‘Saccharissa.’ The poet, therefore, may lay better claim to the title of godfather than the sponsors who held the infant Dorothy at the font. She was the eldest of the eight daughters of Robert Sidney, Earl of Leicester, of that name, by Dorothy, daughter of Henry Percy, ninth Earl of Northumberland. Lord and Lady Leicester bore a high character for ‘integrity and refinement of breeding at the Court of Charles the First, while in private life they shone a bright example of domestic harmony.’ Lady Leicester was a provident as well as a tender mother, and she entertained early projects in the matter of an advantageous marriage for her daughter, while Dorothy was still very young. At sixteen the girl was renowned for her beauty, and already surrounded by suitors. There appears to have been a talk at Court of the probability of a match with my Lord Russell, the heir of the house of Bedford; and Lady Leicester writes from the country to her lord at Court, in 1635:

‘It wouldrejoice me much to receave some hope of that lord’s addresses to Doll, that you writt of to me, for next to what consarns you, I confess she is considered by me above any thing of this world.’

This marriage, however, was not to be, and there was shortly after a talk of the Earl of Devonshire, which, by Lady Leicester’s correspondence, appears to have had some let or hindrance, through the interference of meddling interferers; beside, she considered his mother and sister were ‘full of decaite and jugling,’ professing to desire the union. The next aspirant to the fair hand of the beautiful daughter of Penshurst was no other than the celebrated Lord Lovelace, of whom her mother thus writes: ‘I find my Lord Lovelace so uncertaine and so idle, so much addicted to mean companie, and easily drawn to debaucherie, it is now my studie to brake off with him. Many particulars I could tell you of his wildnesse, but the knowledge of them would be of no use to you, as he is likely to be a stranger to us. For tho’ his estate is goode, his person pretie enowfe, his witte much more than ordinarie, yet dare I not venture to give Doll to him.’ Lady Leicester concludes her letter to her husband by saying, ‘My deere hart, let not these cross accidents trouble you, for we do not know what God has provided for her.’

The poet Waller now came forward and laid himself at the feet of the high-born beauty; he had been left a widower when quite young, and had gifts of nature and fortune to recommend him, but Dorothy’s parents looked for noble birth in a suitor for their daughter’s hand, and it is to be feared the poor poet was dismissed with some disdain. He was not inconsolable, however; he sought solace from his Muse, and, better still, in his union shortly afterwards with a willing bride.

A marriage was at length concluded ‘for dear Doll,’ which was calculated to satisfy the best expectations of her parents, and to ensure her own happiness.

Henry, Lord Spencer of Wormleighton, the first-born son of the second lord, by Penelope, daughter of Thomas Wriothesley, Earl of Southampton, was born at Althorp, his father’s country house, in 1620. To that father’s titles and large estates the young man succeeded in 1636, and in 1639 he was married at Penshurst, Lord Leicester’s beautiful home in Kent, to that nobleman’s eldest and most beloved daughter, Lady Dorothy Sidney. Lord Leicester was at the time Ambassador to the Court of France, and immediately after the marriage the happy young couple hurried off to join the bride’s father in Paris, where they remained for two years, that is to say, until Lord Leicester’s diplomatic mission was at an end. On their return, Lord Spencer took his seat in the House of Lords, and soon made himself an object of esteem and commendation by his talents and general good conduct. These qualities, added to his high position and large property, naturally made him an object worth contending for by the two adverse parties that were now beginning to convulse England. Lord Spencer had liberal views in the literal acceptation of the word, and stoutly opposed many measures which he considered arbitrary that emanated from the Throne; and the Parliament, which was now beginning to assume the executive, had great hopes of the young lord, and believed that they had bound him to their side when he accepted the Lord-Lieutenancy of his native county which they offered him. But Lord Spencer came of a loyal stock, and there is little doubt he cherished the hope of mediating between the King and his Parliament, in which expectation he had many sharers amongst the nobility and gentry of the land. He strove all he could to be a ‘daysman’ between the two factions, but finding that his admonitions to the Parliament when they broke out into open rebellion were of no avail, he proclaimed himself stoutly for the King; and in the early and blissful days of his married life he tore himself from the embrace of his beautiful wifeand the calm happiness of his ancestral home, to mix in the noise, turmoil, and danger of a camp, in company with his kinsman and countyman, the gallant Spencer Compton, Earl of Northampton, who was destined to fall at Hopton Heath. Lord Spencer joined the King at York, and when the royal standard was unfurled at Nottingham, he took the field as a volunteer. In his constant letters to his ‘dearest harte,’ he gives a melancholy picture of the perplexed and unsatisfactory state of affairs in the royal army. He says: ‘The discontent that I and other honest men receive dayly is beyond expression,’ and he declares ‘that were it not for the punctilio of honour’ he would not ‘remaine an howre.’

Lord Spencer was with the King at Edgehill, and with Prince Rupert at Bristol, etc. etc., and in 1643 he was raised to the dignity of Earl of Sunderland. He writes a long and most loving letter to his sweetest Doll from before Gloucester, and thanks her for her letters, ‘writing to you and hearing from you being the most pleasant entertainment I am capable of receiving in anie place, but especially here, where, but when I am in the trenches (which are seldom without my company), I am more solitarie than ever I was in mie life.’ In another letter written from Oxford in September 1643, he thus speaks of his little daughter: ‘Pray bless Popet for me, and tell her I would have writt to her, but on deliberation I deem it uncivil to return an answer to a ladie in anie other characters but her own, and that I am not learned enough to do.’ Alas! the brave soldier was never more destined to enjoy his wife’s dear company, or clasp his sweet Popet to his heart. Four days after that letter was penned, the writer was struck down by a cannon ball on the field of Newbury, in company with his friend and brother in arms, ‘the incomparable Falkland,’ and many other brave and loyal spirits. For twelve months Lord Sunderland had fought beside the King, as a volunteer, for he never would accept a commission. There is a mosttouching letter extant from Lord Leicester to his widowed daughter, which our limited space alone prevents our inserting here. The fair hopes contained in her old admirer Waller’s letter, written at the time of her marriage, to her sister, Lady Lucy Sidney, were far from being fulfilled. After wishing the couple every happiness, he says, ‘May her lord not mourn her long, but go hand in hand with her to that place where is neither marrying nor giving in marriage, but being divorced, we may all have an equal interest in her.’ There spoke the disappointed and jealous lover. Lady Sunderland was with child of a daughter at the period of her lord’s untimely death, who scarcely survived its birth. She retired to her husband’s estate in Northamptonshire, where she made herself generally beloved. ‘She is not to be mentioned,’ says Lloyd in his Memoirs of the Loyalists, ‘without the highest honour, in the catalogue of sufferers, to so many of whom her house was a sanctuary, her interest a protection, her estate a maintenance.’ Influenced, it is said, by her father’s wishes, she contracted a second marriage in 1652 to Sir Robert Smythe, of the family of the Lords Strangford, a gentleman of Kent, but was again left a widow; she survived Sir Robert some time, and, we are told, she continued to see her old flame Waller, to whom she one day put the dangerous question—‘Pray, Master Waller, when will you write such pretty verses to me again?’ Was it the sting of old mortification which prompted the cruel answer, ‘When your ladyship is young and beautiful again’? By her first husband Lady Sunderland had two children, Robert, the second Earl,—the Minister of whom the anecdote is told that when Addison intrusted Edmund Smith with the task of writing a history of the Revolution of 1688, the proposed author asked the staggering question, ‘What shall I do with the character of Lord Sunderland?’ and a daughter, Dorothy, who married Sir George Saville, afterwards Marquis of Halifax. By her second husband she had an only child, Robert, Governor of Dover Castle. LadySunderland lies buried by the side of her dearly loved Henry in a beautiful monument, in the Spencer chapel, in the church of Brington, hard by Althorp House, and in that house her name is still a household word; and Saccharissa’s bed, the curtains of which, having her embroidered monogram of S twisting round columns, may still be seen in one of the principal guest-chambers.

Front face and two profiles.BORN 1600, SUCCEEDED 1625, EXECUTED 1649.By Carlo Maratti after Vandyck.

Front face and two profiles.

BORN 1600, SUCCEEDED 1625, EXECUTED 1649.

By Carlo Maratti after Vandyck.

THE second son of James the First, by Anne of Denmark. Married Henrietta Maria of France. Dethroned and beheaded by his subjects. The original of this picture by Vandyck, now at Windsor Castle, was sent to Rome to Bernini, in order that he might make a bust from the same; Carlo Maratti copied the picture while in the sculptor’s studio. On first beholding the beautiful and noble head, the sculptor is said to have exclaimed, ‘That is the portrait of one who is born to misfortune.’

By Titian.

No.14. EDWARD SEYMOUR, FIRST DUKE OF SOMERSET, THE PROTECTOR.

Tight-fitting vest. Black hat.EXECUTED 1552.By Holbein.

Tight-fitting vest. Black hat.

EXECUTED 1552.

By Holbein.

THE second but eldest surviving son of Sir John Seymour, of Wulfhall, County Wilts, by Margaret, daughter of Sir John Wentworth of Nettlested, County Suffolk. He was educated at Oxford and Cambridge, and joining his father, who was in high favour at Court, entered the army, distinguished himself 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 at Greenwich, when Henry the Eighth kept his Christmas there.

On the King’s marriage with his sister, Jane Seymour, Edward was created Viscount Beauchamp, and in 1537 Earl of Hertford. He was then sent to France on a mission, and was created Knight Companion of the Garter, at Hampton Court, on his return. From this time his life became most eventful. He proceeded twice to Scotland, high in command, and again to France, where he was instrumental in concluding a peace with that country. Honours and distinctions too many to enumerate were heaped on the King’s brother-in-law, even after the death of poor Queen Jane. He was one of the many executors of Henry the Eighth, by whose will he was appointed guardian to the young King, and so prompt were his measures and so successful his ambitious and self-seekingpolicy that when the nephew was proclaimed King in London, the uncle was appointed Protector of the realm. He already bore the titles of Earl and Viscount, and Edward the Sixth, not content with adding the title of Baron, bestowed a ducal coronet upon him, in order 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.’ Thus ran the words of the patent. When the Duke of Norfolk was attainted, the Protector was made Earl Marshal for life. His power now became almost absolute, and the boy King, delighted to do his uncle honour, elected that he should sit on the right hand of the throne. Indeed Somerset was now king in all but name, and his enemies, of whom there were many, accused him of aspiring to the Crown in good earnest. It was alleged against him that he used the royal pronoun ‘we,’ and signed himself ‘Protector by the grace of God.’ But the life of Protector Somerset belongs to the chronicles of the history of England. Numerous factions rose up against him, at the head of which were the Earl of Warwick, his sworn enemy, and his own ungrateful brother, Thomas, Lord Seymour of Sudley. Many charges were brought against him; he was deprived of all his high offices, and imprisoned in the Tower. The young King, who loved him dearly, had little power to befriend his uncle, whose estates were forfeited, and he was treated with insult and contumely. The Earl of Warwick was bent on his destruction. Arraigned of high treason at Westminster Hall, he demanded a trial of his peers, was acquitted of the principal charge, but found guilty of felony, and after several months’ imprisonment, in spite of every attempt on King Edward’s part, Edward Seymour, Duke of Somerset, was condemned to die on the scaffold. On reaching the platform, he kneeled in prayer, and afterwards addressed the people, with the majority of whom he was a great favourite, in calm and measuredterms, declaring his innocence, his loyalty to the King, and his love of his native country. A tumult took place among the people, and a horseman appearing suddenly in the crowd, a cry was raised of ‘A pardon! a pardon!’ But all the time his arch-enemy, Lord Warwick (or rather Northumberland, as he then was), stood by untouched, shaking his cap and making signs to the people to be quiet. We have not space to make extracts from a dying speech, which for manliness, forbearance, and piety could scarcely be surpassed. The Duke, unbuckling his sword, presented it to the Lieutenant of the Tower, gave the executioner money, bade all near him farewell, and then kneeling down, arranged his collar and covered his face, which showed ‘no signs of trouble,’ with his handkerchief. Laying his head upon the block, he called out thrice ‘Lord Jesu, save me,’ and then received the death-stroke.

Edward, first Duke of Somerset, was twice married. First, to Catherine, daughter and co-heir of Sir William Fillol, of Woodlands, County Dorset, respecting whom there exists a mystery and rumours of misconduct. Certain it is that her son was disinherited. There seems little doubt, at all events, that the Duke’s second wife, the daughter of Sir Edward Stanhope, of Bampton, County Dorset, an ambitious and violent woman, worked on her husband’s mind, to the detriment of her predecessor’s children, in spite of which the coveted titles devolved after some generations on Catherine Fillol’s descendants, ancestors in direct line to the present Duke of Somerset.

By Lucas Cranach.

No.18. PORTRAIT OF A LADY WITH A MONKEY.

By Paris Bordone(?).

By Paul Veronese.

As Paris.BORN 1599, DIED 1641.After Vandyck.

As Paris.

BORN 1599, DIED 1641.

After Vandyck.

THE eldest son of a merchant in Antwerp (himself a painter in glass), by one Maria Cuypero. Little Anthony’s mother was a skilful artist in embroidery, and encouraged her boy’s taste for drawing, in the rudiments of which he received instruction from his father. When only ten years of age he became the pupil of Hendrik van Balen, a much-esteemed painter, who had studied in Italy; but young Vandyck had set his heart on entering the studio of his famous fellow-citizen, Peter Paul Rubens, and that desire was fulfilled. His remarkable talent and untiring industry made him a favourite both of master and scholars, when an incident happened which brought him into prominent notice. It chanced one afternoon, when Rubens was absent,that the scholars invaded the sanctity of the private studio, and, in the exuberance of animal spirits, indulged in what in modern parlance is called ‘bear-fighting.’ An unfinished Holy Family stood on an easel, the colours not yet dry, and, in the course of the rough play, one of his companions pushed Van Diepenbeke so heavily against the precious canvas that the arm of the Magdalen and the head of the Virgin were nearly effaced, and all the colours smudged. The general consternation may easily be conceived. A council was held, and a general decision arrived at that the most skilful among the students should endeavour to repair the mischief. Unanimous choice fell on Vandyck, who began to work in right earnest, for there was not a moment to lose. There were but a few hours of daylight left him, but he accomplished his task before nightfall. Early next morning the dreaded moment arrived. Rubens entered his studio in order to examine the work of the preceding evening, when he pronounced the memorable words which seemed to bestow a diploma on his young disciple: ‘Why, this looks better than it did yesterday!’ Then, approaching nearer, he detected the traces of a strange hand. Investigation and explanation followed, and Vandyck came in for great praise from the lips of his beloved master. Rubens was most desirous that his talented pupil should proceed to Italy to study the works of the great masters, but in the meantime the young man had received an invitation to England. The first visit he paid to our country was short and unsatisfactory, and there are so many discrepancies in the accounts of the work he did at that period and his reasons for leaving England somewhat abruptly, that we refrain from entering further on the subject. From England Vandyck proceeded to the Hague, where he painted portraits of every class and denomination of person, commencing with the Court and family of the Stadtholder, Henry Frederick. Nobles, warriors, statesmen, burghers, all vied forthe honour of sitting to him. The news of his father’s illness recalled him to Antwerp. He arrived just in time to receive that father’s blessing, and listen to his last injunctions, which included an order to paint an altar for the Chapel of the Dominican Sisters, who had nursed him tenderly in his illness. After many delays from various causes Vandyck arrived in Venice, where he studied Titian and Veronese, and afterwards proceeded to Genoa, where he became the favourite of the proudest nobles of that proud city, and adorned almost every palace therein with splendid portraits. At Rome he remained some years; the first order he received being that of the world-renowned portrait of Cardinal Bentivoglio, which attracted a crowd of sitters to his studio, including all the nobility of the city and most of the foreign visitors. He then made his way to Florence and most of the northern cities of Italy, with a flying visit to Sicily, whence he was driven by the outbreak of the plague. He returned to Antwerp, where he at first shared the proverbial fate of the prophet in his own country, and met with much ill-will and small patronage, until his old friend Rubens came to his rescue by buying every completed picture in his late scholar’s studio, and recommending and befriending him on every occasion. Shortly afterwards Rubens departed from Antwerp on a diplomatic mission, and he left Vandyck undisputed master of the field. His hands were now full; he received endless commissions both in portraits and sacred subjects. He afterwards went to Paris, and paid two visits to England; the second time he was received at Court with every mark of distinction. Charles the First treated the noble Fleming as a personal friend, taking the greatest delight in his society. He became the centre of attraction, and the cynosure of all eyes. Pre-eminently handsome, brilliant in conversation, a good linguist, an enlightened traveller—even without the crowning quality of his splendid talent, the painter became a shining light in therefined and aristocratic circles of the English capital. The King bestowed the honour of knighthood on him, and presented him with a valuable miniature of himself set in diamonds. Both their Majesties sat constantly for their portraits, and it is needless to observe that every country house in England is enriched by treasures from the brush of Vandyck. The King and the Duke of Buckingham were busy in arranging a suitable match for their friend and favourite. The lady selected was Mary Ruthven, a member of the Queen’s household, and grand-daughter of the unfortunate Earl Gowrie, much esteemed for her goodness and beauty, who visited Antwerp with her husband shortly after their marriage, where they were received with every mark of respect and distinction. After this they went to Paris, where Vandyck met with disappointment, and fell into bad health, and on his return to England he found that country in a state of confusion and political strife, his royal and private friends involved in trouble and perplexity, the King and Queen both absent from London, and the Parliament in arms against the Crown. Sir Anthony’s health declined, both physically and morally. He gave himself up to the pursuit of alchemy, and would stand for hours over a hot fire in the vain hope of obtaining the philosopher’s stone; He grew haggard and wrinkled while still in the prime of life. The King, returning to London, and hearing of his friend’s illness, sent his own physician, but all human aid was unavailing. A severe attack of gout, combined with other maladies, proved fatal, and on the 9th of December 1641, the man who by many has been considered the chief of the world’s portrait painters breathed his last. Followed by a large retinue of friends, he was buried in St. Paul’s Cathedral, leaving a most exemplary will, in which wife, child, sister, servants, were all remembered, as also the poor in two parishes. He left an only daughter, Justiniana, who married Sir John Stepney of Prendergast, Pembroke, and afterwards Martin de Carbonnell.She received a pension from King Charles the Second.

Lady Vandyck married a Welsh baronet, Sir Robert Pryce, as his second wife.

By Paul Veronese.

Black and white dress.BEHEADED 1539.By Holbein.

Black and white dress.

BEHEADED 1539.

By Holbein.

THE Carews came of an ancient family in Devonshire, but the branch to which Sir Nicholas belonged had settled at Beddington, in Surrey, an estate that had come into their possession by marriage.

Nicholas was the eldest son of Sir Richard Carew, Knight-Banneret, by Magdalen, daughter of Sir Thomas Oxenbridge, Bart., of Ford, in Sussex. When Sir Richard died, and his son succeeded, the landed property was very extensive, and it was said the owner might start from his own house, and ride in any direction straight on end for ten miles at least on his own land. When still a youth Nicholas went to Paris, where, we are told, he became so enamoured of French manners, customs, and fashions, that on his return to England he couldspeak and boast of nothing else. Handsome, well-born, and accomplished, he soon attracted the notice of Henry the Eighth, who welcomed him at Court, and appointed him a Gentleman of the Privy Chamber, a place which was then of much higher standing than in later days. But Carew did not make himself popular in the royal household. The constant comparisons which he daily drew between the French and English Courts, to the great disparagement of the latter, offended his colleagues in the highest degree, and were not calculated to gratify the King. Henry resolved to give the young man a lesson. If he were so devoted to France, to France he should go, and that without delay. At the same time, unwilling to dismiss him without some ostensible reason, he appointed Sir Nicholas governor of a fortress in Picardy, which was in the hands of the English. A castle in a provincial town did not offer the charms which Carew had found in the splendid capital of France, and it may easily be believed the office did not suit his taste. He doubtless petitioned the King; at all events, he was recalled, forgiven, and taken back into favour. He now became Henry’s almost inseparable companion, and was foremost in all the jousts, tournaments, maskings, and all kinds of Court revelry, in which they both excelled and delighted. Carew was, moreover, appointed Master of the Horse, at that period one of the highest offices in the realm, and Knight of the Garter.

The favour of Henry the Eighth was as easily lost as won, and Fuller tells us that a tradition in the family reported that Carew’s downfall proceeded, in the first instance, from a quarrel between him and his master at bowls, ‘when his Grace, who was no good fellow, and would always rather give than take in repartee,’ so exasperated his Master of the Horse, ‘that his answer was rather true than discreet, consulting his own animosity rather than his allegiance, whereat the King was so offended that Sir Nicholas fell from the top of hisfavour to the bottom of his displeasure, and was bruised to death.’ ‘This’—we quote Fuller all the time—‘was the true cause of his execution. He was charged with high treason, as accomplice with the Marquis of Exeter, Lord Montague, Sir Edward Neville, and others, in a plot to depose King Henry the Eighth, and place Cardinal Pole on the throne. They were all found guilty, and sentenced to death, with the exception of the Cardinal’s brother, who saved his own life by betraying his confederates. The evidence against Sir Nicholas appears to have been slight, but he was out of favour, and everything was turned to his prejudice. He was beheaded on Tower Hill in 1539.’ Holinshed said ‘he made a godly confession of his fault, and his superstitious faith.’ He was a Roman Catholic. Sir Nicholas Carew married Elizabeth, daughter and afterwards sole heir of Sir Thomas Bryan, Master of Common Pleas, by whom he had one son and three or four daughters.

The son, Sir Francis Carew, never married, but having regained a considerable portion of the estates forfeited on his father’s attainder, during the reign of Elizabeth, he bequeathed his property to his sister’s son, Sir Nicholas Throckmorton, on condition that he assumed the name and arms of Carew.

By Vandyck.

By Tintoretto.

No.30. THE COUNTESS OF OXFORD.

Blue and white dress. Holding a nosegay. A table beside her.By Vandyck.

Blue and white dress. Holding a nosegay. A table beside her.

By Vandyck.

BEATRIX VAN HEMMEND, a Dutch lady, a native of Friesland, married Robert de Vere, nineteenth Earl of Oxford. He died in 1632, at the siege of Maestricht, leaving an only surviving child, in whom the earldom became extinct.

By Titian.

Black dress. Hand on his breast. A globe by his side.BORN 1603, DIED 1665.By Vandyck.

Black dress. Hand on his breast. A globe by his side.

BORN 1603, DIED 1665.

By Vandyck.

SON of Sir Everard Digby, born at Gothurst or Gayhurst, County Bucks, the property of his mother, daughter and sole heir of Sir William Mulsho. He was but a child when his father suffered death as one of the conspirators in the Gunpowder Plot. The Crown laid claim to the estates and revenues of the family; but the widowed Lady Digby, a woman of great energy and determination, not only saved her own dower by herstrenuous efforts, but rescued a few hundreds for her son out of the wreck, and, although a rigid Roman Catholic, she suffered her boy to be educated as a Protestant from prudential motives. The romance of the loves of Kenelm Digby and Venetia Stanley, which made such a noise at the time, and has been the subject of curiosity and controversy ever since, whenever their names are mentioned, began at a very early age. Sir Edward Stanley, of the noble house of Derby, lived at Tong Castle, County Salop. He married the daughter and co-heir of the Earl of Northumberland, who brought him two daughters, ‘the divine Venetia’ being the youngest. Her mother died when she was a few months old. The widower gave himself up to grief, shunned the world, and could not even derive comfort from the society of his children. He sent them therefore (or at all events Venetia) to the care of a relative, who was a neighbour of Lady Digby’s. Thus began the acquaintance, and Sir Edward’s beautiful little girl and Lady Digby’s lovely boy met constantly, and played at love-making, jealousy, rivalry, coquetry, quarrels, reconciliations,—in fact a perfect rehearsal of all the drama that was to be enacted in good earnest a few years later. The marriage of the Princess Elizabeth with the Elector Palatine, afterwards King of Bohemia, called Sir Edward to London. With a violent wrench he tore himself away from his seclusion, and sending for Venetia carried her with him to the Court of King James, then the scene of great festivity.

In all these gaieties, according to Digby’s account, the juvenile beauty took part, and was the centre of admiration. In the meantime her young lover pursued his studies under the care of Laud, Dean of Gloucester, subsequently Archbishop of Canterbury, and afterwards with Dr. Thomas Allen, an eminent scholar, at Oxford.

Digby distinguished himself at the University, where he remained two years, but whenever he returned home for thevacation, the flirtation with his fair neighbour was resumed. He wrote a strange and wild romance respecting her, in which it is impossible to disentangle truth from fiction, but some of the adventures are too marvellous for belief, and the whole narrative is disagreeable, and tedious into the bargain.

His jealousy seems to have been excited by a certain courtier, whose suit, he affirms, was favoured by Venetia’s governess. Lady Digby was too wise a mother to smile on such a precocious courtship, even if she disbelieved the reports which had already begun to circulate, detrimental to Mistress Stanley’s reputation.

She despatched her son on foreign travel, but before his departure the lovers had met and plighted their troth. According to the traveller’s own account, he made a conquest of the French Queen when in Parisen routefor Italy.

A report of his death having been accidentally or purposely circulated, Venetia’s conduct on the occasion was differently represented to her absent lover, some declaring she was inconsolable, others that she lent a willing ear to the suit of the very same courtier who had before excited Kenelm’s jealousy.

Nothing can be more bombastic and high-flown than the language in which he describes the fluctuations of his passion for Venetia, his implicit trust in her constancy in one page, his doubts and suspicions in another.

It seems more than probable that the prudent Lady Digby intercepted her son’s love-letters, and did all in her power to prevent a marriage she thought most undesirable, and she was doubtless delighted when Kenelm accompanied his kinsman, Lord Bristol, to Spain, where he was then negotiating the Prince of Wales’s marriage with the Infanta at Madrid. Kenelm became himself attached to the Prince’s suite, and took an active part in diplomatic transactions.

In this land of romance it may well be imagined that the handsome and accomplished Englishman ran the gauntlet ofmany adventures among the dark-eyed daughters of the South, nor does he omit to allude to innumerable conquests; indeed, he went so far as to have a portrait of himself painted with an effigy of one of his victims in the background, yet he incessantly boasted of his constancy to the absent loved one. On his return to England with the Prince of Wales, he was knighted by the King at Hinchingbrook, and immediately flew to his lady-love in spite of maternal prohibition. Then followed recriminations, explanations, trials of her faith and virtue, challenges, duels—a stormy suit, indeed, according to his own testimony.

Respecting the date of their marriage there is great difference of opinion. At all events, Kenelm insisted on its being kept secret, nor was poor Venetia allowed to announce it, even when a fall from her horse brought on a premature confinement, which nearly cost her her life.

King James admired Sir Kenelm for his great erudition, and complimented him on his essays on Sympathetic Powder, Alchemy, and other subjects bordering on the supernatural. On the accession of Charles the First, Sir Kenelm Digby was made Gentleman of the Privy Chamber, Commissioner of the Navy, and Governor of the Trinity House, shortly after which, he was appointed to the command of a naval squadron, sent to the Mediterranean against the Venetian fleet and the Algerine pirates.

In this voyage he was eminently successful, bringing the Venetians to terms, chastising the pirates, and releasing a large number of English slaves. It is said that on the eve of his embarkation, a second son being born to him, he had permitted his wife to declare their marriage, and had consigned her to the care of his kinsman, Lord Bristol, during his absence from England. About this time, his faithful old friend, Thomas Allen, bequeathed to him a splendid library, which he made over to the Bodleian.

In 1633, after his return, his beautiful but far from happy wife died, and the mystery which had shrouded Venetia’s whole life hung like a dark cloud over her death, and reports of all kinds were current.

There is no doubt that Sir Kenelm had been in the habit of making chemical and alchemical experiments on Venetia for some time past, and the tradition of the concoction of snails which he had invented as a preservative of her naturally brilliant complexion is still extant at Gayhurst, where it is said the somewhat rare breed of large ‘Pomatia’ is still to be found.

By Digby’s desire his wife’s head (‘which contained but little brain’) was opened, and he decided that she had taken an overdose of viper wine. But spiteful women declared she had fallen a victim to a viper husband’s jealousy, though Aubrey, who tells sad tales of Venetia before her marriage, says she was a blameless wife.

There is more than one portrait of her, with allegorical emblems of Innocence, Slander, and the like. Her name had often been coupled with that of the Earl of Dorset, and some said he had settled an annuity on her, which was paid up to the time of her death. Be this as it may, Sir Kenelm and Lady Digby always dined once a year with my Lord Dorset, who received them courteously but formally, only permitting himself to kiss the beauty’s hand with great respect.

Venetia was buried in a church near Newgate, in a tomb of black marble, with long inscriptions, surmounted by a copper-gilt bust, all destroyed in the great fire. Numerous epitaphs were written in her honour. Ben Jonson calls her ‘A tender mother, a discreet wife, a solemn mistress, a good friend, so lovely and charitable in all her petite actions, so devote in her whole life,’ etc.

Whatever Sir Kenelm’s real feelings were, his outward grief was extreme. He retired to Gresham College, lived like a hermit, studied chemistry, wore a long mourning cloak, andleft his beard unshorn. Although it was generally supposed that his secession from the Protestant faith took place when he was in Spain, it was not until 1653 that he wrote to his friend Laud (whose admirable answer is extant) to announce the fact. He was a firm adherent of CharlesI., and greatly esteemed by Henrietta Maria; but his loyalty got him into trouble with the Parliament, and he was exiled to France. Returning in a few months he was imprisoned in 1640 for nearly three years, and was supposed only to have regained his liberty through the intercession of the French Queen, who had loved him twenty years before. His release, however, was conditional. He was forbidden to take part in any public affairs, and he therefore gave himself up to literary and scientific pursuits, and engaged in a polemical correspondence with his quondam tutor, Laud, whom he is said to have tempted to change his faith, by the bait of a Cardinal’s Hat. Sir Kenelm returned to France and frequented the Court of his old flame, the Queen Dowager, where his noble appearance, almost gigantic size, his handsome features, agreeable conversation and manners, his learning, and last, but perhaps not least, his predilection for the occult sciences, made him an universal favourite. On the death of his eldest son, killed on the Royalist side at the battle of St. Neot’s, Sir Kenelm returned to compound for his estates, but was not suffered to remain in England. He went back to Paris, where Henrietta Maria made him her Chancellor; and he was then intrusted with a mission to Pope InnocentX., who welcomed him at first, but after a time the ‘Englishman grew high, and hectored at His Holiness, and gave him the lie.’

Once more in England, after the dissolution of the Long Parliament, Cromwell took him into his confidence, hoping by his mediation to gain over the Roman Catholics.

His conduct in these circumstances has been praised by some and censured by others, as may well be imagined, accordingto religious and political bias. He travelled through France, Lower Germany, and the Palatinate, always seeking and being sought by men of letters; and 1660 saw him once more back in his native land.

CharlesII.showed him but little favour. He was nominated F.R.S., and resided (1663) in a fair house in Covent Garden, where he had a laboratory. ‘Philosopher, theologian, courtier, soldier; polite, amiable, handsome, graceful.’ Lord Clarendon’s testimony is, ‘eccentric, vain, unstable in religion, a duellist.’ These are the counterbalancing portraits of Sir Kenelm Digby. He desired to be buried near Venetia. His epitaph was as follows:—

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