Chapter III: Part 3

The evening before his death, after bidding adieu to some of his friends, his wife and children came to take a last farewell. He parted with them (tender father and devoted husband as he was) in composed silence, and Lady Russell had such control over herself that when she was gone he said, ‘The bitterness of death is past.’ ‘He talked,’ says Burnet, ‘at much length about her. It had rather grieved him that she had run about so much beating every bush for his preservation, but that, perhaps, it would be a mitigation of her sorrow to feel she had done all in her power to save him.’ ‘Yet,’ he said, ‘what a blessing it was that she had that magnanimity of spirit joined to her tenderness as never to have desired him to do a base thing for the saving of his own life; there was a signal providence of God in giving him such a wife, with birth, fortune, understanding, religion, and great kindness to him. But her carriage in his extremity was above all! It was a comfort to leave his children in such a mother’s hands, who had promised him to take care of herself for his sake.’ Burnet further tells us that ‘the prisoner received the Sacrament from Archbishop Tillotson with much devotion, and I preached two short sermons, which he heard with great affection. He went into his chamber about midnight, and I stayed the whole night in the adjoining room. He went to bed about two in the morning, and was fast asleep about four, when, by his desire, we called him. He was quickly dressed, and lost no time in shaving, for he said he was not concerned in his good looks that day. He went two or three times back into his chamber to pray by himself, and then came and prayed again with Tillotson and me. He drank a little tea and some sherry, and then he said now he had done with time, and was going to eternity. He asked what he should give the executioner, and I told him ten guineas; he smiled, and said it was a pretty thing to give a fee to have his head cut off. The Sheriffs came about ten o’clock; Lord Cavendish was waiting below to take leave of him. They embraced very tenderly. Lord Russell on a second thought came back and pressed Cavendish earnestly to apply himself more to religion, telling him what great comfort and support he felt from it now in his extremity. Tillotson and I went in the coach with him. Some of the crowd wept, while others insulted him; he was touched with the one expression, but did not seem provoked by the other. He was singing psalms most of the way, and said he hoped to sing better soon. Looking at the great crowd he said ‘I hope I shall soon see a much better assembly.’ He walked about the scaffold four or five times, then he turned to the Sheriffs, and in presenting the paper he protested his innocence of any design against the King’s life, or any attempt to subvert the Government. He prayed God to preserve the Protestant religion, and earnestly wished that Protestants should love one another, and not make way for Popery by their animosities. He forgave all his enemies, and died in charity with all mankind. After this he prayed again with Archbishop Tillotson, and more than once by himself. Then William Russell stood erect, arranged his dress, and, without the slightest change of countenance, laid his noble head upon the block, ‘which was struck off (says Evelyn) by three butcherly strokes.’

Five years afterwards when James the Second stood on the brink of ruin, he did not disdain to apply to the Earl of Bedford for help. ‘My Lord,’ he said, ‘you are an honest man, and of great credit in the country, and can do me signal service. ‘Ah, sire,’ replied the Earl, ‘I am old and feeble, and can be of little use, but I once had a son who could have assisted you, and he is no more.’ By which answer James was so struck, that he could not speak for several moments.

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No. 14. WILLIAM HARVEY, M.D.

_Black gown. Black skull-cap._

BORN 1578, DIED 1657-8.

BY RILEY.

SON of Thomas Harvey of Folkestone, in Kent, by Joan Hawke, and eldest of seven sons and two daughters. The parents were well-to-do people, who brought up their children carefully and respectably. Mrs. Harvey seems to have been a most estimable woman, if we only believe one half the virtues ascribed to her on the tablet in Folkestone Church, where she lies buried; the epitaph, though couched in the eulogistic and lengthy style which was the fashion of the day, is sufficiently characteristic to merit insertion. The mother of a great man is in our eyes always deserving of notice.

‘She was a godly, harmless woman, a chaste, loving wife, a charitable, quiet neighbour, a comfortable and friendly matron, a provident housewife and tender mother. Elected of God, may her soul rest in heaven (as her body in this grave), to her a happy advantage, to hers an unhappy loss.’

When only ten years old William Harvey went to a Grammar School, and subsequently to Caius College, Cambridge, where, we are told, ‘he studied classics, dialectics, and physics.’ It was the fashion of the day for young men of any standing to finish their education on the Continent, in one or other of those schools of learning and science which were indeed the resort of the youth of all nations. Harvey fixed his choice on Padua, then especially rich in eminent Professors in all branches of learning. He had been early destined, both by the wishes of his family and his own inclination, for the medical profession; and at Padua, under the auspices of the celebrated Fabricius of Acquapendente and others, our young Englishman, whose zeal was equal to his intelligence, laid the foundation of his future greatness, and made rapid strides in the path of fame. He remained five years at Padua, and before his departure, at the age of twenty-four, received his doctor’s diploma, with ‘licence to practise in every land and seat of learning.’ On his return to England he obtained his doctor’s degree at his old University of Cambridge, after which he settled in London, and married the daughter of one Lancelot Brown, M.D. Harvey soon got into extensive practice, enlarged his connection daily, and, while rising step by step in his profession, made himself beloved (as is mostly the case with the true disciple of St. Luke) by the skill and charity he exercised among the poor and afflicted by whom he was surrounded.

Before long he was elected a member of St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, and subsequently Principal Physician of that important establishment, where, in the course of his tenure, he introduced the most stringent reforms and regulations, which were considered needlessly severe by the younger students, who had grown into habits of laxity and idleness. But neither the duties of his office, nor his practice which he carried on outside the walls, were allowed to interfere in any way with his literary labours. Making the profoundest researches into every branch of medical science, perusing and weighing the arguments of those very writers whom he was destined to eclipse; he attracted the notice of King James the First, one of whose redeeming qualities it was to encourage learning, and who found great delight in the society of eminent men. The King named Harvey Physician Extraordinary, with a reversionary promise of the regular post at Court when it should become vacant, which did not occur till after the accession of Charles the First. He was also body physician to several noblemen and gentlemen of eminence, such as the Lord Chancellor Bacon and Thomas Howard, Earl of Arundel, with whom he travelled on the Continent. He was appointed Lecturer to the Royal College of Physicians, in Amen Corner, where, with some interruptions (through absence, Court duties, and other hindrances), he continued for many years to attract and interest his colleagues by his knowledge and eloquence. It was in the course of these lectures that he first promulgated his wondrous doctrines on the motions of the heart and the circulation of the blood; a subject with which the name of William Harvey is indissolubly connected. The theories that had been hatching in his prolific mind for long now took form and shape in his immortal work, which he dedicated to King Charles, and to his own College. It was this work (although one of many) which enriched the science of medicine, and rendered his name immortal. The circulation of the blood had from time immemorial been the theme of dispute and discussion among men of all nations; but it was reserved, says Birch, for William Harvey in 1628 to publish a book which was the clearest, the shortest, and the most convincing that had ever yet been written on the subject. The startling discoveries, and the bold manner in which they were expounded, kindled a flame of antagonism and rivalry in the medical world. Learned Professors, and men who professed without learning, rose to denounce, to question, to deny him even the merit of originality, for had not the same theories been known to the ancients? To the manifold attacks by which he was assailed Harvey maintained for the most part a dignified silence, though compelled in some cases to rise up and defend himself and his opinions from adversaries, both English and foreign.

In 1636 he accompanied his friend and patron, Thomas Howard, Earl of Arundel, when that nobleman went on a special mission to the Emperor of Germany. Harvey did not neglect this opportunity of making the acquaintance of all the eminent men of science in the country, who in their turn were desirous (from mingled motives) of meeting a man with whose name Europe was now ringing. In a conclave of medical men at Nürnberg our doctor made a public declaration of his professional faith, when he was met by the most strenuous opposition. The learned Caspar Hoffman, in particular, was so violent and unreasonable in his arguments, that William Harvey, after listening with singular forbearance for a considerable time, laid down the scalpel, which he held and quietly left the apartment. It was in this expedition with Lord Arundel that one of his Excellency’s gentlemen told Aubrey that Lord Arundel was rendered very anxious by the frequent explorings of his physician into the woods, where was great fear, not only of wild beasts, but also of thieves, and where, indeed, the doctor one time narrowly escaped with life. But Harvey would not neglect the chance of studying the strange trees and foreign plants, and adding to his collection of toads, frogs, and the like, for the purpose of experimenting upon them—was sometimes like to be lost indeed, so that my Lord Ambassador was angry with him. With all these contentions and animadversions we are not surprised to hear that at one time Harvey’s practice declined, and Aubrey says, ‘He was treated by many as a visionary and a madman, and though everybody admired his anatomy, most people questioned his therapeutics, so much so that his bills (_i.e._ recipes and prescriptions) were not worth threepence.’ He now gave himself up to the prosecution of his Court duties, and was indefatigable in his attendance on the King. The relationship between Charles and his physician was of the most friendly and intimate nature. Harvey speaks of his royal master in terms of true affection, while the King took great delight in frequenting the doctor’s dissecting-room, and studying anatomy and medicine under his tutelage. On the breaking out of the civil wars Harvey became more than ever attached in every sense of the word to the person of the King, following him wheresoever he went, to court and camp. On their return from Scotland our peace-loving doctor was present at the battle of Edgehill, where Aubrey records a very characteristic, and almost comical adventure. It was in 1642, during the fight in question, that Harvey was intrusted with the care of the Prince of Wales and the Duke of York. He accordingly withdrew with his young charges to what he considered the shelter of a hedge, and finding the time hang heavy on his hands, he took a book from his pocket, which he began calmly and leisurely to peruse, when a large bullet grazed and disturbed the grass at his feet, and induced him to move further from the heat of the battle. Again we quote Aubrey, who met him at Oxford, where the Court then was, and though ‘too young to become acquainted with so learned a doctor,’ yet he remembers well how Harvey would come to our College to the chambers of George Bathurst, tutor, who kept hens for the hatching purposes in his rooms. Harvey would break the eggs daily at intervals in order to watch the different progress of formation towards the ‘perfect chick’; and all this with a view to the medical works he was writing. How widely at variance were these calm studies compared with the wild turmoil of political and military excitement by which he was surrounded! The Wardenship of Merton College becoming vacant by the resignation of Sir Matthew Brent, a Parliamentarian, the King recommended Harvey for the vacant post, which he obtained, but did not enjoy long, for when Oxford surrendered to the Roundheads, Brent resumed his office. We cannot be surprised to hear that so loyal a subject as Harvey incurred the ire of Cromwell, and on the doctor’s return to London he found his house sacked, the furniture destroyed, and, worse than all, as he himself told Aubrey, ‘No griefe was so crucifyinge as the loss of those papers (treating of his medical experiences and experiments) which neither love nor money could replace.’ It must have been about the year 1646 that Dr. Harvey made up his mind to resign his place at Court. Many reasons were given for this step, many apologies made for his forsaking his royal master; but he was near upon seventy, and it appears natural that a man of so peaceful a nature and of such studious taste should prefer a calmer existence than that of ‘following the drum.’ His retirement not only enabled him to pursue the bent of his inclinations and to indulge in contemplation, but also to enjoy the society of his brothers, who were of that number that verily dwelt together in unity. They held their elder in honour and affection, and vied with each other in welcoming him warmly to their respective homes. His next brother Eliab seems to have been his favourite, as he made his home for the most part either at the said Eliab’s London residence of Cokaine House, near the Poultry, or at Roehampton, in Surrey. On the leads of the former dwelling the doctor was wont to pass many hours in contemplation, arranging his different stations with a view to the sun and wind. At Combe there were caverns specially constructed in the garden for the physician to meditate, as he always found darkness most conducive to thought. The thrifty Eliab took William’s financial affairs in hand, which he conducted with so much energy and discernment as to increase his brother’s income, and enable him to indulge his generous propensities towards private individuals and public institutions. He became a munificent benefactor to his beloved College of Physicians, both by gifts in his lifetime, and bequest by testament. He enlarged the buildings, added a wing, and a large hall for conference, endowed it with a library and a museum, and, in fact, was so noble in his gifts that the grateful College erected a statue in his honour, with a long and flattering inscription. But, alas! all these valuable additions, together with the whole edifice, were destroyed in the Great Fire of London. At the age of seventy-one the doctor’s energy remained so unabated, that not only did he continue his literary labours, but he travelled to Italy with his friend and disciple Sir George Brent. On the last day of June 1657 William Harvey was stricken with the palsy, and, on endeavouring to speak, found that he had lost the power to do so. He ordered his apothecary by signs to ‘lett him blood,’ but this gave him no relief, and his professional knowledge warned him that the end was approaching. He therefore sent for his brother and nephews, to whom he himself delivered some little token of affection, a watch or what not, bidding them tenderly farewell, with dumb but eloquent signs of affection. He died the same day as he was stricken. His friend Aubrey exonerates him from the false charge of having hastened his own death by drinking opium, which he occasionally used as an alleviation of pain, but said Harvey had ‘an easy passport.’

A long train of his colleagues from the Royal College attended his funeral, and Aubrey himself was one of the bearers. He was buried at Hempstead, in Essex, and was ‘lapped’ in a leaden case, which was shaped in form of the body, with a label bearing the illustrious name of William Harvey, M.D., on his breast.

The last will and testament of men who lay claim to any celebrity appear to us to merit notice as indicative of character. Harvey’s will did not in any way belie his life. He left his faithful steward and brother, Eliab Harvey, the bulk of his property in money and land, as likewise (Aubrey thinks out of tender sentiment) his silver coffee-pot; for the brothers were wont to drink coffee together at a time when it was reckoned an uncommon luxury, before coffee-houses were prevalent in England. To all his other relations he left small sums that they might purchase remembrances; to his College, and to more than one hospital, generous bequests; scarcely any one was forgotten. To his dear and learned friend Mr. Thomas Hobbes £10, to Dr. Scarborough his velvet embroidered gown, to another his case of silver-mounted surgical instruments, and so on. Nor were his faithful servants, who had tended him in sickness, forgotten; ‘the pretty young wench’ who waited on him at Oxford, and to whom Aubrey alludes in jesting terms, in spite of Harvey’s proverbial insensibility to female charms, proved a most tender nurse, and was gratefully remembered. We hear very little at any time about Mistress Harvey, or the esteem in which her husband held her, but we are told she had a parrot, whose prattle much amused the learned doctor.

He corresponded with learned men, both at home and abroad, and was linked in friendship with such men as Hobbes, Robert Boyle, Cowley, and the like. By nature he was hot-tempered and outspoken, although a courtier. He rode to visit his patients on horseback, with a servant to follow him on foot—‘a decent custom,’ Aubrey thinks, the discontinuance of which he regrets. The same authority says Harvey ‘was of the lowest stature, and an olivaster complexion, like unto wainscott; little eye, round, bright, and black, and hair like the raven, but quite white before his death,’ which could scarcely be wondered at, as he was then eighty years of age. His friend, the learned Mr. Hobbes, says that Harvey was ‘the only man, perhaps, who ever lived to see his own doctrines established in his lifetime.’ This statement, the truth of which appears more than questionable, it is easy to imagine, was put forth under the influence of mortified feeling on the part of the ‘philosopher of Malmesbury.’ We refer the reader who is curious in such research to the catalogues of the principal scientific libraries, both in England and on the Continent, for a list of this great physician’s professional works, as their names alone would enlarge in an inconvenient manner the bulk of our volume.

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No. 15. THE HONOURABLE EDWARD RUSSELL.

_In armour. Red sash over right shoulder. White collar, with tassels.
Long hair._

DIED 1665.

BY REMÉE.

HE was the youngest son of Francis, fourth Earl of Bedford, by Catherine Brydges. He married Penelope, daughter and co-heir of Sir Moses Hill of Hillsborough Castle, Ireland (Knight Marshal of Ulster, and ancestor of the present Marquis of Downshire), and widow of Sir William Brooke, Knight, by whom he had five sons and daughters. His second son was eventually raised to the Peerage by the title of the Earl of Oxford. Edward Russell survived his wife, and, dying in 1665, was buried at Chenies.

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No. 16. WILLIAM RUSSELL, FIFTH EARL, FIRST DUKE OF BEDFORD.

_In armour. Lace cravat. Wig._

BORN 1613, DIED 1700.

BY SIR GODFREY KNELLER.

HE was the eldest son of Francis Russell, fourth Earl of Bedford, by Catherine Brydges, daughter and co-heir of Lord Chandos. He was educated at Magdalen College, Oxford; and after travelling abroad for two years, we are told he returned home in 1634, a very handsome and accomplished gentleman. Of his personal beauty and noble bearing the fine portrait of William Russell, and Lord Digby, by Vandyck, bears undoubted testimony. He had been created Knight of the Bath at the coronation of Charles the First. The representative of a high-born family, and heir to a very large fortune, young Lord Russell was keenly watched by the match-makers of the day. At that time three rival beauties divided the admiration of the Court—Lady Elizabeth Cecil, Lady Dorothy Sidney, and Lady Anne Carr, the only child of the Earl and Countess of Somerset. She was born in the Tower at the time of her mother’s imprisonment for the murder of Sir Thomas Overbury, and had been brought up in total ignorance of her parents’ ignominy. ‘The voice goes,’ says a contemporary writer, ‘that young Russell bends somewhat towards the Lady Anne Carr.’ One would not be surprised to hear that Lord Bedford was most adverse to the union. He trembled for the future welfare of his son, and the honour of his house, for heavy was the blot on the young lady’s ‘scutcheon. He promised his consent to any other union his son should project; but it was too late: Lord Russell’s choice was free no more, and the sequel proved the selection had been for his own happiness, and that of the whole family. The King interested himself in the cause of the young lovers, and sent the Duke of Lennox to mediate with Lord Bedford in the matter. Lord Somerset, with all his crimes on his head, had proved himself the most tender and devoted of fathers, giving his child an excellent and strictly virtuous education, and he made every sacrifice in his power to give her a good dowry, seeing that her poverty was an additional obstacle to the marriage in Lord Bedford’s eyes; so Somerset sold his house at Chiswick, his furniture, his plate and jewels; in fact denuded himself of almost all he had, to make settlements on Lady Anne, ‘for,’ said he to the Lord Chamberlain, ‘if one of us is to be undone by the marriage, let it be myself, rather than my own deserving child.’ And so came about this marriage, and the lovely creature, whose sweet innocent young face is familiar to all lovers of Vandyck, became the wife of Lord Russell, and the future mother of the patriot William.

Lord Russell sat in Parliament for Tavistock, having for colleague the famous Mr. Pym; but in the commencement of his career he did not take much part in debate, but was chiefly employed in carrying messages from the Lower to the Upper House.

The death of Francis, fourth Earl of Bedford, caused great excitement in political circles, and the new Earl received a deputation from the House of Peers expressive of condolence, and the hope that ‘as soon as his Lordship’s sorrow would allow him, he would take his seat, for no one could better supply the place of his deceased father.’ These conjectures were confirmed, for the new Lord followed in the footsteps of his father, and in all the part he took in the coming struggles, he was ever ready to support liberal and enlightened views, and to advocate what he considered necessary reforms; withstanding undue encroachments on the part of the King. He was, however, inclined to wise and moderate views from the beginning, and deeply regretted the circumstances which had led to civil dissension and open war; but the times were too stormy, and the pressure of the political barometer too high, to allow of a middle course. Disgusted with what he considered the arbitrary measures and the obstinacy of the King, Lord Bedford now espoused the cause of the Parliament, and even accepted the post of General in their army. He besieged the Royalist forces in Sherborne Castle, and afterwards, on joining the Earl of Essex on the eve of the battle of Edgehill, he accepted, under that general, the command of the _corps de reserve_. His conduct in the action gained him great distinction, as it was supposed to be owing to his skill and courage that the defeat of the Parliamentarians was averted, ‘for Lord Bedford brought up very gallantly amidst a play of cannon.’ He was ever ready to propose and to facilitate every means of pacification between Charles and his people, but all these endeavours proving fruitless, and finding himself in opposition to the _ultra_ opinions and measures of the Roundheads, he, with some other Lords, determined on joining the King at Oxford. One of his biographers says, the Earl of Bedford came to Oxford, had his introduction, made a declaration of the motives which had actuated his past conduct, and received a formal pardon under the Great Seal. The King was naturally inclined to welcome so noble an adherent, but was rather lukewarm in his manner, while the Queen and the greater part of the courtiers treated him with much discourtesy. He fought with the Royalists at the siege of Gloucester and the battle of Newbury, where the gallant Falkland was killed. The Parliament, infuriated at Lord Bedford’s secession, sequestrated his estates; but this sentence was reversed shortly after the battle of Marston Moor in 1644. The next year Lord Bedford, with Lord Carlisle and four other Peers, who had come from the King’s quarters, went to the House of Parliament and took the Covenant before the Commissioners of the Great Seal; this being the only compliance made by Lord Bedford with the faction he had abandoned. He now retired from public life, absented himself from Parliament, and sought that quiet and domestic peace in the bosom of his family, for which it may be well imagined he had often sighed amid the turmoil and strife of political and military life. He repaired to his home at Woburn Abbey, where, between the years 1645 and 1647, his royal master visited him on three separate occasions. After the execution of the King, and during the vicissitudes of the Commonwealth and the Protectorate, Lord Bedford continued to live in seclusion, and it was not until the Restoration (to which event he contributed, as far as in him lay, both by his influence and his aid in pecuniary matters) that he reappeared in public. How ill was he repaid by an ungrateful and cruel King! Lord Bedford carried St. Edward’s sceptre at the coronation of Charles the Second, and some time after received the Blue Ribbon of the Garter. He belonged to a large number of loyal spirits, who, after assisting and rejoicing in the return of the lawful Sovereign, experienced the most bitter disappointment at the tyrannical and unconstitutional course pursued by Charles, and following in the steps of his father, stood up manfully against the encroachments on civil and religious liberty; conduct which was supported and nobly carried out in the House of Commons by his son William, Lord Russell, whose union with Lady Vaughan about 1669 (better known to history as Rachel, Lady Russell) was a source of unalloyed satisfaction to Lord and Lady Bedford, to whom she became a tender and devoted daughter. In the life of William, Lord Russell, we have given full details of his political career, of the animosity his independent line of conduct aroused in the minds of the King and the Duke of York, of his arrest on the false pretence of being implicated in the Rye House Plot, of his unjust trial and hurried execution, particulars of which it would be superfluous to repeat here. Lady Russell spent the early days of her widowhood, and indeed the greater part of her subsequent life, at Woburn, with her father-in-law, affording and imparting sympathy. Lord Russell’s execution took place in July 1683, and within a year his fond mother followed him to the grave. Since the death of that beloved son, Lady Bedford’s health had gradually declined; she pined away silently, almost imperceptibly; but there is little doubt her death was accelerated by a strange and unforeseen incident. She was sitting one day in the gallery at Woburn, when her attention was attracted by a pamphlet which contained the whole history of her mother’s life, her marriage and divorce from Lord Essex, and the tragedy connected with the murder of Sir Thomas Overbury, together with the complicity of both parents—the mother, whose memory she knew no reason to despise, the father whom she fondly believed she had every reason to adore. The next person who entered the room found the unhappy woman senseless on the floor, the fatal book beside her. It appears from some letters of her daughter-in-law at the time, that the family not only believed that this sad incident had hastened her death, but that if her life had been spared, her reason would have been endangered.

The remainder of Lord Bedford’s life is so intimately bound up with that of his daughter-in-law and her children, that we must refer the reader to our notice of Lady Russell for further particulars, even the passage in which we have given the account of the creation of the Dukedom, which honour was doubly acceptable to the aged Duke, as a tribute to the memory of his lamented son. His love for his grandchildren, and the tender letters he writes to their mother on their account, his delight in the society of Mistress Katey, his little playfellow of nine years old, when he was past eighty, all vouch for the gentleness of heart which characterised the first Duke of Bedford. He had lived to see his son’s memory vindicated, his son’s widow honoured and sought after by every class in the kingdom, beginning with the Sovereigns, William and Mary; the attainder reversed, his grandchildren prosperous, his grandson and heir married with his sanction and approbation, and the family name, in which he had a right to glory, respected through the kingdom. He was ready to depart, and ‘now his daily prayer was to the effect that the God in whom he had so humbly and faithfully trusted would grant him an easy passage to the tomb.’ And never did any person leave this world with greater inward peace, or with less struggle and discomposure; his lamp of life was not blown out: the oil wasted by degrees, nature was spent, and he fell asleep on the 7th September 1700, aged eighty-seven. He was buried at Chenies by the side of his beloved wife.

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No. 17. SIR THOMAS MYDDLETON, BART., OF CHIRK.

_Brown dress. Purple sleeves. Lace cravat. Long hair._

DIED 1683.

BY RUSSELL.

HE was the son of Sir Thomas Myddleton, first Baronet, who began his military career as a Parliamentarian, afterwards became a zealous adherent of the Royal cause, and was created a Baronet in 1660. The subject of the present notice married, first, Elizabeth, daughter and co-heir of Sir Thomas Wilbraham of Woodney; and, secondly, Charlotte, daughter of Sir Orlando Bridgeman, Bart.; and had an only daughter, Charlotte, married first to Edward, Earl of Warwick, and secondly to the Right Hon. Joseph Addison.

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No. 18. THE HONOURABLE FRANCIS RUSSELL.

_In armour. Long fair hair._

DIED 1641.

BY REMÉE.

HE was the second son of Francis, fourth Earl of Bedford, by Catherine Brydges. He married Catherine, daughter of Lord Grey de Wark, and widow of Sir Edward Moseley, Bart., and of the Lord North and Gray, by whom he had no children. Francis Russell died in France shortly before his father. He was brother to the first Countess of Bradford, of the Newport family.

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BREAKFAST-ROOM.

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BREAKFAST-ROOM.

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No. 1. PRINCE MAURICE.

_As a boy. In the character of Cupid._

BORN 1620, DIED 1653.

BY HONTHORST.

HE was the fourth son of Frederic, Elector Palatine (King of Bohemia), by Elizabeth, Princess of England, daughter of James the First. After the battle of Prague, which wrecked their fortunes, the unhappy ex-King and Queen were driven from their palace at Prague, compelled to fly for their lives by unfrequented roads, and through the blinding snowstorms, which impeded the progress of their coach, and from which the fugitives were obliged to alight, and take horse.

Elizabeth displayed the utmost courage and fortitude, despite the intensity of the weather and the delicacy of her health, and mounted gladly on a pillion behind a young English volunteer of the name of Hopton, who would often speak in after-days with love and veneration of his royal fellow-traveller, the Queen of Hearts, the only sovereignty that was now left her. In their distress the unhappy pair sought about for some place of shelter where Elizabeth might be cared for in her hour of approaching trial and her husband appealed to his brother-in-law, George William of Brandenburg, for the loan of one of his castles, either of Spandau or Custrine. The answer was a grudging permission to inhabit the latter residence, although the owner assured Frederic it was no place for a Queen just fresh from a palace; that it was not commodious or safe from the incursions of their enemies; and, moreover, they would be exposed to cold and famine, as there was no fuel and no food. The fugitives found this account but too true, and even this surly permission would have been withheld but for the intercession of the British Envoy, Wotton. Moreover, their parsimonious host bargained with his needy relatives to defray all expenses, but Elizabeth’s condition allowed of no alternative. Three days after their arrival Prince Maurice was born in this dreary old barrack, with its bare walls and unfurnished interior—a strange contrast to the scene of splendour and festivity which characterised the birth of his brother Rupert. Before the proper time had elapsed that it was advisable for her to travel, the ex-Queen was hurried away, accompanied by little Rupert, to Wolfenbüttel, and afterwards to the Hague, where she found a generous protector and devoted friend in the Stadtholder; the new-born infant being despatched to the care of his widowed grandmother, the Electress Juliana, in Polish Russia. Poor child! he had not the traditional good fortune of one born on Christmas Day. From his earliest childhood he bore his brother Rupert the most devoted affection, and through their lives they were brothers in very truth—brothers in arms and affection; their paths strangely intertwined for soldiers of fortune; they were both prematurely brave, and early initiated into the profession they so much adorned. When together at the siege of Breda, Maurice, waking in the night, heard a noise for which he could not account, so he roused Rupert, and they crept out together in the dark, and were just in time to save the garrison from a surprise. In 1638 Prince Maurice prosecuted his studies at a French University, and in 1642 gained permission to accompany Rupert, who had been appointed to a high command in the army of their uncle, Charles the First. This gallant pair vied with each other in loyalty and devotion to the English King. Their bravery, their exploits, the various commands they filled, the numerous actions in which they fought (frequently side by side), all these incidents belong to the chronicles of the civil wars of the period. In 1646 the brothers left England, Prince Rupert proceeding to St. Germain to join the Queen-mother there in exile, while Prince Maurice embarked for Holland. The subsequent life of this Prince appears to have been almost entirely passed on the decks of the varied vessels which he in turn commanded, for both he and Rupert secured glory and renown on the broad ocean, as they had already done in the battlefield, and their voyages were frequently made in company. In the notice of the elder, we have given the account of a touching episode in the lives of the two brothers, which we therefore omit here. But Maurice was doomed to find a watery grave in the year 1653, in a hurricane which overtook his vessel off the Virgin Islands. The following is a description of the tragic event: ‘In this fatal wreck, besides many great gentlemen and others, the sea, to glut itself, swallowed the Prince, whose fame the mouth of detraction cannot blast. His very enemies bewailed his loss. Many had more power, few more merit; he lived beloved, and died bewailed.’ Two years after his death there was a rumour that he still lived (but the false report soon died away), that he had been captured by a pirate, and was a slave in Africa, but this unlikely tale gained little or no credence.

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No. 8. COLONEL WEST.

_Black cloak over doublet of same colour. Left hand gloved with white
glove and holding the other. Large white cuffs turned back. Hand
resting on hip. White deep turned-down collar with tassels._

BY WALKER.

HE was a distinguished Parliamentarian officer, and much valued by Cromwell. He was engaged in Inverkeithing fight in 1651, and was commended in Oliver Cromwell’s letter to the Speaker of the Parliament of England, reporting the result of that engagement, which he described as an ‘unspeakable mercy.’

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No. 16. THOMAS WRIOTHESLEY, EARL OF SOUTHAMPTON.

_Robes of the Garter. Wand of office._

DIED 1667.

BY SIR PETER LELY.

HE was the second born but only surviving son of the third Earl, by Elizabeth, daughter of John Vernon of Hodnet, County Salop. Educated at Eton and Oxford, where he distinguished himself, and afterwards travelled abroad; remained some time in France, where he probably espoused his first wife, and afterwards proceeded to the Low Countries. His father and elder brother had also gone thither, and were attacked by fever. The youth died, and his father (travelling before it was prudent for him to do so), borne down by sorrow, soon followed his beloved child to the grave. Thomas, who had now become Earl of Southampton, found on his return to England that public affairs were in great confusion. The Parliamentarians did all in their power to gain over the young nobleman to their side, but he disapproved of their proceedings, and would take no part in them. He was soon after appointed Privy Councillor and Lord of the Bedchamber to the King, and became henceforth, in every sense of the word, attached to the royal person, to whom he was an excellent friend, often giving him unpalatable advice. He used to sleep in the King’s apartment, and to the best of his power soothed his hours of mental anguish. In 1647, when the unhappy monarch fled from Hampton Court, he took shelter at Titchfield, in Hampshire, Lord Southampton’s country-house, and when brought back to the palace in the hands of his enemies, his first request was for the attendance of his trusty friend. This permission was granted him, and Southampton was one of the last allowed to remain with his royal master, and one of the four mourners who paid the last sad duties to his remains. With Charles the Second he kept up a continued correspondence, and supplied the exile with large sums, hastening to meet him on his arrival in England, when he was rewarded by being made Knight of the Garter, as were other faithful adherents to the Crown, and was shortly afterwards appointed Lord High Treasurer. In this capacity he showed so much independence of spirit and interest in the public welfare as to offend the King, who did not, however, remove him from his office, which was exercised by Southampton, although suffering from a terrible and painful disease which made business occasionally irksome to him. To his credit be it spoken, that during seven years’ management of the Treasury he made but an ordinary fortune, disdaining to sell places, as many of his predecessors had done.

The Earl of Southampton was thrice married: first, to Rachel, daughter of Daniel de Ruvigny, in France, by whom he had two sons, who died young, and three daughters, the second of whom was Rachel, the faithful wife and widow of the patriot, William, Lord Russell; his second Countess was Elizabeth, daughter and co-heir of Francis Booth, Lord Dunsmore, by whom he had four girls; and his third wife was the daughter of William, second Duke of Somerset, and widow of Viscount Molyneux. He died at Southampton House, in Bloomsbury, which he bequeathed to his daughter, Lady Russell, and was buried at Titchfield. By his death the title of Southampton in the Wriothesley family became extinct.

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No. 28. COLONEL, AFTERWARDS LORD GORING.

_Slashed doublet. Long fair hair._

DIED 1662 _v.p._

BY STONE AFTER VANDYCK.

SIR George Goring of Hurstpierpoint, County Sussex, was created in 1629 Baron Goring, and in 1645 Earl of Norwich. He married Mary, daughter of Edward Neville, Lord Abergavenny. Their third eldest son was George, the subject of this notice, who distinguished himself greatly in the civil wars. He married in early life Lady Lettice Boyle, daughter of the Earl of Cork. He was wild, eccentric, and extravagant, and Lord Wentworth (afterwards Earl of Strafford), speaking of him in a letter to Lord Carlisle, 1633, says: ‘Young Mr. Goring is gone to travel, having run himself out of £8000, which he purposes to redeem by frugality abroad, unless my Lord Cork can be induced to put to his helping hand, which I have undertaken to solicit for him the best I can, and shall do it with all the power and care my credit and wit shall in any way suggest unto me.’ The noble writer was successful in his negotiation, and Lord Cork was most generous and liberal on this and several other occasions to a son-in-law who gave him much trouble. Not long after the marriage Lord Cork thus writes, in speaking of George Goring: ‘After borrowing money from me for himself and his father, he departed from us without once taking leave of me, and leaving his wife and servants, posted through Scotland on to England on the choice gray gelding I bestowed upon him called Gray Brown, hath much disquieted me, his wife, and friends.’ His poor wife had good reason to be disquieted on this and many other occasions, but she seems to have retained a real affection for her unworthy husband, willing to join him at any summons, and frequently interceding with her generous father for so-called loans and large sums, which never appear to have been repaid.

George Goring, on his arrival in the Low Countries, enlisted as a soldier, entered Lord Vere’s regiment, and soon gained a high command, distinguishing himself at the siege of Breda. On his return to England he was made Governor of Portsmouth, in which capacity he got into trouble with the Parliament, and was summoned before the House of Commons on suspicion of favouring the Royal cause. Anxious to provide for his own interests by pleasing both sides, he contrived to give satisfaction to the Parliament, and was therefore exonerated. Goring was indeed anything but straightforward in his dealings; Lord Clarendon says of him: ‘He could help himself with all the intimation of doubt, or fear, or shame, or simplicity in his face that might gain belief to a greater degree than I ever saw in any man, and could seem most confounded when he was best resolved, and to want words when they flowed from no man with greater power.’ He cajoled the popular party, corresponded secretly with the King in 1642, threw off the mask he had worn as adherent to the Parliament, and declared openly that he held Portsmouth for Charles the First. The town was besieged by sea and land, and surrendered after a meagre defence; Goring stipulating that he might be allowed to transport himself beyond the seas, which caused great astonishment, as also did his appointment (on his return in 1644) to the command of cavalry in the Royal army in Lincolnshire. He now continued to distinguish himself greatly in the service of the King, and was present in almost every action. In 1646, his father being created Earl of Norwich, he became Lord Goring, and held the commission of Lieutenant-General of several counties, in which capacity he did little good, setting a bad example to the troops by his irregular and immoral conduct. Clarendon says of him that he had a good understanding, a sharp wit, and keen courage, but he did not value his promise or friendship according to any rules of honour or integrity. ‘He loved no man so well but he would cozen him and expose him to ridicule.’ The same historian speaks of Goring’s immoderate ambition, dissimulation, and want of religion. He continued his vacillating line of conduct, and when in difficulties pleaded illness, and gained permission to go to Bath for a cure, but returned to active service, became a Privy Councillor, and had undeserved favours showered upon him by the King. His whole career was marked by contrasts of success and failure, courage and blundering, and animosity towards those who like Prince Rupert filled a high position, and stood well in the opinion of others. After many vicissitudes he resolved to leave England, and proceeded to the Netherlands, where he became Lieutenant-General of the Spanish army, and afterwards obtained the same command in Spain under Don John de Silva, who, finding that he was in communication with Cardinal Mazarin, had him seized at the head of his troops, and sent prisoner to Madrid. Writers differ as to the termination of this eccentric man’s career. Some say he was put to death in prison for treason, and others that he entered a monastery and died in the habit of a Dominican friar.

Lord Goring had no children. Dying in the lifetime of his father, Lord Norwich was succeeded by his second son, Charles, who married Alice, daughter of Robert Leman, Esq., and widow of Sir Richard Baker, Knight, but having no children the titles of Norwich and Goring became extinct.

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No. 30. PRINCE RUPERT.

_In a classical dress, as Mars._

BORN 1619, DIED 1682.

BY HONTHORST.

HE was the third son of Frederic, Elector Palatine, and King of Bohemia, by Princess Elizabeth of England, daughter of James the First. Born at Prague during the short-lived period of his parents’ prosperity, while inhabiting the Palace of the Bohemian capital. More than half a century had elapsed since the birth of a royal Prince at Prague, and the event was the occasion of great excitement and rejoicing. Persons of all classes were invited to have a glimpse of the royal infant, swathed in rich wrappings of gold and embroidery. Nobles and ladies, burghers and their wives, officers of state, soldiers, peasants, all flocked to the Palace, and clustered round the cradle of the future hero. His father thought well to name him Rupert, after the wise and fortunate Elector who, on the death of Wenceslaus, ascended the Imperial throne: and the ceremony of baptism was conducted on a scale of great magnificence, which helped not a little to drain the ill-filled coffers of Frederic and Elizabeth. On the other hand, donations of all kinds poured in from the nobles, the burghers, and their respective wives. Contributions of fruit and flowers were presented by the poorer population, offerings which were most graciously received by the gentle-hearted mother.

Her two elder sons were respectively heirs to titles (alas! how empty) of King, and Elector Palatine. The Bohemian Ministry, willing to do honour to a Prince born ‘in their midst,’ bestowed on the new-born babe the dignity of Duke of Lithuania, which the child did not long enjoy, seeing that a few months after his birth the decisive battle of Prague was the means of driving his parents from their newly-acquired kingdom, penniless and homeless wanderers, compelled to solicit shelter and assistance from cold relatives and fickle friends.

Rupert was the only one of her children who accompanied Elizabeth on her miserable flight from Custrin to Holland (a circumstance to which we have alluded in the sketch of his brother Maurice), where the ex-Queen with her family resided for many years, and where five children were born to her. Little Rupert was sent to the College at Leyden, where his eldest brother Henry was a student, and had already distinguished himself greatly. Amongst other accomplishments, Henry was an elegant letter-writer, and kept up a frequent correspondence with his mother. In one of his letters he tells how ‘dear Rupert is a most lively boy,’ and amused the students when he first arrived by speaking to them in Bohemian.

A soldier at heart from his earliest childhood, Rupert did not remain long at Leyden, but entered the army under Henry Frederic of Nassau, and (Lodge tells us) was present at the siege of Thynberg, although another biographer places the date of his first action several years later. Be this as it may, in 1637 he marched with his brother, Charles Louis, who now called himself Elector Palatine (their father being dead), against the Imperialists. The gallant Lord Craven had constituted himself the guardian of ‘the Palatine Princes,’ and accompanied them in the expedition, writing frequently to their mother at the Hague, to give tidings of Charles and the beloved Rupert. Lord Craven had warmly espoused the cause of Frederic, and was now the devoted friend of the royal widow and her family. He and his two charges distinguished themselves during the siege of Lippe, but being worsted in an encounter with General Hatzfeldt, Charles Louis had a narrow escape of his life. He crossed the river in his coach, and, clinging to the shrubs and underwood, climbed up on the precipitous bank of the opposite shore, and made his way to Holland. His brother and Lord Craven were both taken prisoners by the Imperialists, and carried to Vienna, where they were lodged in the castle. With much difficulty Rupert found means to have a few lines conveyed to his mother, wherein, after some tender expressions of filial love and respect, he assured her that no power on earth should induce him to renounce his party, or abjure his faith. Lord Craven succeeded in regaining his freedom, by paying the large ransom of £20,000; but all attempts to procure the deliverance of Rupert proved unavailing. It was only at the expiration of three years, and on condition that he would undertake never again to bear arms against the Emperor, that the young Prince was set at liberty, shortly after which event he received an offer from his uncle, Charles the First, of the command of the cavalry in the Royal army, the King having unfurled his standard against the Parliamentarians. He was accompanied by his brother Maurice, whose love and admiration for his elder were unbounded; and the exploits of these gallant Princes in the service of their royal uncle, are they not written in the books of the chronicles of the civil wars of England?

After the execution of Charles the First Rupert received a new commission from Charles the Second, and continued to distinguish himself by sea and land; went to Portugal, the Mediterranean, the French coast, Madeira, the Azores, etc. etc.; encountered all kinds of dangers and vicissitudes, reverses and successes. A more chequered life is scarcely on record than that of Prince Rupert.

Our space is too limited to admit of any lengthened details of his adventures, ‘moving accidents by flood and field,’ and of all his ‘hair-breadth ‘scapes’; but one passage in his life is too full of romantic interest, and so characteristic of the fraternal affection of the Palatine Princes, to be passed over in silence. Captain Fearnes, who commanded the fine ship _The Admiral_, gives a noble and touching description of the incidents connected with the wreck of his vessel. One of the most disastrous tempests ever recorded in a seaman’s log overtook the English fleet, then cruising among the Western Islands, and after every endeavour had been made to save the ship without a chance of success, Captain Fearnes, who survived the wreck, gives the following report: ‘It was resolved that the ship must be our grave, and every man very well resolved to die, and the minister told us that as many as would receive the Sacrament he would administer it, and desired that we would give him notice, when we saw we were past all hope, to come to the place appointed, there to receive it, and die all together.’