Some remarkable circumstances attended the earl's decease. It had been foretold by his tutor, Sandford, and afterwards by the mad prophetess, Lady Davies, that he would either not complete, or would die on the anniversary of, his fiftieth birthday. That these predictions were actually fulfilled, appears by the following curious passage in Clarendon's Rebellion. "A short story may not be unfitly inserted; it being frequently mentioned by a person of known integrity, whose character is here undertaken to be set down, who at that time being on his way to London, met, at Maidenhead, some persons of quality, of relation or dependence upon the Earl of Pembroke, Sir Charles Morgan, commonly called General Morgan, who had commanded an army in Germany, and defended Stoad; Dr. Feild, then Bishop of St. David's; and Dr. Chafin, the earl's then chaplain in his house, and much in his favour. At supper, one of them drank a health to the lord steward; upon which another of them said, that he believed his lord was at that time very merry, for he had now outlived the day which his tutor, Sandford, had prognosticated, upon his nativity, he would not outlive; but he had done it now, for that was his birthday, which had completed his age to fifty years. The next morning, by the time they came to Colebrook, they met with

the news of his death."

On the fatal day, the earl had engaged himself to sup with the Countess of Bedford. During the meal, he appeared unusually well, and remarked that he would never trust a woman's prophecy again. A few hours afterwards, he was attacked by apoplexy, and died during the night. Granger, to make the story more remarkable, relates that when the earl's body was opened, in order to be embalmed, the incision was no sooner made, than the corpse lifted its hand. The anecdote, he adds, was told by the Pembroke family, who had often heard it related. The earl died at his house in London, called Baynard's Castle, on the 10th of April,

a

descendant of

1630,* and was buried near his father in Salisbury Cathedral.

The portrait of Earl William has been painted by Vandyke, and his character drawn by Lord Clarendon. The latter should be his epitaph: it is one of the most beautiful delineations of that illustrious historian.

PHILIP HERBERT,

EARL OF PEMBROKE AND MONTGOMERY.

The " memorable simpleton" of Walpole, who dimmed the lustre of a proud name by his cow. ardice, arrogance, and folly. Were we to believe but one half that has been said against him, his character would appear sufficiently odious. A

* Ath. Oxon. vol. i. p. 546; Collins's Peerage, vol. iii. p. 123. As the earl was born on the eighth of April, 1580, unless the dates are wrongly given, this discrepancy would tend to throw some doubt on

Lord Clarendon's remarkable anecdote.

favourite and a rebel can have no friends, and Montgomery, who was both, has had no ad

mirers.

The earl was the second son of the celebrated Mary, Countess of Pembroke, nephew of Sir Philip Sidney, and younger brother of Earl William. He was born about the year 1582.

of the times, can scarcely need a comment :"There was no small loss that night of chains and jewels, and many great ladies were made shorter by the skirts, and were very well served that they could keep cut no better. The presents of plate and other things given by the noblemen were valued at 2,500/.; but that which made it a good marriage was a gift of the king's, of 500%. land, for the bride's jointure. They were lodged in the council chamber, where the king, in his shirt and night-gown, gave them a reveille matin before they were up, and spent a good time lieve. No ceremony was omitted of bride-cakes, points, garters, and gloves, which have been ever since the livery of the court; and at night there was sewing into the sheet, casting off the bride's left hose, and many other petty sorceries." By Lady Susan the earl had several children, who outlived him.

He was the first acknowledged favourite of King James, after his accession to the English throne. His handsome face, his love of dogs and horses, and especially his taste for hunting, rendered him peculiarly acceptable to that monarch. His influence remained unimpaired till the ap- in or upon the bed; chuse which you will be

pearance of Robert Carr at court, an event which quickly turned the current of royal favour. However, as Montgomery neither remonstrated with James, nor showed any bitterness at his altered position, the king, who, above all things loved his ease and quiet, so far appreciated his forbearance, as to regard him ever after as his second favourite, whoever might chance to be the first. On his death-bed James gave the greatest proof of his confidence in the earl. When the suspicion broke on the dying monarch, that Buckingham and his mother were tampering with his life, it was to Montgomery that he exclaimed trustingly, "For God's sake look that I have fair play!"

The earl had received his education at New College, Oxford. On the 4th of June, 1605, he was created Earl of Montgomery, and on the 10th of May, 1608, was made a Knight of the Garte The favours which he obtained from James, were not substantial, for during this reign he rose no higher than to be a lord of the bed-chamber. In the reign of Charles the First, however, he became lord chamberlain, and, to the disgrace of the University, Chancellor of Oxford. He succeeded his brother as Earl of Pembroke, 10th April, 1630.

Lord Clarendon says of Montgomery, "there were very few great persons in authority, who were not frequently offended by him by sharp and scandalous discourses, and invectives against them, behind their backs; for which they found it best to receive satisfaction by submissions, and professions, and protestations, which was a coin he was plentifully supplied with for the payment of all those debts." The fact is, he was one of the most brutal, cowardly, and choleric persons that ever disgraced a court. He appears to have been constantly engaged in some unbecoming quarrel. In 1610, a dispute with the Earl of Southampton proceeded to such lengths, that the rackets flew about each other's ears, though the king eventually made up the matter without bloodshed. After he had become lord chamberlain, Anthony Wood observes quaintly, that he broke many wiser heads than his own. This remark refers principally to his unjustifiable attack upon May, the translator of Lucan. The poet, (who was also a gentleman of some consideration in his time,) while a mask was being performed in the Banqueting House at Whitehall, happening to push accidentally against the chamberlain, the latter instantly lifted his staff, and broke it over May's shoulders. Wood says, that had it not been for the earl's office, and the place they were

His first appearance at court had been in the lifetime of Elizabeth, where, though a mere boy at the time, he appears to have rendered himself conspicuous for that want of modesty, which afterwards formed so prominent a trait in his character, and became so distasteful to his contemporaries. Rowland White, in a letter dated 26th April, 1600, thus writes to Sir Philip Sidney :"Mr. Philip Herbert is here (at court), and one in, "it might have been a question whether the of the forwardest courtiers that ever I saw in my time; for he had not been here two hours. but he grew as bold as the best. Upon Thursday he goes back again, full sore against his will." He seems to have shared the success of his brother in the tournaments and other sports of the period. We find,

The Herberts every cockpit-day,
Do carry away

The gold and glory of the day.

He was privately contracted in October, 1604, without the knowledge of the friends of either party. to Lady Susan Vere, daughter of Edward, 17th Earl of Oxford. The family of the young lady exhibited some aversion to the match, but the king interposed and softened their prejudices. On St. John's Day, 1604, they were married with great magnificence at Whitehall. The bride was led to church by Prince Henry and the Duke of Holstein, and the king himself gave her away. She looked so lovely in her tresses and jewels, that the king observed, "were he unmarried, he would keep her himself." After the ceremony there was a splendid banquet, succeeded by as gorgeous a mask. The following picture of the entertainments, as well as of the manners

earl would ever have struck again." An account of the fracas is related by Mr. Garrard in one of his gossiping letters to the Earl of Strafford, dated 27th February, 1633: "Mr. May of Gray's Inn, a fine poet, he who translated Lucan, came athwart my lord chamberlain in the Banqueting House, who broke his staff over his shoulders, not knowing who he was, the king present, who knew him, for he calls him his poet, and told the chamberlain of it, who sent for him the next morning, and fairly excused himself to him, and gave him fifty pounds in pieces: I believe he was thus indulgent for the name's sake." At the time of his well-known quarrel with Lord Mowbray, which took place in the House of Lords in 1641, he must have been nearly in his sixtieth year. Lord Clarendon says, that "from angry and disdainful words, an offer or attempt at blows was made." Probably a blow was really struck, for it is certain that Mowbray threw an inkstand at the thick head of his antagonist. They were both sent to the Tower by order of the lords, and Montgomery was in consequence deprived by the king of his post of chamberlain.

Early in life, Montgomery had himself received a lesson, which should have deterred him from assaulting others. In 1607, he had been

8

L

publicly horse-whipped, on the race-course at
Croydon, by Ramsey, a Scottish gentleman, af-
terwards created Earl of Holderness. This was
the same Ramsey from whose hands, some years
previously, the young Earl of Gowrie had met
his death. The affray caused so much excite. by a subject: your man sha'n't stand.

he applied to her to nominate a member for the
borough of Appleby:

" I have been bullied by a usurper, I have been

ment at the time, that the English assembled together, resolving to make it a national quarrel: but Montgomery not offering to strike again, "nothing," says Osborne, "was spilt but the reputation of a gentleman; in lieu of which, if I am not mistaken, the king made him a knight, a baron, a viscount, and an earl in one day." Fortunately the truth of this story does not rest upon Osborne's statement, for, as the earl was never a viscount, and as he was knighted in 1604, and made an earl in 1605, long previous to this disgraceful affray, we might have been inclined to discredit the whole account, had it not been confidently related by other authors. Butler, in one of his amusing burlesques of the earl's parliamentary speeches, makes him, at a later period of his life, thus allude to the disgrace of his youth. "For my part, I'll have nothing to do with them. I cannot abide a Scot, for a Scot switched me once, and cracked my crown with my own staff, the virge of my lord chamberlainship, and now they are all coming to switch you too."

It is reported of Montgomery that he was so illiterate that he could scarcely write his own name, and yet he constantly gave his opinion on matters of taste, and insulted genius by patronising it. We must remember, however, that to be a patron of literature was formerly a requisite ingredient in the fashionable world. The titled coxcomb sauntered into his levee, at which the wretched author presented his work, and for a false and fulsome panegyric received a donation of a few pounds: the latter obtained a dinner, and the former a character for taste and benevolence.

as

Such is the degree of credit which we may fairly allow to Montgomery, of which Osborne says, that "he was only fit for his own society, and such books as were dedicated to him." Heminge and Condell, however, dedicated to Montgomery, and to his brother Earl William, the first folio edition of Shakspeare's plays: speaking of them "the most noble and incomparable pair of brothers, who, having prosecuted these trifles, and their author living with so much favour, would use a like indulgence towards them which they had done unto their parent," This is such high praise, and so dear to an Englishman is any thing connected with the name of Shakspeare, that we should be inclined to forgive many faults in a friend and patron of the immortal dramatist. Some importance, however, must be attached to the earl's well-known character for vanity, and very little indeed to the suspicious encomiums of

a dedication.

Montgomery was twice married. In 1630, after the death of his first wife Lady Susan Vere, he united himself to Anne, widow of Richard Sackville, Earl of Dorset, and heiress of the Cliffords, Earls of Cumberland. Under what circumstances this religious, munificent, and highspirited lady, united herself to an absurd and profligate bully, we are not informed. It is certain, however, that their marriage was not a happy one; and as the earl became more profligate with increase of years, she was eventually compelled to insist on a separation. The countess, who survived him many years, is probably best known by her famous letter to Sir Joseph Williamson, secretary of state to Charles II. when

neglected by

a court, but I will not be dictated to RY."

"ANN DORSET, "PEMBROKE AND MONTGOMERY."

Had Montgomery contented himself with being a profligate, a gambler, a fool, or a coward; had he been satisfied with tyrannising over his wife, or with cudgeling, or being cudgeled, he would have avoided in a great degree the contempt and obloquy with which his name has been burdened. But when we find him turning rebel, and becoming an ungrateful apostate to the prince who had raised him, words are scarcely sufficient to express our indignation and contempt. In 1649, though a peer of England, he sat as a member, for Berkshire, in the republican House of Commons, and was subsequently one of the council of state after the beheading of King Charles. Butler celebrates the earl's apostacy with his usual humour.

"Pembroke's a covenanting lord,

That ne'er with God or man kept word;
One day he'd swear he'd serve the king,
The next 'twas quite another thing;
Still changing with the wind and tide,
That he might keep the stronger side;
His hawks and hounds were all his care,
For them he made his daily care,
And scarce would lose a hunting season,
Even for the sake of darling treason.
Had you but heard what thunderclaps,
Broke out of his and Oldsworth's chaps,
Of oaths and horrid execration,

Oft with, but oftener without passion,
You'd think these senators were sent

From hell to sit in parliament."

This Goth was actually selected by the parliament to reform the University of Oxford. The speech which he made to the senate of the university on this occasion, was admirably ridiculed in a pasquinade of the period, of which we cannot refrain from giving an extract. It is just the sort of composition which one would have expected from so silly a man, while it particularly reflects on an inveterate habit of swearing, which is known to have formed another offensive trait in his character.

"My Visitors,

"I am glad to see this day; I hope it will never end, for I am your chancellor. Some say I am not your chancellor, but dam me, they lye, for my brother was so before me, and none but rascals would rob me of my birthright. They think the Marquis of Hertford is Chancellor of Oxford, because, forsooth, the university chose him. 'Sdeath, I set here by ordinance of Parliament, and judge ye, gentlemen, whether he or I look like a chancellor. I'll prove he is a party, for he himself is a scholar; he has Greek and Latin, but all the world knows I can scarce write or read; dam me, this writing and reading has caused all this blood. I thank God, and I thank you; I thank God I am come at last, and I thank you for giving me a gilded bible; you could not give me a better book, dam me, I think so: I love the bible, though I seldom use it; I say I love it, and a man's affection is the best member about him; I can love it though I cannot read it, as you, Dr. Wilkinson, love preaching, though you never preach."

If this extract be not sufficient, the reader may turn to the posthumous works of Samuel Butler,

the author of Hudibras, who has made himself very merry with the earl's fantastic oratory. Indeed, so absurd were his speeches, both in the House of Lords and elsewhere, that they became a common joke at the period, and agreeably employed the wits in turning them into lampoons and ridicule.

Instead of reforming others, the time was approaching when the earl might, with more propriety, have thought of reforming himself. He died on the 23d of January, 1650; not quite a year after the master whom he had deserted. He is said to have indulged in a pursuit almost as ridiculous as himself: he collected a vast number of portraits with a view to the study of physiognomy, in which he is stated to have made so great a proficiency, that James, placing an absurd faith in his discrimination, was believed to have employed him to discover the characters of foreign ambassadors on their first appearance at court.

In a scarce lampoon of the period, the following lines are recommended for Montgomery's epitaph:

"Here lies the mirror of our age for treason,
Who, in his life, was void of sense and reason,
The Commons' fool, a knave in every thing;
A traitor to his master, lord, and king:
A man whose virtues were to whore and swear,
God damn him was his constant daily prayer."

JAMES HAY,

EARL OF CARLISLE.

This magnificent personage, who shared so largely both the royal favour and the public purse, was the son of a private gentleman in Scotland. He was educated in France, and is said to have belonged to the famous Scottish guard, which was formerly maintained by the French monarch. At the accession of James he hastened over to

England, trusting that his showy person and foreign accomplishments would obtain for him those substantial favours, which most of his countrymen expected, and many obtained. He is said to have been introduced to James by the French

ambassador.

His rise was rapid, and not altogether undeserved. The elegance of his manners, his taste for dress and splendour, and a natural sweetness of temper, quickly rendered him a favourite as well with the king as with his courtiers. Few have had wealth and honours more quickly showered upon them; and, with the exception of profuse expenditure, few have borne the smiles of fortune with more modesty and discretion. He shunned politics, which would have made him enemies; and, by his unaffected courtesy and extensive hospitality, obtained the good will of those who might otherwise have been his rivals. Though positive talent must be denied him, he possessed a strong sense and natural tact, which to a courtier are far more valuable than genius itself. He understood the king's character more thoroughly than any other man, and had sufficient shrewdness to perform, at least with credit, the various embassies with which he was afterwards entrusted. Wilson says of him: "He was a gentleman every way complete. His bounty was adorned with courtesy not affected, but resulting from a natural civility in him. His humbleness set him below the envy of most, and his bounty brought him into esteem with many."

afterwards refused to aid them with his purse: nothing, he said, should induce him to give his daughter to "a beggarly Scot," or supply them with a groat. They were married in the presence of the king. The bridegroom shortly afterwards obtained the release of his father-in-law from prison, but even then it was with the greatest difficulty that the independent old eari could be induced to consent to a meeting.

After the death of James the First, we know little of the history of his gorgeous favourite. That he was not, however, entirely overlooked, is evident from his having been made first gentleman of the bed-chamber to Charles the First, in 1633.* He died on the 25th of April, 1636, the ruling passion of his life still strong even in death. When the most able physicians," says Osborne, "and his own weakness had passed a judgment that he could not live many days, he did not forbear his entertainments, but made divers brave clothes, as he said, to outface naked and despicable death withal." The workings of the huinan mind are often fantastic and bewildering; but how strange must have been the conceptions of that man, who, in such a moment, could connect velvets and embroideries with skeletons and the grave! The progress of the earl's last illness is more than once referred to by Garrard, in his letters to Lord Strafford. On the 15th of March

he writes, "Sunday night last, the 13th of this month, my lord of Čarlisle was dying, his speech gone, his eyes dark: he knew none about him, but in two or three hours he came out of this trance, and came to his senses again. Now he thinks he shall die, which before he did not, and is well prepared for it, having assistance from the best divines in town. His debts are great, above 80,000%. He has left his lady well near 5,000l. a year, the import of the wines in Ireland, for which they say she may have 20,000l. ready money, and 2.0001. pension, newly confirmed to her by the king: little or nothing comes to his son. The physicians keep him alive with cordials, but they are of opinion that he cannot last many days." His funeral, probably according to his own directions, was magnificent.

Lodge remarks, that "notwithstanding his expensive absurdities, the earl left a very large fortune, partly derived from his marriage with the heiress of the Lords Denny, but more from the king's unlimited bounty." The fact, though not of much importance, scarcely appears to be corroborated by contemporary writers. Lord Clarendon says especially, that he left neither "a house nor an acre of land to be remembered by:" and yet both Clarendon and Weldon estimate the sums heaped on him by James as amounting to four hundred thousand pounds.

With all his faults, with all his folly and boundless expenditure, the spendthrift earl has still some claims to be a favourite. Civility and ⚫ common sense preserved him from the fate of Somerset and of Buckingham. He was modest, generous, and hospitable; neither depressed by adversity, nor elated by prosperity. Sir William Davenant says of him, in a copy of verses addressed to his widow

* Clarendon, vol. iii. p. 140. It appears strange at first sight that Carlisle, who was a peer, should have been made a gentleman of the bed-chamber. We find, however, that as late as George I. the Duke of Hamilton was merely styled first gentleman, as was also the Duke of Lauderdale in the reign of Charles the Second. Formerly the title of gentleman implied, in its strictest sense, nobility.

insolent.

FRANCIS LORD BACON,

EARL OF ST. ALBANS.

To enter into any lengthened details respecting the life of Lord Bacon might be considered a reflection on the reader; still it may not be inexpedient to introduce some scattered anecdotes relating to an extraordinary man, over whose mighty mind and corrupt heart the Christian lingers with sorrow, the moralist with wonder, and the world at large with regret:-a man whom it is now difficult to praise, yet whom, but for some lamentable weaknesses, it would have been almost as difficult not to idolise :

If parts allure thee, think how Bacon shined,
The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind.

Lord Bacon was the son of Sir Nicholas Bacon, Keeper of the Great Seal to Queen Elizabeth, and of Anne, daughter of Sir Anthony Cook, tutor to King Edward the Sixth: this lady has been extolled by her contemporaries for her piety and mental accomplishments. Bacon was born, January 22, 1561, at York House in the Strand, formerly the residence of the Bishops of Norwich, and afterwards of the Villiers, Dukes of Buckingham.

Lloyd says, that "he was a courtier from his cradle to his grave, sucking in experience with his milk, being inured to policy as early as to his grammar." When a boy, Queen Elizabeth took much notice of him, admired his ingenious answers, and, alluding to the post held by his father, used to style him familiarly her young Lord Keeper. She once inquired the age of the gifted boy, to which he replied readily, that "he was two years younger than her majesty's happy reign."

It was remarked by the famous Earl of Salisbury: that Raleigh was a good orator though a bad writer;-Northampton a good writer, though a bad orator :-but that Bacon excelled in both. Howell, who must have often listened to his oratory, speaks of him as "the eloquentest that was born in this isle."

He had the art of leading a man to the subject in which he was the most conversant. His memory was astonishing, yet he argued, said Lloyd, rather from observation and his own reasonings than from books. He spent four hours every morning in study, during which period he never allowed himself to be interrupted.

Ben Jonson and Richard Earl of Dorset were among the number of his friends. The latter was so great an admirer of his genius, that, according to Aubrey, he employed Sir Thomas Billingsley (the celebrated horseman) to write down whatever fell from the lips of the great philosopher in his social discourse. He liked to compose in his garden, accompanied either by a friend or amanuensis, who instantly committed his thoughts to paper. Among others whom he thus employed was Thomas Hobbes, of Malmsbury. Aubrey informs us that this person was so beloved by his lord, that he "was wont to

have him walk with him in his delicate groves when he did meditate, and when a notion darted into his mind, Mr. Hobbes was presently to write it down: and his lord was wont to say that he did it better than any one else about him, for that many times, when he read their notes, he scarce understood what they writ, because they understood it not clearly themselves."

His information on all subjects was astonishing. "I have heard him," says Osborne, in his advice to his son, " entertain a country lord in the proper terms relating to hawks and dogs; and at another time out-cant a London chirurgeon." Of money, he said, it was like manure, of no use till it was spread.

Sometimes he would have music in the room

adjoining that in which he composed. He was also accustomed to drink strong beer before going to bed; in order, we are told, "to lay his working fancy asleep, which otherwise would keep him waking a great part of the night." Sir Edward Coke, though he affected to undervalue him as a lawyer, appears to have been envious of his talent.

We are assured by Lloyd that Bacon always ainted at an eclipse of the moon.

His manner of living was superb in the extreme, especially when he was left regent of the kingdom during the progress of King James into Scotland, when he gave audience to the foreign ambassadors, in the Banqueting House at Whitehall. a'most with regal er'endour. Aney said: "The aviary at York House was built by his lordship, and cost 300l. Every meal, according to the season of the year, he had his table strewed with sweet herbs and flowers, which he said did refresh his spirits and memory. When he was at his country-house at Gorhambury, St. Albans seemed as if the court had been there, so nobly did he live. His servants had liveries with his crest; his watermen were more employed by gentlemen than even the king's. King James sent a buck to him, and he gave the keeper 50/." Howell, in his letters, mentions a similar instance of his liberality, on his receiving a buck from one of the royal domains. He sent for the underkeeper who had brought the present, and "having drunk the king's health unto him in a great silver gilt bowl," gave it to him as his fee.

Lord Bacon was not satisfied with common venality, but occasionally sold his decisions to both parties. Sir Symonds D'Ewes, however, says, that if he was the instrument of mischief, it was rather from those about him than his own nature, "which his very countenance promised to be affable and gentle." There is no doubt that this great dispenser of justice was duped in the grossest manner by his own servants: these people, we are told, robbed him at the bottom of the table, while he himself sat immersed in philosophical reveries at the upper end. Three of his servants kept their coaches, and more than one

maintained race-horses in their establishments. A splendid casket of jewels, presented to him by the East India merchants, was embezzled, without his discovering it, by his own page. When the fact was mentioned to him, that his servants had actually purloined money from his closet: "Ah! poor men," he said, "that is their portion." When he returned home, after the knowledge of his disgrace, his servants, rising, as usual, in the hall to receive him: "Ah!" he said, "your rise has been my fall." When they shortly afterwards deserted him, he compared them to vermin which quit a house when their instinct tells them it is about to fall.