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HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 


fcublteber's  announcement* 


CHRONICLES  OF  THE  HOUSE  OF 

BORGIA.  By  FREDERICK  BARON  CORVO. 
Illustrated  in  Photogravure.  Royal  8vo,  buckram 
gilt,  2is.  net. 

LITTLE    MEMOIRS    OF   THE 

NINETEENTH  CENTURY.  ByGsoRGE 
PASTON.  With  Photogravure  Illustrations. 
Large  crown  8vo,  cloth  gilt,  IDS.  6d. 

Second  Edition. 

LITTLE    MEMOIRS   OF   THE 

EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY.  By  GEORGE 
PASTON.  With  Photogravure  Illustrations. 
Large  crown  8vo,  cloth  gilt,  xos.  6d. 

Second  Edition. 

MRS.  DELANY:  A  Memoir,  1700-1788. 

By  GEORGE  PASTON.  With  Photogravure 
Illustrations.  Large  crown  8vo,  cloth  gilt, 
75.  6d.  Second  Edition. 


LONDON:   GRANT  RICHARDS 


£y  permission  of  his  Grace  the  Dufre  ofJJeronskire. 


HOME  LIFE  UNDER 
THE  STUARTS 

1603-1649 

BY 

ELIZABETH    GODFREY 


ILLUSTRATED 


LONDON:    GRANT   RICHARDS 

NEW  YORK :   E.  P.  DUTTON  AND  CO. 

1903 


TO 
MY    SISTER   AND    BROTHER 


INTRODUCTION 

HISTORY  is  a  delightful  study,  not  only  to  the  profound 
student  but  also  to  the  casual  reader,  especially  when  it 
deals  with  a  period  sufficiently  near  our  own  to  enable 
us  to  enter  into  the  motives  and  points  of  view  of  the 
actors.  It  is  always  interesting  to  learn  how  nations 
grew,  how  territories  were  conquered,  and  kings  set  up 
or  cast  down  ;  but  there  is  a  certain  byway  of  history 
which  to  many  minds  has  a  peculiar  fascination,  which 
is  not  concerned  with  Acts  of  Parliament  and  Treaties, 
with  growth  of  Constitutions  or  territorial  changes,  but 
tells  of  the  ordinary  everyday  life  of  people  at  home, 
how  they  lived,  how  they  dressed,  how  they  brought  up 
their  children,  what  they  read,  what  amusements  they 
preferred,  how  they  commented  to  each  other  in  private 
letters  on  passing  events,  and  how  their  individual  lives 
were  affected  by  them. 

This  it  is,  this  love  of  the  gossip  of  bygone  ages,  of 
the  personal  details  that  give  a  sense  of  reality,  that 
lends  to  the  historical  novel  such  an  unfailing  popu- 
larity. The  worst  of  this  form  of  literature  is  that  the 
author  is  fettered  by  no  obligation  of  conscientious 
veracity.  He  studies  his  period,  and  he  more  or  less 
successfully  reproduces  its  general  features,  and  in 
the  case  of  a  writer  of  genius  not  seldom  attains  an 
ideal  truth  of  effect  beyond  mere  veracity  of  detail ;  but 
he  not  only  sees  things  in  the  glamour  of  his  personal 
predilections,  a  thing  no  man  can  wholly  avoid,  but 
fiction  gives  him  a  perfectly  free  hand  to  represent 
things  as  they  were  not,  and  few  readers  are  able  as 


vi      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

they  go  along  to  separate  the  true  from  the  false,  or 
indeed  have  any  wish  to  do  a  thing  which  would 
entirely  destroy  the  illusion  they  are  enjoying.  So 
is  history  in  the  popular  mind  built  up  ;  so  are  char- 
acters taken  away  with  a  light  heart  from  people  who, 
although  they  have  passed  from  this  earthly  scene,  were 
just  as  real  as  ourselves,  and  have  just  the  same  right 
to  be  judged  by  what  they  really  said  and  did,  not  by 
what  the  historical  novelist  puts  into  their  mouths. 

This  study  of  seventeenth  century  life  makes  no 
attempt  to  draw  an  ideal  picture  of  the  times,  but 
simply  tries  to  gather  from  letters,  diaries,  or  chance 
reference  in  contemporary  writings  some  notion  of  the 
ordinary  life  of  every  day  in  homes  for  the  most  part  of 
the  cultivated  classes.  For  one  limitation  of  necessity 
it  has,  namely  that  the  available  records  are  obviously 
confined  to  those  who  were  described  in  the  language 
of  the  day  as  persons  of  quality.  The  working  classes 
wrote  few  letters  and  no  journals  ;  upper  servants  wrote 
letters,  and  wrote  them  well  too,  but  their  lives  appear 
in  conjunction  with  those  of  their  masters.  Tradesmen 
of  the  better  sort  were  gentlemen,  not  only  in  point  of 
cultivation  but  belonging  to  good  families  ;  younger 
sons  of  men  of  position  went  into  trade  as  a  matter  of 
course,  and  did  not  lose  caste  in  any  way  by  so  doing. 
Marmaduke  Rawdon,  the  wine  merchant,  was  quite  a 
great  man,  and  it  would  be  entirely  a  mistake  to  suppose 
that  Izaak  Walton,  the  friend  of  Donne  and  George 
Herbert,  the  brother-in-law  of  Bishop  Ken,  held  the 
rank  of  a  linen-draper  of  to-day.  James  Howell,  whose 
letters  throw  light  on  many  customs  of  his  time,  began 
life  as  manager  of  a  glass-blowing  factory  in  Broad 
Street,  then  travelled  for  the  business,  was  later  tutor 
to  Sir  Richard  Savage's  sons  at  Long  Melford,  and 
after  having  been  intrusted  with  various  missions 
abroad  was  made  clerk  to  the  Privy  Council.  It  is 
the  lives  of  those  lower  in  the  social  scale,  the  farmers, 


INTRODUCTION  vii 

ploughmen,  shepherds,  the  strolling  fiddlers  and  wan- 
dering chapmen,  the  bargees,  the  hackney  coachmen, 
the  'feloes  who  cary  coles/  that  go  by  in  silence.  To- 
day we  write  about  these  people  ;  novels  teem  with 
their  lives  and  experiences,  but  then  they  were  pawns 
or  counters.  They  walk  across  the  stage  in  the  old 
comedies  and  speak  their  appropriate  words,  they  make 
an  occasional  brief  appearance  in  the  letters,  like  Sir 
Edmund  Verney's  gardener  who  would  '  fidle  about 
his  woark,'  but  for  the  most  part  we  can  only  con- 
jecture how  they  lived. 

More,  no  doubt,  might  have  been  gathered  on  this 
subject  from  the  works  of  those  who  have  made  re- 
searches into  it ;  but  the  aim  of  this  study  has  been  to 
keep  as  much  as  possible  to  contemporary  records,  and 
in  all  cases  where  it  might  be  to  let  the  subjects  speak 
for  themselves.  Not  what  we  moderns  think  they  pro- 
bably said  or  did  or  meant,  but  what  they  said  of 
themselves  or  each  other,  has  been  my  quarry. 

The  half-century  I  have  chosen  has  two  especial 
recommendations  for  this  kind  of  study :  one  is  its 
completeness,  so  to  say  separateness,  beginning  with 
the  close  of  the  Elizabethan  period  and  ending  with  the 
death  of  Charles  i.,  the  other  the  fulness  of  its  records. 
Times  are  always  changing,  though  the  transition  is 
usually  very  gradual  and  almost  imperceptible,  but  the 
end  of  the  long  reign  of  Elizabeth  saw  a  marked  change 
in  manners,  in  dress,  in  scientific  conceptions  of  the 
world.  The  Cavalier  of  the  reigns  of  the  first  James 
and  Charles,  though  he  inherited  certain  qualities  from 
his  Elizabethan  forebears,  was  as  distinct  from  them  in 
personal  characteristics  as  he  was  from  his  sons  and 
grandsons  of  the  Restoration.  The  gentry  of  these 
two  reigns  was  in  many  respects  the  fine  flower  of  the 
cultivated  classes,  a  flower  which  fell  on  the  scaffold  at 
Whitehall,  and  one  which  the  Restoration  could  not 
restore.  Fruit  there  might  be,  the  same  flower  never 


viii      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

again.     It  is  some  specimens  of  this  flower  which  these 
pages  attempt  to  preserve. 

Happily  the  time  is  peculiarly  rich  in  personal 
memorials.  Many  families  have  most  fortunately  pre- 
served bundles  of  old  letters,  several  of  which  have 
been  lately  given  to  the  world  and  which  are  of  in- 
estimable value — they  only  make  us  wish  for  more. 
If  those  who  look  through  old  correspondence  and 
make  holocausts  of  it  had  realised  what  things  the  flight 
of  time  makes  really  valuable,  they  would  have  spared 
more  about  trivial  domestic  concerns,  about  the  children, 
the  little  quarrels,  the  fashions,  the  chit-chat  that  make 
up  common  life,  and  rather  let  the  reports  of  public 
affairs  which  State  papers,  pamphlets,  and  '  Diurnalls  ' 
of  the  day  can  furnish  go  to  the  flames.  In  the  case  of 
the  Verney  family  the  whole  correspondence  of  a  couple 
of  centuries  or  more  seems  to  have  been  preserved,  and 
Lady  Verney  in  making  it  public  has  exercised  the  most 
discriminating  choice.  For  the  domestic  life  of  the  Stuart 
period  her  book  is  absolutely  invaluable,  and  has  been 
largely  drawn  upon  by  the  kind  consent  of  the  pub- 
lishers, Messrs.  Longman,  Green  and  Co.  Hardly 
less  precious  are  the  Letters  of  Mr.  Endymion  Porter, 
Gentleman  of  the  Bedchamber  to  King  Charles  /. ,  com- 
piled by  Mrs.  Townshend,  from  which  she  has  most 
liberally  allowed  me  to  quote.  Much  has  also  been 
taken  from  the  Life  of  Sir  Kenelm  Digby  by  one  of  his 
descendants,  by  his  kind  permission  ;  from  Annals  of 
Winchester  by  T.  F.  Kirby,  by  that  of  the  Warden 
and  Fellows ;  from  Sacharissa,  by  the  kindness  of 
Mrs.  Ady ;  and  I  am  also  allowed  to  insert  some 
interesting  letters  from  the  early  part  of  Miss  Fell 
Smith's  Mary  Rich,  Countess  of  Warwick,  by  Messrs. 
Longman.  In  contemporary  memoirs  the  time  is 
peculiarly  rich.  Life  was  beginning  to  become  more 
self-conscious,  and  people  living  in  very  stirring  times, 
women  particularly,  were  moved  to  write  of  their  own 


INTRODUCTION  ix 

experiences  and  those  of  their  husbands,  often  by  way 
of  vindication. 

It  is  chiefly  to  these  memoirs  written  by  women  that 
we  owe  the  little  intimate  personal  details  that  give  a 
realising  sense  of  the  times.  Men  were  very  deeply 
occupied  with  great  matters.  Clarendon,  when  he  does 
give  a  scene  of  home  life  or  a  bit  of  personal  description, 
has  a  masterly  touch,  and  is  indeed  unapproachable  for 
his  insight  into  character  ;  but  his  concern  was  with  the 
making  of  History,  and  the  Life  is  hardly  less  historic 
in  this  sense  than  the  History  of  the  Rebellion.  When 
we  get,  as  we  do  in  Anne  Halkett's  memoirs,  a  woman's 
account  of  an  incident  such  as  the  escape  of  the  Duke 
of  York,  it  is  wonderful  for  the  filling  in  of  small  detail, 
and  for  the  colour,  so  to  speak.  It  is  as  natural  as  a 
novel  and  as  historically  true  as  a  State  paper. 

The  nature  of  the  subject  has  demanded  one  very 
difficult  thing,  namely  to  keep  out  what  strictly  belongs 
to  the  domain  of  politics — at  least  to  avoid  political  argu- 
ment. Of  history  properly  speaking  there  will  be  found 
as  little  as  may  be,  but  it  is  impossible  at  any  time  to 
draw  a  clear  dividing-line  between  public  and  private 
life.  The  public  is  made  up  of  individuals,  and  a  man's 
political,  still  more  his  religious,  convictions  will  more 
or  less  colour  his  home  life  and  that  of  his  wife  and 
children.  This  is  a  general  truth,  yet  more  especially 
applicable  to  that  half-century  which  I  have  in  view  ; 
for  then  almost  more  than  any  time  in  English  history 
politics  meant  religion,  and  religion  was  then  to  all  the 
question  of  paramount  concern.  The  war,  too,  was 
brought  into  the  very  heart  of  home  life.  The  men  were 
not,  as  at  other  times,  gone  to  the  war,  but  the  war  came 
to  them.  Innumerable  houses  were  wrecked,  burned,  or 
plundered  ;  families  were  divided  so  that  many  a  one 
could  say  that  his  foes  were  they  of  his  own  household  ; 
and  those  who  could  not  take  a  side — and  they  were 
many — found  themselves  driven  into  exile.  To  write 


x     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

on  home  life  and  ignore  the  great  questions  which  were 
tearing  the  life  of  the  nation  up  by  the  roots  is  a  manifest 
impossibility  ;  only  my  aim  has  been  to  say  as  little  of 
them  as  may  be,  save  in  their  personal  bearing. 

It  may  perhaps  seem  that  more  has  been  quoted  from 
Cavalier  than  from  Puritan  sources,  but  if  so  it  is  simply 
from  the  much  greater  richness  of  material.  The  Puritan 
ladies,  with  the  notable  exception  of  Mrs.  Hutchinson, 
do  not  seem  to  have  been  given  to  much  writing,  and 
her  memoirs,  invaluable  in  the  early  portion,  giving 
the  story  of  her  youth  and  courtship,  are  a  little  dis- 
appointing later  on  the  domestic  side.  She  was  such  a 
very  strong-minded  lady,  she  does  not  often  indulge  the 
reader  with  personal  details  of  the  manner  of  life  in  her 
family,  her  daily  occupations,  nor  even  of  the  religious 
observances  they  used,  though  the  religious  question 
and  her  own  and  her  husband's  hatred  of  '  prelacy '  is 
continually  to  the  front.  She  is  more  concerned  with 
battles  and  sieges  than  with  children  or  servants,  dress 
or  needlework ;  but  her  book  is  immensely  interesting 
for  the  side-light  it  throws  on  the  divisions  amongst  the 
Puritans,  and  the  estimation  in  which  Cromwell  was 
held  by  a  large  section  of  his  ostensible  followers.  Her 
first  aim  was  to  draw,  as  she  has  done  very  ably,  a 
striking  and  attractive  portrait  of  Colonel  Hutchinson  ; 
her  next  to  write  history  according  to  her  own  view  of 
events,  but  we  look  in  vain  for  such  amusing  details  as 
give  a  charming  if  frivolous  interest  to  those  of  Lady 
Fanshawe  or  Anne  Murray.  Lady  Brilliana  Harley, 
however,  in  her  letters  to  her  son,  affords  many  minute 
touches  as  to  home  life  and  religious  observance.  She 
was  a  strict  though  not  violent  Puritan,  very  gentle  in 
her  own  nature  and  very  devout  in  her  religion.  Lady 
Warwick  in  middle  life  became  a  strong  Puritan,  and 
is  indeed  remarkably  like  an  evangelical  countess  of  the 
last  century,  but  her  conversion  did  not  take  place  till 
near  the  end  of  the  period,  and  hardly  comes  within  the 


INTRODUCTION  xi 

scope  of  this  study.  The  Verney  letters  may  be  held 
almost  neutral,  since  the  family  was  divided,  and  Ralph, 
the  Puritan  member,  refused  to  go  all  lengths  with  the 
Parliament. 

It  has  been  found  that  the  amount  of  detail  needful  to 
give  even  so  slight  and  inadequate  a  view  as  is  here 
attempted,  of  an  everyday  life  in  many  ways  so  unlike 
our  own,  would  outrun  the  limits  of  a  single  volume.  It 
has  therefore  seemed  best  to  confine  this  to  the  more 
strictly  domestic  part  of  the  subject,  leaving  the  en- 
vironment, life  in  town  and  country,  amusements,  art 
and  literature,  social  relations  and  religion,  which 
bulked  so  largely  in  the  life  of  that  day,  to  be  dealt 
with  in  a  later  volume,  which  it  is  hoped  may  follow 
shortly. 

My  thanks  are  due  not  only  to  those  already  named 
who  have  kindly  permitted  extracts  from  their  books 
to  appear,  but  also  to  many  who  have  helped  me  by 
suggesting  sources  of  information  unknown  to  me. 

I  am  conscious  that  the  shortcomings  of  this  study  of 
a  very  great  subject  are  many.  To  do  it  justice  needs 
unlimited  time,  wide  acquaintance  with  the  very  large 
and  important  literature  of  a  great  period,  and  a  power 
of  selection  and  co-ordination  that  I  cannot  lay  claim  to. 
It  has  sometimes  seemed  to  me  that  I  ought  to  leave  it 
for  abler  hands,  or  wait  till  time  should  increase  and 
ripen  the  little  store  of  material  I  have  gathered.  Still, 
such  as  it  is,  I  have  done  it,  and  can  only  hope  it  may 
give  to  some  readers  something  of  the  same  pleasure 
it  has  given  me  in  the  making. 

ELIZABETH  GODFREY. 

SOUTHBOURNE. 


CONTENTS 
CHAPTER    I 

THE   NURSERY 

The  Child — Early  deaths  of  children — Portraits  of  children 
— Some  royal  baby-clothes — The  old  nurse — Mrs.  Ralph 
Verney's  little  Jack — Naughty  Betty — Lullabies — Nursery 
rhymes  —  Block  alphabets  —  Samplers  —  Discipline  — 
Lorenzo  Gary  and  a  whipping — Kissing  the  rod — A  great- 
grandmother's  intercession — The  little  Porters  and  their 
grandmother — A  good  child,  Lettice  Morrison, 


CHAPTER    II 

CHILDREN'S  GAMES 

Dress  of  the  day  and  games — Dolls— Lady  Arabella  Stuart — 
Mrs.  Lucy  Apsley — Balls,  whips,  hobby-horses  and  other 
toys  —  Hide-and-seek  —  Rhyming  games — Superstitious 
rhymes  and  sayings — Children's  stories — Fairy  tales — A 
good  boy— Baby  lovers— Master  Robin  Sidney  with  the 
knights  at  Windsor — King  Charles  and  the  little  widow — 
The  king's  parting  with  his  children,  .  .  .  .  16 


CHAPTER  III 

SOME   LESSON-BOOKS 

Early  education — John  Evelyn  at  four  years  old — Anthony 
Wood  at  the  same  age — Their  schooling — Precocity  of 
little  Richard  Evelyn— The  Horn-book— Primers—  The 
English  Schoolcmaster — Comenius's  Gate  of  Tongues — 
Talking  Latin  —  The  Colloquies  of  Corderius  —  Long 
school-hours — Hard  discipline — Lillie's  Grammar — Lord 

xiii 


xiv     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

Herbert's  views  on  education— Arithmetic  according  to 
Cocker — Letter  from  a  tutor — Letter  from  Charles  Porter 
to  his  mother, 31 


CHAPTER    IV 

PUBLIC   SCHOOLS 

The  old  Public  Schools — The  Grammar  Schools— Winchester 
— Its  constitution — Its  internal  government — Games — 
Complaint  of  the  head-master's  partiality— Letter  from 
a  scholar — Laud's  visitation — Winchester  in  the  great 
Rebellion— Westminster's  loyalty— Warden  Harris  and 
the  via  media  —  The  Parliamentary  Commission  — 
Religious  customs — Eton— Letters  from  the  Boyles— 
Westminster — St.  Paul's — Milton  and  other  distinguished 
alumni— Merchant  Taylors'— The  curriculum  at  Ipswich,  46 


CHAPTER   V 

THE   PRIVATE   TUTOR 

The  governor  for  manners  —  Education  of  Recusants  —  Sir 
Kenelm  Digby  with  Laud — Lady  Falkland's  children  at 
Great  Tew— Mr.  Chillingworth— Escape  of  the  children 
— Puritan  education  with  French  or  Swiss  divines — Ralph 
Verney's  eldest  son  — The  travelling  tutor  or  'bear- 
leader'— Boys  placed  in  household  of  diplomats  abroad 
— Endymion  Porter  in  Spain — Mr.  Murray,  tutor  to  the 
royal  princes,  ...  .  .  .  ,  .  .  .  66 


CHAPTER   VI 

THE   UNIVERSITY 

Mr.  Peacham  'On  a  gentleman's  carriage  at  the  Universitie' 
— Lord  Herbert  on  the  course  of  study — Dr.  Earle's 
satirical  sketches — Some  old  customs — Ralph  Verney  at 
Oxford— A  mother's  letters  to  her  son  at  Oxford— Evelyn 
at  Baliol— Cambridge— The  routine  of  life  there— The 
course  of  study— The  experiences  of  Sir  Simonds  d'Ewes 
—Plays  and  pastimes  —  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  and 
Lucius  Cary, 77 


CONTENTS  xv 

CHAPTER   VII 

GIRLHOOD 

PAGE 

Education  of  girls  at  home— Milton's  daughters — Ladies' 
schools — Lucy  Apsley — Elizabeth  Tanfield — Her  shrewd- 
ness —  Religious  training  of  Lettice  Morrison  —  Anne 
Harrison  a  'hoyting  girl' — Anne  Murray — The  girlhood 
of '  Sacharissa ' — Family  party  at  Stalbridge — At  Claydon 
—Jokes  and  flirtations— Paucity  of  girls' letters,  .  .  98 

CHAPTER   VIII 

GIVING    IN    MARRIAGE 

Brief  girlhood — Arranged  marriages — Early  marriage  of  Lord 
Herbert  of  Cherbury — Blanche  Carne  of  Ewenny — Eliza- 
beth Tanfield  married  to  Sir  Henry  Gary — Her  letters  to 
him  copied  out  of  a  Complete  Letter-  Writer — Mary  Black- 
nail  of  Abington — Her  guardians — Her  father-in-law — 
The  matches  of  the  Verney  girls — The  Earl  of  Cork's  sons 
— Royal  interference — Customs  of  the  day,  .  .  .113 

CHAPTER    IX 

SOME   WHO   CHOSE    FOR   THEMSELVES 

The  lovers  of 'Sacharissa'— Her  marriage  to  Lord  Sunder- 
land— Wilful  Lady  Mary  Boyle— Dorothy  Osborne— Her 
long  engagement — The  wooing  of  Lucy  Apsley — The 
love-match  of  Lucius  Cary — The  marriage  of  Edward 
Hyde — His  young  wife's  death, 126 

CHAPTER   X 

ROMANCE 

Venetia  Stanley  goes  to  a  court  ball— Her  beauty— Her  dancing 
— Her  duenna — She  is  abducted — Her  escape — Her  rescue 
from  a  wolf  by  Sir  Edward  Sackville — She  meets  Kenelm 
Digby  again — Opposition — He  goes  abroad — His  death 
reported  —  She  accepts  Sir  Edward  —  Breaks  off  her 
engagement — Kenelm's  return — Their  marriage — Her 
death, 143 


xvi     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 
CHAPTER   XI 

THE  LOVE-STORY   OF   ANNE   MURRAY 

PAGE 

A  careful  mother — Anne's  amusements — Her  friend's  brother 
— Her  mother  forbids  the  match — Constancy  and  in- 
constancy— Her  fortitude — Her  brother's  friend — His 
character — A  married  man  apart  from  his  wife — Anne 
assists  in  Royalist  plots— His  agitation  on  learning  his 
wife's  death — His  proposal  of  marriage — His  wife  alive 
after  all— Anne  goes  to  Scotland— Her  marriage  to  Sir 
James  Halkett,  .  .  ,  . 155 

CHAPTER   XII 

MARRIED   LIFE 

The  tone  of  the  court— Severity  to  Lady  Purbeck— Milton's 
married  life — Mary  Verney — Her  journey  to  England — 
Her  letters — Her  death — Lady  Fanshawe's  wedding  at 
Oxford — She  follows  her  husband's  fortunes — A  mis- 
understanding— Her  hardships — Taking  leave  of  the  king,  171 

CHAPTER   XIII 

SOME   LETTERS    FROM    HUSBANDS   AND   WIVES 

A  Puritan  wife's  letters — Lady  Falkland's  submissiveness — 
Her  riding — Her  dress — Her  loyalty  through  persecution 
on  her  change  of  religion — Reconciliation — Her  hus- 
band's death — Letters  from  Endymion  Porter  to  his  wife 
— Presents  from  Spain — Quarrelling  and  making  up — 
Lord  Sunderland's  letters  from  the  trenches — Letters  on 
his  death, 189 

CHAPTER   XIV 

THE  HEAD   OF   THE   FAMILY 

What  'the  family'  consisted  of — The  trusty  servant — Foot- 
man's character — Mr.  Rawdon's  footboys — Some  char- 
acters— The  cook — Lord  Cork's  household  regulations — 
Servants  as  friends — Gradations — Some  servants'  letters 
— The  chaplain — Father  and  sons — Sir  Edmund  Verney 
—Mr.  Henry  Hyde—4  A  good  old  man,'  ....  209 


CONTENTS  xvii 

CHAPTER  XV 

THE    HOUSEWIFE 

Her  duties  in  kitchen,  still-room,  and  store-room — Medicines 
and  home  doctoring  —  The  waiting-gentlewoman — Jane 
Wright  —  Hair-dressing  —  Religious  observances — The 
routine  of  the  day — The  curing  of  hams — Home-made 
wines  and  mead — Christmas  presents — Recipes — Invalid 
cookery — Salads — Mrs.  Cowley — Mrs.  Wallington — Mrs. 
Whitelocke — Evelyn  on  the  days  of  his  grandmother,  .  229 

CHAPTER   XVI 

NEEDLEWORK 

Needlework  an  art — The  sampler — Various  stitches — Two 
branches,  the  decorative  and  the  pictorial — Imitations  of 
tapestry — Floral  designs — Lady  Falkland's  industry — 
Mrs.  Wellington's — Lady  Sussex's  'swite-bag' — Caskets 
and  book-covers  —  Drawn-work  —  Plain  needlework — 
Patterns, 247 

CHAPTER   XVII 

DRESS   AND    FASHION 

Beauty  and  expressiveness  of  the  dress  of  the  period — Rich- 
ness of  men's  dress — Simplicity  of  fashions  for  women — 
Durable  materials — Some  of  Mrs.  Porter's  tailor's  bills 
—Lady  Mary  Boyle's  dress  allowance— Fashion-plates- 
Puritan  fashions — Extravagances — The  GiiVs  Horn-book 
— Mirrors  in  snuff-boxes — *  Whalebone  bodies  for  the 
better  grace'— Mourning— The  black  bed— Shopping 
commissions — Patches — Periwigs — Rouge — A  craze  for 
seals, 259 

CHAPTER   XVIII 

HOUSE  AND   HOME 

Few  houses  of  the  period  remaining — Description  of  one  in 
the  west  country — Extensive  outbuildings — Mr.  Howell's 
letter  from  Long  Melford — Lord  Cork's  improvements  at 
Stalbridge — Fireplaces — The  priest's  hole — Inventories 
at  Claydon,  at  Corfe  Castle,  at  Forest  Hill— Chairs 
and  Tables — Penshurst — Furniture  for  the  royal  children 
— Picture  of  the  sitting-room  of  a  well-to-do  middle-class 

household, 276 

b 


xviii    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 
CHAPTER   XIX 

ON   GARDENS    . 

PAGE 

Love  of  gardens — Garden  literature — Gerard's  Herbal — The 
poets  on  gardens — Bacon's  Essays — His  arrangement  of 
flowers  for  the  seasons— The  queen's  gardener — Paradisus 
Terrestris — Comparison  of  Evelyn's  Kalendarium  Hor- 
tense  with  Bacon's  calendar — Evelyn's  Acetaria — The 
importation  of  foreign  flowers  —  Tradescant  —  Topiary, 
dials,  aviaries,  fountains — The  wilderness,  .  .  .291 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

LADY  ARABELLA  STUART,  WITH  HER  DOLL—  Frontispiece. 

By  permission  of  His  Grace  the  Duke  of  Devonshire. 

AT  PAGE 

PAP-BOAT   SUPPOSED    TO    HAVE    BELONGED   TO   OLIVER 

CROMWELL  .....  4 

CRADLE  OF  1641            ......  6 

THE  BATEMAN  HORN-BOOK     .....  35 

FACSIMILE  OF  TITLE-PAGE  TO  HORNBYE'S  HORN-BOOK     .  36 

EDWARD  COCKER,  ARITHMETIC  AND  WRITING  MASTER    .  42 

From  the  Portrait  in  the  National  Gallery, 

GEORGE  VILLIERS  AND  HIS  BROTHER          .  65 

From  the  Picture  by  Vandyck. 

VENETIA,  LADY  DIGBY  .....  153 

Frtm  the  Picture  by  Vandyck  in  Windsor  Castle. 

THE  TRUSTY  SERVANT  ......      210 

By  permission  of  W.  T.  Green,  Winchester. 

PANEL  OF  WHITE  SATIN  EMBROIDERED  IN  SILK    .  .251 

CAVALIER    HAT,     EMBROIDERED    GLOVES,    AND    LINEN 

NIGHTCAP.  ......      253 

A  LADY  OF  FASHION     ......      266 

From  Hollar's  '  Ornatus  Muliebris  Anglicanus.' 

SUMMER  WALKING  DRESS       .          .          .          .          .268 

From  the  same. 

PURITAN  LADY'S  WALKING  DRESS     ....      270 

From  the  same. 

xix 


xx      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

AT  PAGE 

WATCH,  WITH  OUTER  CASE,  WHICH  BELONGED  TO  JOHN  PYM     274 
WASHING-TALLY  IN  HORN  FROM  HADDON  HALL    .          .      278 

By  permission  of  His  Grace  the  Duke  of  Rutland. 

EXTERIOR  OF  IGHTHAM  MOTE          .          .          .          .      280 

By  permission  of  J.  Colyer  Ferguson,  Esq. 

CORRIDOR  IN  IGHTHAM  MOTE  .          .          .'..        .      288 

VIEW  OF  GARDEN  AT  LEVENS         -  ;'          .          .          .303 

By  permission  of  Mr.  John  Lane. 


HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 


CHAPTER   I 

THE    NURSERY 

'  Hee  is  Nature's  fresh  picture  newly  drawne  in  oyle, 
<  which  Time  and  much  handling  dimmes  and  defaces. 

*  His  soule  is  yet  a  white  paper,  not  yet  scribbled  upon 
'  with  the  Observations   of  the  World,   wherewith  at 
'  length   it  becomes  a  blurred   Note-Book.  .  .  .  Hee 

*  kisses  and  loves  all,  and  when  the  smart  of  the  Rod  is 
1  past,  smiles  on  his  Beater.  .    .    .  Wee  laugh  at  his 

*  foolish  Sports,   but  his  Game  is   our  Earnest  ;    and 
4  his  Drummes,  Rattles,  and  Hobby  -  Horses   but  the 
'  Emblems  and  Mockings  of  Men's  Businesses.'1 

Of  all  that  that  shrewd  observer  of  manners,  Bishop 
Earle,  has  to  say  about  children,  this  is  the  sum.  The 
curious  book  in  which  he  has  depicted  the  world  of  his 
day  in  a  series  of  thumbnail  sketches,  opens  with  a 
study  of  the  Child,  but  it  is  a  brief  and  bald  one. 
He  notices  the  obvious  features  —  the  innocence,  the 
imitativeness  ;  the  drums,  the  hobby-horses,  the  mimic 
warfare  —  and  passes  on  to  more  important  personages. 
The  child,  like  the  working-man,  had  to  wait  for  the 
nineteenth  century  to  have  attention  focussed  upon 
him  :  at  the  time  of  which  I  write  both  were  very 
much  taken  for  granted. 

It  is  a  singular  thing,  when  we  consider  how  often 

1  The  Child-  Microcosmography,  by  Bishop  Earle. 
A 


2        HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

women  held  the  pen  in  the  early  seventeenth  century, 
that  in  such  domestic  records  as  have  survived — and 
they  are  many — the  mention  of  the  children,  especially 
of  the  babies,  should  be  so  rare  and  so  brief ;  they  flit 
across  the  pages  like  little  ghosts,  often  hardly  more 
than  a  name.  Occasionally  a  mother  sends  a  few 
sentences  of  description  to  an  absent  husband,  or  a 
fond  father  writes  from  court  or  camp :  <  Pray  tell  me 
'  how  my  little  boys  do,  and  whether  Charles  will  be 
'  black  or  fair ' ;  or  sends  a  message  to  '  Popet.'  Some- 
times it  is  a  nurse  or  tutor  who  writes  a  report  of  health 
or  progress.  Childish  things  were  not  then  made  of 
the  importance  that  they  are  now  ;  yet  discipline  was 
strict,  and  it  may  be  questioned  whether  the  system 
was  not  wholesomer  than  the  over-cosseting  of  later 
days.  It  trained  up  an  incomparable  race  of  valiant 
men  and  heroic,  much-enduring  women,  and  it  certainly 
made  men  and  women  of  them  sooner. 
>  Scanty  as  are  the  details,  we  can,  however,  glean 
enough  here  and  there  to  form  some  notion  of  baby 
life.  One  sad  feature  of  the  nursery  of  those  days  must 
be  touched  on  :  the  nearness  of  the  coffin  to  the  cradle. 
So  many  names  on  tombstones  of  infants  of  days,  so 
many  elegiac  verses  on  blossoms  early  nipped,  record  a 
sorrow  and  disappointment  too  common  to  call  forth 
more  than  tender  sighs.  Lady  Fanshawe  had  and  lost 
innumerable  children  on  her  wanderings,  and  records 
the  fact  in  her  memoirs  with  a  quiet  resignation,  as 
though  the  death  of  infants  were  the  common  lot ; 
though  indeed  when  her  little  girl  of  nine,  her  favourite 
Nan,  died,  she  was  inconsolable.  Mrs.  Ralph  Verney 
had  lost  three  children  before  she  herself  was  out  of  her 
teens,  and  two  later  ;  but  it  was  the  death  of  her  eleven- 
year-old  Pegge  that  cut  her  to  the  heart.  Possibly  the 
extreme  youth  of  the  parents  may  have  bequeathed  a 
feeble,  immature  constitution,  and  conditions  of  life 
were  too  hard  for  the  fragile.  The  strong  ones  may 


THE  NURSERY  3 

have  grown  up  more   robust  than   in  tenderer  times, 
but  the  weakly  dropped  blighted  into  an  early  grave. 

If  the  writers  of  that  day  have  said  but  little  about 
children,  the  painters  have  made  amends.  The  royal 
children  were  painted  again  and  again  ;  so  too  were 
the  beautiful  children  of  the  Duke  of  Buckingham,  and 
three  of  the  little  Porters  appear  with  their  parents  in  a 
family  piece,  and  many  isolated  portraits  of  little  boys 
and  girls  afford  us  some  idea  of  how  these  little  folk 
looked — the  girls  and  very  small  boys  in  long  frocks, 
stiff  stomachers,  and  lace  caps  ;  the  older  boys  in 
cavalier  suits,  with  curled  love-locks. 

In  the  family  group  of  Charles  i.  and  Henrietta 
Maria  with  their  children,  now  in  Kensington  Palace, 
the  Queen  is  represented  with  her  baby  in  long  clothes 
in  her  arms,  by  which  we  may  see  how  a  baby  of  that 
day  was  dressed.  It  wears  a  little  close  cap,  as  babies 
used  to  do  up  to  the  middle  of  the  last  century,  which 
must  have  been  more  becoming  than  the  present 
fashion  of  displaying  its  poor  little  bald  head  ;  and 
its  petticoats  are  only  three-quarter  length,  as  cottage 
babies  wear  them  now,  instead  of  trailing  the  wealth  of 
unnecessary  robe  which  makes  a  new  baby  so  difficult 
to  handle  adroitly.  With  these  exceptions  it  is  remark- 
able how  little  the  fashion  in  baby-clothes  has  changed 
with  the  passing  of  the  centuries.  At  the  Stuart 
Exhibition  of  1889  some  of  the  little  garments  worn  by 
Charles  i.  at  his  christening,  which  had  been  carefully 
preserved  in  the  family  of  Sir  Thomas  Coventry,  Lord 
Keeper,  were  shown,  the  small  shirts,  binders,  and 
bibs  being  just  what  a  modern  baby  would  wear, 
though  there  were  separate  cuffs  and  miniature  lace 
mittens  which  have  since  gone  out.  Charles  n.  's  baby- 
linen,  which  was  on  view  at  the  New  Gallery  in  1901, 
was  just  the  same,  the  shirts  with  little  flaps  to  turn 
over  on  chest  and  back,  beautifully  oversewn  at  the 
corners  to  prevent  tearing. 


4        HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

Verily  the  world  has  moved  much  faster  in  the  last 
fifty  years  than  in  the  four  or  five  half-centuries  pre- 
ceding, as  we  realise  when  we  read  of  the  Nans  and 
Nannas  of  Stuart  nurseries.  In  some  few  middle-aged 
households  an  old  nurse  is  carefully  preserved  as  a 
precious  family  relic,  but  she  is  fast  disappearing  in 
these  times  of  change,  and  will  soon  be  no  more  than  a 
fond  memory.  Nowadays  nurses  come  and  nurses  go, 
few  take  root  in  the  household  ;  but  in  those  days  she 
was  universal — even  the  stately  and  formal  Sir  William 
Temple  possessed  a  '  Nan  '  to  whom  his  betrothed  sends 
a  message  :  '  Pray  bid  Nan  cut  a  lock  of  your  hair  for 
me.*  In  the  Verney  letters  Nan  Fudd  makes  frequent 
appearance  and  seems  quite  one  of  the  family.1  She 
nursed  two  generations,  first  Ralph  Verney  and  his 
brothers  and  sisters,  then  Ralph's  children  when  they 
were  at  Claydon,  as  well  as  mothering  the  six  orphan 
girls  left  there  through  the  war,  and  acting  lady's 
maid  to  them.  Like  most  of  her  kind,  she  spoilt  the 
youngest  disgracefully,  so  that  little  Betty  proved  quite 
unmanageable  by  sisters  or  sister-in-law,  and  Master 
Jack  in  his  mother's  absence  was  allowed  to  eat  what- 
ever he  fancied. 

The  letters  written  by  Ralph  Verney's  wife  from 
Claydon  while  he  was  in  exile,  when  she  had  come 
to  England  to  see  after  his  affairs,  give  a  quaint 
picture. 

1 1  must  give  thee  some  account  of  our  own  babyes 
1  heare.  For  Jack  his  leggs  are  most  miserable,  crooked 
'  as  evor  I  saw  any  child's,  and  yett  thank  god  he  goes 
'  very  strongly,  and  is  very  strayte  in  his  body  as  any 
4  child  can  bee  ;  and  is  a  very  fine  child  all  but  his 
'  legges,  and  truly  I  think  would  be  much  finer  if  we 
'  had  him  in  ordering,  for  they  lett  him  eat  anythinge 
*  that  he  hath  a  minde  toe,  and  he  keepes  a  very  ill 
'  diett ;  he  hath  an  imperfection  in  his  speech,  and  of 

1  Memoirs  of  the  Verney  Family,  by  Parthenope,  Lady  Verney. 


THE  NURSERY  5 

1  all  things  he  hates  his  booke  :  truly  tis  time  you  had 
'  him  with  you  for  he  learnes  noething  heare.  You 
<  would  be  much  pleased  with  his  Company,  for  he  is 
1  a  very  ready  witted  Child  and  is  very  good  company, 
4  and  is  soe  fond  of  the  name  of  his  Father  and  Mother  ; 
4  he  is  alwayes  with  me  from  the  first  hower  that  I 
'  came,  and  tells  me  that  he  would  very  fayne  goe  into 
1  ffrance  to  his  father:  he  sings  prettely.'  And  later: 
1  Jack  is  a  very  gallant  boy  ...  he  hath  noe  fault  in 
1  him  besides  his  leggs,  for  though  he  is  mine  owne  I 
*  must  needs  say  he  is  an  extream  witty  child.' l 

We  may  easily  picture  the  comfort  poor  Mary  Verney 
found  in  the  little  pattering  steps  and  baby  voice  that 
followed  her  from  garret  to  cellar,  as,  worried  and 
anxious,  she  toiled  through  inventories  and  noted  the 
ravages  years  of  neglect  and  the  quartering  of  troops 
had  wrought  amongst  her  household  goods. 

Even  little  Jack's  crooked  legs  were  less  of  an  anxiety 
than  the  wilfulness  of  her  young  sisters-in-law.  Betty, 
who  since  her  mother's  death  had  been  left  wholly  to 
Nurse  Fudd,  at  ten  years  old  was  found  most  trouble- 
some by  her  sisters.  'They  say,'  writes  Mary  with 
shocked  concern,  'that  she  is  the  worst  natured  and 
'  wilfullest  of  them  all  ...  they  say  she  is  a  pestelent 
'  wench.'  An  attempt  was  made  to  part  her  from  her 
nurse  and  place  her  with  a  married  sister  ;  but  it  would 
not  do  at  all — she  fretted  her  heart  out  for  her  Nan,  who 
was  the  only  creature  she  loved.  Her  sister  Pegg 
wrote  in  despair  to  Mary  : — 

4  Shee  was  soe  violent  to  bee  gon  as  she  wresolved  to 
'  goe  home  a  foote  wrather  then  to  stay  heare.  For  my 
'  part  I  thenck  hur  past  being  soe  very  a  baby  as  to  doe 
1  this  owght  of  childishnesse  which  made  me  to  take  it 
'  ill  from  hur.  And  a  nother  thing  is  that  she  sayes 
1  I  am  passhionat  &  soe  is  shee  which  makes  hur  to 
'  thencke  as  we  to  showlde  never  agre  to  gethor,  but 

1   Verney  Memoirs. 


6        HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

*  this  I  can  saifely  sweare,  Let  my  pashon  be  nevor  soe 

*  gret  I  nevor  shoed  any  at  all  to  hur.' 

But  Betty  had  ceased  to  be  '  so  very  a  baby '  in  years, 
and  our  concern  is  still  with  the  infant  upon  its  nurse's 
lap.  The  pap-boat  was  a  venerable  institution  which 
long  held  its  ground,  and  the  antique  silver  pap-boats 
still  preserved  in  many  families  testify  to  its  ancient 
use,  and  it  is  only  within  the  last  half-century  it 
has  been  superseded  by  the  feeding-bottle.1  Turkey 
rhubarb,  too,  long  reigned  supreme  in  the  nursery,  as 
these  same  Verney  letters  show.  One  of  the  young 
aunts,  writing  of  little  Mun,  Jack's  elder  brother,  says, 
6 1  have  given  the  rhubarb  to  his  nurse  and  made  her 
'  promise  he  shall  constantly  take  it.'  The  cradle,  of 
course,  was  a  solid  affair  of  wood  with  deep  rockers, 
often  handsomely  carved  ;  the  flimsy  wicker  bassinette 
with  its  frills  and  muslin  curtains  was  quite  unknown. 
It  was  full  of  feather  pillows  and  blankets,  and  often 
kept  far  too  hot,  close  to  a  fire  in  a  hot  room.  John 
Evelyn  attributed  the  death  of  his  little  boy,  who  died  of 
an  enlarged  liver,  to  being  covered  up  too  close  and 
warm  with  over-care,  and  it  is  probable  many  infants 
suffered  in  the  same  way.  The  nurse  sat  by  and  rocked 
the  cradle  with  her  foot,  while  she  plied  her  needle  and 
sang  or  crooned  the  time-honoured  lullabies  :  '  Hush-a- 
bye,  baby,  upon  the  tree-top,'  or  '  Bye,  Baby  Bunting, 
Father's  gone  a-hunting,'  or  <  Rock-a-bye,  baby,  thy 
cradle  is  green.'  Nothing  holds  its  own  so  long  as 
these  ditties,  handed  on  by  word  of  mouth  from  mother 
and  nurse,  and  preserved  from  change  or  corruption 
by  the  children's  well-known  aversion  to  the  slightest 
variation  in  the  wording  of  rhyme  or  tale  they  are  used 
to, — no  matter  whether  they  understand  it  or  not,  the 
sound  must  be  delivered  to  them  exactly  as  they  have 
always  heard  it. 

1  The  sucking-bottle  was  not  unknown,  as  one  was  used  to  feed  Master 
Rawdon  when  his  mouth  was  burned,  p.  27. 


THE  NURSERY  7 

The  rattle,  we  know  from  Bishop  Earle,  to  have  had 
its  place  in  the  nursery  of  those  days,  and  probably  the 
coral  and  bells  too  ;  and  it  is  pleasant  to  know  that  these 
solemn  infants,  who  look  so  grave  in  their  portraits, 
were  made  to  smile  at  the  legend  *  This  little  pig  went 
to  market,'  and  'Shoe  the  horse,  shoe  the  mare,  and  let 
the  little  colt  go  bare.'1  Mr.  Halliwell-Phillipps,  who 
is  the  great  authority  on  this  subject,  traces  most  of 
our  familiar  rhymes  to  sources  Elizabethan  or  earlier. 
The  traditional  names  of  the  toes  were  Harry  Whistle, 
Tommy  Thistle,  Harry  Whible,  Tommy  Thible,  and 
Little  Okerbell.  The  fingers,  too,  had  their  nursery 
names — Tom  Thumbkin,  Bess  Bumpkin,  Bill  Winkin, 
Long  Linkin,  and  Little  Dick.  This  rhyme  is  familiar 
to  most  of  us — 

Dance,  Thumbkin,  dance, 
"      Dance,  Thumbkin,  dance  ; 

Dance,  ye  merry  men  all  around. 
But  Thumbkin  he  can  dance  alone, 
-  Thumbkin  he  can  dance  alone. 

Face-rhymes,  too,  were  in  vogue.  Here  is  a  very  old 
one,  copied  from  the  same  source — 

Bo-peeper,  Nose-dreeper, 
Chin-chopper,  White  hopper, 
Red  rag,  And  little  gap. 

The  following  is  not  of  so  well  ascertained  an  antiquity, 
and  perhaps  may  not  reach  back  quite  to  Stuart  times — 

Brow  brinky,  Eye  winky, 
Chin  choppy,  Nose  noppy, 
Cheek  cherry,  Mouth  merry. 

We  can  quite  fancy  Mr.  Endymion  Porter,  Gentleman 
of  the  Bedchamber  to  King  Charles,  whose  delightful 
letters  afford  many  a  glimpse  into  domestic  life,  dandling 

1  Popular  Rhymes  and  Nursery  Tales.     Halliwell-Phillipps. 


8        HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

his  *  little  partridges,'  of  whom  he  writes  so  fondly,  to 
the  familiar  rhythm — 

This  is  the  way  the  ladies  ride  : 

Tri,  tre,  tre,  tree, 

Tri,  tre,  tre,  tree  ! 
This  is  the  way  the  ladies  ride  : 

Tri,  tre,  tre,  tri-tri-tri-tree  ! 

This  is  the  way  the  gentlemen  ride  : 
Gallop-a-trot, 
Gallop-a-trot ! 
ending  with 

This  is  the  way  the  farmers  ride : 
Hobbledehoy, 
Hobbledehoy ! 

Bo-peep  was  certainly  among  the  baby  games  of  a 
still  earlier  day,  for  the  rhyme  of  Little  Bo-peep  who 
lost  her  sheep  is  alluded  to  in  a  MS.  ballad  of  the  time 
of  Elizabeth  in  the  library  of  Corpus  Christi,  Cambridge, 
and  there  is  a  reference  to  it,  as  well  as  to  Little  Boy 
Blue,  in  King  Lear .^  '  Put  your  finger  in  foxy's  hole/ 
accompanied  by  catching  the  small  finger  in  a  clenched 
fist,  is  of  similar  antiquity;  so,  too,  is  the  see-saw  rhyme, 
tipping  the  child  up  and  down  by  his  arms — 

Titty  cum  tawty, 

The  duck 's  in  the  water  ; 

Titty  cum  tawty, 

The  geese  follow  after  ; 

the  last  word  probably  pronounced,  as  country-folk  still 
pronounce  it,  arter.  <  Higgory  Diggory  digg'd  '  is 
mentioned  in  1622  by  Taylor  the  water-poet ;  while 
'  Handy-pandy,  Jack-a-dandy,  which  good  hand  will 
you  have  ? '  is  as  old  as  Piers  Plowman.  '  Hey  diddle- 
diddle,  the  cat  scraped  the  fiddle,'  and  such  dear  old 
favourites  as  *  The  house  that  Jack  built '  and  '  Tom 
Tom  the  Piper's  Son,'  as  well  as  that  other  piper's  son 

1  Leart  Act  i.  4 ;  Act  iii.  6. 


THE  NURSERY  9 

Jock,  who  could  play  but  one  tune,  and  that  the  best  of 
all— <  For  all  the  tune  that  he  could  play,  was  over  the 
hills  and  far  away,'— all  these  belong  certainly  to  those 
ancient  days.  So,  too,  probably  does  '  Who  killed  Cock 
Robin?'  though  Mr.  Halliwell  Phillips  gives  a  com- 
paratively modern  version  of  this  time-honoured  ditty. 

As  '  A  Apple-pie '  is  referred  to  by  a  learned  divine, 
commenting  upon  a  sermon  in  the  year  1671,  I  think 
we  may  conclude  it  was  not  unknown  in  the  nursery  at 
least  fifty  years  earlier,  but  the  form  varies  slightly  from 
our  own.  It  runs  :  '  A  Apple  pasty,  B  Baked  it,  C  Cut 
it, '  with  other  trifling  changes.  Block  alphabets  were  but 
just  coming  in.  Sir  Hugh  Plat,  in  his  Jewell  House  of 
Art  and  Nature,  gives  'a  ready  way  for  children  to 
learn  their  A  B  C  '  :— 

i  Cause  four  large  dice  of  bone  or  wood  to  be  made, 
4  and  upon  every  square  one  of  the  small  letters  of  the 
'  cross  row  to  be  graven,  but  in  some  bigger  shape, 
'  and  the  child,  using  to  play  much  with  them,  and 
1  being  alwayes  told  what  letter  chanceth,  will  soon  gain 
'  his  alphabet,  as  it  were  by  the  way  of  sport  and 
'  pastime.' 

Hard  upon  the  alphabet  followed  the  sampler  for 
little  girls,  and  grievous  work  it  must  have  been  for 
baby  fingers  to  form  all  the  letters  of  the  criss-cross  row, 
and  all  the  numerals  in  cross-stitch  upon  open  canvas. 
No  wonder  that  some  little  maidens,  like  Lucy  Apsley, 
while  they  loved  their  book,  hated  their  needle.  When 
the  sun  was  shining  and  the  boys  playing  out  in  the 
garden,  it  was  hard  on  little  miss  to  have  to  sit  by  her 
nurse's  knee  pulling  her  long  thread  in  and  out,  and 
getting  cuffed  or  pinched  if  she  counted  her  stitches 
wrong. 

Severity  had  always  been  the  rule  in  Tudor  nurseries, 
and  was  only  beginning  to  relax  a  little,  thanks  chiefly 
to  the  example  in  royal  households.  King  James  was 
a  very  affectionate  father — almost  too  much  so,  since  he 


io      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

carried  on  his  petting  and  fondling  and  little  foolish 
names  till  *  Baby  Charles  '  was  a  man  grown  and  about 
to  seek  a  wife.  Charles  himself,  dignified  and  reserved 
as  he  was,  was  vecy  tender  to  his  children,  and  not  too 
grave  to  romp  and  play  with  them.  Discipline  was 
certainly  less  harsh  as  time  went  on  than  in  the 
beginning  of  the  century,  when  little  Elizabeth  Tanfield, 
the  heiress,  who  at  fifteen  years  old  was  married  to 
the  first  Lord  Falkland,  was  kept  in  strict  order  by 
her  mother,  and  always  spoke  to  her  upon  her  knees. 
This  lady's  daughter-in-law,  the  second  Lady  Falkland, 
was,  as  her  chaplain  records,  rather  weak  where 
her  children  were  concerned,  and  *  much  governed 
by  her  nursery.'  The  harshness  the  first  Lady 
Falkland  had  experienced  made  her  a  very  loving 
mother  to  her  own.  She  had  eleven  children,  and 
nursed  them  all  except  the  eldest,  who  was  taken  at  an 
early  age  by  his  grandfather.  Bookworm  though  she 
was,  she  was  very  careful  of  their  health  and  well-being, 
'  being  excessive  in  all  that  concerned  their  clothes  or 
'  recreations  ;  and  she  that  never  (not  in  her  youth) 
'  would  take  care  or  delight  in  her  own  fineness,  could 

*  apply  herself  to  have  too  much  care  and  take  pleasure 

*  in  theirs.'1     She  never  changed  the  servants  about 
them,  but  their  religious  training  she  kept  in  her  own 
hands,  though,  in  scrupulous  regard  to  her  husband's 
wishes,  she  refrained  from  instructing  them  in  any  of 
the  distinctive  tenets  of  her  own  church.     Her  lessons 
were  simple  and  elementary.      She  would   '  let  them 
<  know  when  they  loved  anything  that  they  were  to  love 
1  God  more  than  it,  that  He  made  it  and  them,  and  all 
'  things  ;   that  they  must  love  and  honour  Him  more 

*  than  their  father.     He  gave  them  their  father,  He  sent 

*  them  every  good  thing,  and  made  it   for  them  ;   the 
'  King  was  His  servant,  and  He  made  all  kings,  and 
'  gave  them  their  kingdoms.      If  they  would  be  good 

1  The  Lady  Falkland,  her  Life,  by  her  Daughter. 


THE  NURSERY  n 

'  He  would  give  them  better  things  than  any  they  had 
1  or  saw  here  :  and  so  for  the  rest.' 

She  taught  three  or  four  of  her  eldef 'children  herself, 
and  on  one  occasion  was  so  much  provoked  with  one  of 
the  little  boys  that,  being  rather  quick-tempered,  with 
an  oath  she  declared  she  would  whip  him.  '  He  was 
dreadfully  apprehensive  of  being  whipped,'  says  the 
sister  who  narrates  the  story  ;  and  his  mother,  relenting 
at  his  terror,  would  have  let  him  off,  but  his  baby 
conscience  was  so  disturbed  that  he  begged  of  her  '  to 
save  her  oath.'  She,  '  much  pleased  with  his  innocent 
'  care  for  her,  was  more  resolved  not  to  do  it,  but  he  so 

*  feared  her  being  forsworn  that  on  his  knees,  with  tears 

*  in  his  eyes,  he  continued  to  beg  that  which  he  trembled 
4  at ;  nor  was  there  any  other  way  to  satisfy  the  child 
<  but  by  whipping  him.'     This  would  be  very  charac- 
teristic of  Lucius  with  his  tender  conscience  and  self- 
forgetting  care  for  others,  but  it  was  more  probably 
Lorenzo,  the  second  boy,  as  Lucius  was  little  at  home 
in  his  childhood,  and  the  brothers  may  well  have  been 
alike  in  the  unselfish,  generous  nature  they  inherited 
from  their  mother. 

According  to  a  writer  in  a  recent  number  of  the 
A  thenceum,  the  phrase  *  to  kiss  the  rod '  had  a  more  than 
symbolic  significance  ;  the  little  culprit  after  a  whipping 
being  made  to  kiss  the  birch  or  apple-twig  with  which 
it  had  been  administered,  in  token  of  penitence  and 
submission.  This  view  is  certainly  borne  out  by  the 
lines  quoted  from  The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona — 

That,  like  a  testy  babe,  will  scratch  the  nurse, 
And  presently,  all  humbled,  kiss  the  rod. 

And  Herrick  has  a  similar  reference  in  the  '  Duty  to 
Tyrants  '  from  the  Hesperides — 

Good  children  kiss  the  rods  that  punish  sin. 
*  Spare  the  rod  and  spoil  the  child  '  was  a  maxim  almost 


12      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

universally  applied  with  greater  or  less  severity,  even 
with  very  young  children,  and  although  a  good  deal 
of  indulgence  seems  to  have  reigned  in  the  Verney 
household,  the  Puritan  eldest  son,  Ralph,  was  evidently 
strict  with  his  babies.  A  most  interesting  letter  is 
given  in  Lady  Verney's  charming  volume  from  Great- 
Grandmother  Denton  to  Ralph  about  his  little  Edmund, 
who  spent  a  good  deal  of  his  babyhood  with  her  at 
Hillesden.  He  appears  to  have  been  sent  from  her 
care  to  his  father  and  grandfather  in  London.  She 
writes  : — 

'  i  heare  he  is  disliked,  he  is  soe  strange.  Sonn  you 
'  did  see  he  was  not  soe,  nor  is  not  soe  to  any  whare 
4  he  is  a  quanted,  and  he  must  be  woone  with  fair 
'  menes.  Let  me  beg  of  you  and  his  mother  that 
'  nobody  whip  him  but  Mr.  Parrye  ;  if  you  doe  goe  a 
1  violent  waye  with  him  you  will  be  the  furst  that  will 
'  rue  it,  for  i  verily  beleve  he  will  reseve  ingery  by  it 

*  ...  inded,  Raphe,  he  is  too  yonge  to  be  strudgeled 
4  in  any  forsing  waye.     i  had  intelygence  your  father 

*  was  trobled  to  see  him  soe  strange,     i  praye  tel  him 
1  from  me  i  thoght  he  had  more  wit  then  to  thencke  a 

*  child  of  his  age  would  be  a  quanted  presently.     He 
'  knowes  the  childe  was  feloe  good  a  nofe  in  my  house. 
1  i  praye  shewe  him  what  i  have  writen  abought  him, 

*  and  be  shore  that  he  be  not  frited  by  no  menes :  he 
4  is  of  a  gentel  swete  nature,  sone  corrected.'1 

The  child  about  whom  this  was  written  was  not  quite 
three  years  old,  and  his  uncle  Edmund  wrote  of  him  : 
'  That  sweet  promising  countenance  of  your  pretty 
'  sonn  is  able  to  inspire  even  the  ignorant  with  such  a 
'  prophesying  spirit,  there 's  not  that  lineament  either 

*  in  his  face  or  body  but  prognosticates  more  for  itself 
'  then  we  can  doe  for  it.'     It  is  sad  to  find  that  this 
promising  boy,   delicate  and  nervous,   growing  up  in 
exile  and  motherless,  under  the  care  of  a  conscientious 

1   Verney  Memoirs. 


THE  NURSERY  13 

but  over-anxious  father,  developed  curvature  of  the 
spine,  with  a  moody,  languid  temperament,  and  seems 
to  have  had  a  most  unhappy  boyhood,  always  in  disgrace 
with  both  father  and  tutor. 

Another  letter  from  a  tender  grandmother,  Angela 
Porter,  to  her  son  Endymion,  is  worth  quoting  for  the 
charming  picture  it  gives  of  children  in  the  country. 

'  I  wish  you  could  see  me  sitting  at  the  table  with  my 

*  little  chickens,  one  on  either  side  ;  in  all  my  life  I  have 
'  not  had  such  an  occupation  to  my  content,  to  see  them 
1  in  bed  at  night  and  get  them  up  in  the  morning. 

'The  little  one  is  exactly  like  what  you  were  when 
'  you  were  of  his  age,  and  if  it  were  not  tiring  you,  I 
'  would  give  you  such  a  sermon,  but  I  take  up  too  much 
'  time  in  speaking  of  them. 

*  You  may  rest  assured  you  need  not  be  anxious  :  this 
'  situation  is  healthy,  and  no  care  that  can  be  bestowed 
'  upon  them  is  wanting  to  keep  them  in  health.  In 

*  reference  to  what  you  say  regarding  their  food,  you 
'  must    know  they   have    here    butter  and  cheese  in 
'  abundance.     They  have   also  very  good  cows ;  and 
'  before  the  children  came  they  killed  a  sheep  once  a 
'  week  and  sent  it  to  market,  for  beef  they  do  not  kill 
'  on  account  of  the  heat,  and  veal  and  lamb  sometimes 
'  they  buy  in  the  market ;  other  times  they  kill  when 
'  the   cows   breed.  ...   I  will   inform   you  respecting 
'  everything  ;  but  I  must  now  go  and  see  my  little  ones 

*  to  bed. 

'  The  Lord  bless  you,  and  allow  me  to  see  you  as  I 
'  would  wish. — Your  Mother,  ANGELA  PORTER.  M 

Endymion's  letters  to  his  wife  are  full  of  affectionate 
references  to  the  children  :  '  Send  me  word  how  my 
'  little  boys  do,  and  whether  Charles  will  be  black  or 
'fair.'  Again,  '  Kiss  my  little  partridges  for  me.' 

1  Letters  of  Mr.  Endymion  Porter,  Gentleman  of  the  Bedchamber  to  King 
Charles  I. ,  by  Dorothea  Townshend. 


14      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

Another  time  :  4 1  would  have  you  cut  George  his  hair 
4  somewhat  short,  and  not  to  beat  him  overmuch.  I 
4  hope  you  let  him  go  bareheaded,  for  otherwise  he 
4  will  be  so  tender  that  upon  every  occasion  you  will 
4  have  him  sick.' 

As  might  be  expected,  it  was  in  Puritan  households 
that  the  rod  found  most  favour,  as,  according  to  their 
view,  the  little  ones  were  children  of  wrath  until  their 
conversion,  and  required  to  have  the  devil  well  whipped 
out  of  them.  Milton  set  an  example  of  extreme  severity 
with  his  own  little  girls  as  well  as  with  his  two  nephews 
whom  he  brought  up,  and  one  of  the  grievances  of  his 
young  first  wife  was  that  she  could  not  bear  to  hear 
the  little  boys  cry  when  he  beat  them.  Still,  of  course, 
the  discipline  varied  according  to  temperament,  and  in 
some  homes  of  much  religious  strictness  the  children 
were  most  tenderly  dealt  with.  Lettice  Morrison,  who 
afterwards  became  the  wife  of  Sir  Lucius  Gary,  Lord 
Falkland,  seems  to  have  been  one  of  those  angelic 
infants  who  never  need  a  whipping.  Her  chaplain, 
in  his  little  memoir  of  her,  records :  4  She  came  not 
*  from  her  nurse's  arms  without  some  knowledge  of  the 
4  principles  of  the  Christian  religion.  While  she  was 
4  very  young  her  obedience  to  her  parents  (which  she 
4  extended  to  her  aunt,  who  had  some  charge  over 
4  her  in  her  father's  house)  was  very  exact,  and  as  she 
4  began,  so  she  continued  in  this  gratious  and  awful 
4  temper  of  duty  and  observance.'1 

But  even  this  wonderful  little  lady  was  eclipsed  by 
little  Mrs.  Apsley,  afterwards  the  wife  of  Colonel 
Hutchinson.  4  By  the  time  I  was  four  years  old,'  says 
she  in  her  memoirs,  4 1  could  read  English  perfectly, 
4  and  having  a  great  memory,  I  was  carried  to  sermons  ; 
4  and  while  I  was  very  young  I  could  remember  and 
4  repeat  them  exactly,  and  being  caressed,  the  love  of 

1  The  Holy  Life,  and  Death  of  Letice,  Vi- Countess  Falkland,  by 
T.  Duncan. 


THE  NURSERY  15 

6  praise  tickled  me  and  made  me  attend  more  heed- 
fully.'1 

The  portrait  of  Miss  Campion,  'aged  two  years  and 
two  months,'  prefixed  to  Andrew  Tuer's  History  of 
the  Horn-Book,  represents  her  holding  her  horn-book 
in  her  hand,  and  if  she  had  not  yet  mastered  it,  no 
doubt  she  was  becoming  familiar  with  her  criss-cross 
row.  Education  began  early  with  these  little  folk,  and 
the  nurse  was  the  first  instructor.  Betty  Verney's  nurse 
had  not  only  to  '  dres  hur,'  but  '  to  heare  hur  hur  booke, 
and  teche  hur  hur  worke,'  on  a  sampler,  probably. 
But  the  thorny  paths  of  education  must  be  reserved  for 
a  later  chapter. 

1  Memoirs  of  Colonel  Hutchinson,  by  Mrs.  Lucy  Hutchinson. 


CHAPTER   II 

CHILDREN'S  GAMES 

THE  solemn  little  people  who  stand  so  demure  and 
dignified  in  the  Vandyck  groups  do  not  look  as  if  they 
could  ever  have  played  :  the  petticoats  down  to  their 
toes,  the  stiff  stomachers  and  formal  little  lace  caps  and 
mittens  must  have  been  most  unsuited  for  a  romp. 
Even  the  satin  doublet  and  breeches,  the  silk  stockings 
and  buckled  shoes  with  roses,  the  wide  lace  collar  and 
plumed  hat,  though  less  inconvenient  than  the  long 
petticoats  of  the  very  little  boys,  would  hardly  lend 
themselves  to  rounders  or  baseball.  It  must  be  remem- 
bered, however,  that  company  manners  and  company 
clothes  were  no  doubt  donned  for  sitting  to  the  great 
Court  painter.  This  was  not  their  nursery  garb — in  all 
probability  that  consisted  of  a  holland  smock  or  overall. 
There  is  an  entry  in  one  of  Mrs.  Porter's  tailor's  bills 
for  six  holland  coats  which  cost  a  guinea  to  make,  in- 
cluding '  fustian  and  tape  to  them.'1  One  hopes  these 
may  have  been  for  the  little  Porters  to  wear  when  they 
played  in  the  garden. 

Dolls,  however,  were  not  incompatible  with  fine 
clothes,  and  the  portrait  of  the  Lady  Arabella  Stuart  as 
a  little  girl  represents  her  with  her  doll  in  a  red  dress, 
made  in  the  fashion  of  the  day,  in  her  arms.  Dolls  are 
occasionally  mentioned,  too,  in  the  annals  of  the  time. 
That  terrible  little  prig,  Mrs.  Lucy  Apsley,2  records  of 
herself :  '  Play  among  other  children  I  despised,  and 

1  Letters  of  Mr.  Endymion  Porter ,  by  Mrs.  Townshend. 

2  Memoirs  of  Colonel  Hutchinson. 
16 


CHILDREN'S  GAMES  17 

*  when  I  was  forced  to  entertain  such  as  came  to  visit 

*  me,  I  tired  them  with  more  grave  instructions  than 
<  their  mothers,  and  plucked  all  their  babies  to  pieces, 
'  and  kept  the  children  in  such  awe  that  they  were  glad 

*  when  I  entertained  myself  with  other  company.'     No 
wonder !     Imagine  the  feelings  of  a  little  girl  at  seeing 
her  beloved  doll  dissected,  that  Mistress  Lucy  might 
demonstrate  to  her  the  folly  of  lavishing  endearments 
on  an  inanimate  bundle  of  rags  ! 

What  we  may  call  the  elementary  toys  are  of  an 
antiquity  as  great  as  that  of  tables  and  stools  ;  the 
beginning  is  lost  in  the  mist  of  ages.  A  ball,  of 
course,  is  an  obvious  toy  that  would  suggest  itself  to 
any  child,  and  might  have  been  played  with  before  the 
flood.  The  old  rhyme  of  St.  Hugh  of  Lincoln  repre- 
sents him  as  playing  ball — 

He  tossed  the  ball  so  high,  so  high, 

He  tossed  the  ball  so  low, 
He  tossed  the  ball  in  the  Jews'  garden, 

And  the  Jews  were  all  below. 

/Drums  and  hobby-horses  are  mentioned  by  Bishop 
Earle  ;  whips  and  tops  are  at  least  as  old  ;  hoops  may 
have  been,  but  I  am  not  aware  of  any  reference  to  them, 
or  any  picture  in  which  they  appear  earlier  than  the 
next  century.  There  is  no  record  of  boxes  of  soldiers 
nor  of  little  pewter  tea-sets,  but  the  woods  afforded 
plenty  of  playthings,  as  they  do  still,  and  no  doubt 
the  children  of  that  day,  unspoilt  by  the  possession  of 
mechanical  toys,  were  inventive  enough  to  provide 
themselves  with  little  regiments  of  whittled  sticks  or 
furnish  the  dolls  with  complete  sets  of  acorn  cups  to 
drink  dew  out  of.  There  is  something  so  archaic  about 
the  shapes  of  men  and  animals  in  a  Noah's  Ark,  I 
am  inclined  to  attribute  great  antiquity  to  it,  and  am 
surprised  not  to  have  met  with  any  mention  of  one. 
Perhaps  some  antiquary  can  throw  light  on  the  subject. 

B 


i8      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

Children  are  such  conservatives  it  is  not  wonderful 
that  the  same  games  should  have  been  handed  down 
from  Jacobean  nurseries  to  our  own  day,  or  if  not  quite 
to  our  own, — since  nowadays  nothing  but  dancing 
seems  to  be  appreciated,  and  games  are  voted  old-fash- 
ioned,— to  a  time  within  the  memory  of  many  of  us. 
Hide-and-seek  has  gained  an  historic  dignity,  having 
contributed  to  the  escape  of  the  Duke  of  York  from 
St.  James's,  where  he  and  his  brother  and  sister  were 
in  the  Duke  of  Northumberland's  custody.  The  game 
lent  itself  admirably  to  the  plot,  which  shall  be  detailed 
in  a  future  chapter. 

Drop-cap  was  a  game  we  know  as  Drop  the  Hand- 
kerchief, and  was  not  improbably  the  origin  of  the 
expression  'set  her  cap  at  him,'  as  the  player  drops 
the  cap  at  the  feet  of  the  one  she  wishes  to  chase  her. 
Barley  Bridge  seems  to  have  been  an  earlier  form  of 
Oranges  and  Lemons,  and  is  thus  described  by  Mr. 
Halliwell-Phillipps  r1  'A  string  of  boys  and  girls,  hold- 
'  ing  to  each  other's  skirts,  approaches  two  others,  who 

*  with  joined  and  elevated  hands  make  an  arch.     The 

*  dialogue  runs — 

'  How  many  miles  to  Barley  Bridge  ? ' — 

'  Three  score  and  ten.' 
'  Can  I  get  there  by  candle-light  ?  '— 

'  Yes,  if  your  legs  be  long.' 
'  A  curtsey  to  you,  and  a  curtsey  to  you, 
If  you  please,  will  you  let  the  King's  horses  through?' — 

1  Through  and  through  shall  they  go 
For  the  King's  sake, 

But  the  one  that  is  hindmost 

Shall  meet  with  a  great  mistake.' 

'  Whereupon,  clapping  down  their  arms,  they  catch  if 
<  they  can  the  last  of  the  tail  before  they  can  run 
1  through.'  He  omits,  however,  the  end  of  the  game, 
which  must  surely  have  been  an  original  part  of  it. 

1  Popular  Rhymes  and  Nursery  Tales. 


CHILDREN'S  GAMES  19 

When  all  have  been  caught  and  equally  divided,  each 
prisoner  being  put  behind  one  of  the  two  who  form  the 
archway,  holding  fast,  not  by  the  skirts  but  by  the 
waist,  they  pull,  like  tug-of-war  without  a  rope,  to  get 
one  side  or  the  other  across  a  mark  laid  or  chalked 
upon  the  ground.  In  my  day,  and  probably  from 
early  times,  this  was  done  to  the  tune  of 

Oranges  and  lemons,  said  the  bells  of  St.  Clement's, 
Lend  me  five  shillings,  said  the  bells  of  St.  Helen's. 
When  will  you  pay  me  ?  said  the  bells  of  Old  Bailey  ; 
When  I  grow  rich,  said  the  bells  of  Shoreditch. 
When  will  that  be?  said  the  bells  of  Stepney  ; 
I'm  sure  I  don't  know,  said  the  great  bell  of  Bow. 

Hunt  the  Ring  survives  as  Hunt  the  Slipper,  but 
Honey  -  pots  probably  came  in  later  with  Perrault's 
Tales  from  the  East,  which  were  only  published  in 
1697.  How  and  when  *  Here  we  go  round  the  bramble- 
bush  '  got  changed  into  the  mulberry-bush  it  is  impos- 
sible to  say.  Probably  for  the  sake  of  the  rhythm  the 
children  took  to  saying  blackberry-bush,  and  mulberries 
were  so  much  in  fashion  in  the  reign  of  King  James, 
and  the  fruit  not  unlike  in  appearance,  that  the  change 
must  have  crept  in  ;  but  the  mulberry  is  certainly  not 
a  bush,  and  much  exercises  the  minds  of  country-bred 
infants  who  know  the  difference.  The  modern  version 
has  'On  a  cold  and  frosty  morning,'  but  the  earliest 
form,  '  At  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,'  would  not  have 
been  remarkable  in  a  time  when  people  habitually  did 
get  up  at  that  early  hour  to  'wash  their  clothes'  and 
1  bake  their  bread,'  and  even  those  who  had  no  menial 
tasks  to  perform  would  not  have  dreamed  of  lying  in 
bed  till  nearly  the  middle  of  the  day  and  only  coming 
down  to  a  nine-thirty  breakfast. 

It  is  interesting  to  notice  how  many  games  reflect  the 
history  of  the  times.1  Tom  Tidier  on  the  Friar's  Ground 
evidently  dates  from  the  Reformation  and  the  Great 

1  Popular  Rhymes,  by  Halliwell-Phillipps. 


20      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

Pillage,  and  the  ascendency  of  the  Puritans  brought 
into  fashion  many  games  scoffing  at  the  old  religious 
practices,  such  as  the  shadow-game  with  first  finger 
and  thumb  muffled  in  a  handkerchief  and  bobbing  to 
each  other  with  *  Father,  father,  I  Ve  come  to  confess.* 
I  have  forgotten  the  dialogue,  but  it  ends  with  '  What 
penan'  do  ? ' — '  To  kiss  me,  to  kiss  me,  to  kiss  me  ! ' 
snapping  finger  and  thumb  together.  Still  more  shock- 
ing was  it  that  children  should  have  been  encouraged 
to  play  at  Hocus-pocus  with  its  blasphemous  mockery 
of  the  Hoc  est  Corpus,  teaching  children  to  ridicule  the 
most  sacred  mysteries  of  religion.  On  the  other  hand, 
Little  Jack  Horner  who  sat  in  a  corner  was  undoubtedly 
intended  as  a  satire,  though  a  very  harmless  one,  on 
the  Puritan  aversion  to  Christmas  pudding  and  sense  of 
conscious  virtue. 

Many  of  the  children's  rhymes  similarly  carry  their 
date  in  their  subject.     For  instance — 

My  father  he  died,  I  cannot  tell  how, 

But  he  left  me  six  horses  to  drive  to  my  plough, 

With  a  wimmy  lo  !  wommy  lo  !  Jack  Straw  Blazey  boys, 

Wimmy  lo  !  wommy  lo  !  wob,  wob,  wob  ! 

This  manifestly  points  to  the  Jack  Straw  rebellion  under 
Richard  n. 

I  had  a  little  nut-tree,  and  nothing  would  it  bear, 
But  a  golden  nutmeg  and  a  silver  pear. 
The  King  of  Spain's  daughter  came  to  visit  me, 
All  for  the  sake  of  my  little  nut-tree  ; 

is  thought  to  be  suggested  by  the  visit  of  Joan  of  Castile 
in  1506  to  the  court  of  Henry  vn. 

The  King  of  France  went  up  the  hill 
With  twenty  thousand  men, 

is  supposed  by  James  Howell,  in  one  of  his  Familiar 
Letters,  to  refer  to  Henry  iv.,  who  just  before  his  death 
had  collected  a  huge  army  and  a  mountain  of  treasure 
in  the  Bastille ;  but  as  it  is  alluded  to  in  an  old  tract  of 


CHILDREN'S  GAMES  21 

1642,  which  is  called  Pigge's  Coranto,  and  is  there 
ascribed  to  Tarlton  the  jester,  who  died  in  1588,  it 
must,  says  Mr.  Halliwell-Phillipps,  have  been  written 
earlier. 

The  following  sadly  closes  the  period  of  which  this 
book  treats — 

As  I  was  going  by  Charing  Cross 
I  saw  a  black  man  upon  a  black  horse  ; 
They  told  me  it  was  King  Charles  the  First, 
Oh  dear  !  my  heart  was  ready  to  burst ! 

Many  of  the  old  rhymes  and  tales  are  quoted  in  plays 
or  ballads  of  the  seventeenth  century,  showing  them  to 
have  existed  earlier.  '  There  was  a  lady  loved  a  hogge ' 
is  found  in  an  unpublished  play  of  the  time  of  Charles  i. 
in  the  Bodleian  Library  ;  and  *  To  market,  to  market, 
to  buy  a  plum  bun '  is  quoted  in  Florio's  New  World 
of  Words  in  1611.  <  Sing  a  song  of  sixpence'  is  men- 
tioned by  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  and  Mr.  Halliwell- 
Phillipps  discovered  an  ancient  version  of  '  The  Carrion 
Crow '  in  a  MS.  of  the  time  of  Charles  i. 

Superstition  was  of  course  rife  in  the  nursery  as 
elsewhere.  *  Rain,  rain,  go  to  Spain  J  is  referred  to 
by  Aubrey  in  his  Miscellanies  as  a  child's  custom  of 
great  antiquity.  Sayings  relating  to  February  are 
many — 

Candlemas  Day,  Candlemas  Day, 
Half  your  wood,  and  half  your  hay, 

showing  that  then,  as  now,  the  2nd  of  February  was 
practically  the  middle  of  the  winter.  Similarly 

Round  the  house,  and  round  the  house, 
And  there  lies  a  white  glove  in  the  window, 

suggesting  the  prevalence  of  snow.     Also 

February  Fill-the-dyke, 
Be  it  black  or  be  it  white  ; 
But  if  it  be  white 
It's  the  better  to  like. 


22      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

Then  there  were  curious  ancient  beliefs  about  birds — 

The  robin  and  the  wren  are  God  Almighty's  cock  and  hen  ; 
The  martin  and  the  swallow  are  God  Almighty's  bow  and  arrow. 

No  child  of  that  day  would  have  dared  to  molest  the 
nest  of  either.  The  familiar  birds  all  had  Christian 
names  :  Madge  the  magpie,  Jenny  Wren,  Tommy  Tit, 
and  Jacob  the  starling.  The  wood-pigeons  then,  as 
now,  always  said  'Take  two  coos,  Taffy,  take  two  o-o.' 
There  is  a  curious  little  verse  given  in  Nursery 
Rhymes,  already  so  much  quoted  from,  on  the  child's 
favourite,  the  little  scarlet  pimpernel  or  shepherd's 
weather-glass. 1 — 

Herbe  pimpernell,  I  have  thee  found 
Growing  upon  Christ  Jesus'  ground  : 
The  same  gift  the  Lord  Jesus  gave  to  thee 
When  He  shed  His  blood  on  the  tree. 
Arise  up,  pimpernell,  and  go  with  me, 
And  all  that  shall  weare  thee. 

Of  still  greater  antiquity  probably  is  the  following — 

Four  corners  to  my  bed, 
Four  angels  round  my  head  : 
One  to  watch  and  one  to  pray 
And  two  to  bear  my  soul  away. 
Matthew,  Mark,  Luke  and  John, 
Bless  the  bed  that  I  lie  on. 

This  is  found  under  many  forms,  and  lingers  still  tradi- 
tionally in  country  districts. 

Little  boys  were  as  fond  then  as  now  of  making  ducks 
and  drakes.  The  old  rhyme,  *  A  duck  and  a  drake,  and  a 
halfepenie  cake/  is  quoted  in  an  English  version,  pub- 
lished in  1652,  of  the  work  by  Minutius  Felix.  '  Pea- 
pod  hucks,  twenty  for  a  pin,'  suggests  games  of  keeping 
shop.  Such  rude  little  rhymes  as 

Give  a  thing,  and  take  a  thing, 
To  weare  the  divell's  gold  ring; 


Popular  Rhymes,  by  Halliwell-Phillipps. 


CHILDREN'S  GAMES  23 

or 

Tell-tale,  tit ! 
Thy  tongue  shall  be  slit, 
And  every  dog  in  the  town 
Shall  have  a  little  bit, 

mentioned  in  1632,  may  well  have  been  used  among 
the  young  Porters  at  Woodhall  when  in  a  quarrelsome 
mood,  or  by  the  little  Boyles  at  Lismore.  These  latter 
were  extremely  good  children,  but  their  sister  Mary  was 
rather  a  wilful  young  woman  and  her  father's  pet,  and 
when  she  spent  her  holidays  at  home  she  may  not 
improbably  have  called  forth  such  candid  expressions 
of  brotherly  opinion. 

Entertaining  books  written  on  purpose  for  young 
people  did  not  yet  exist,  but  the  children  had  no  lack 
of  imaginative  amusement.  Not  a  nurse  of  those  days 
but  possessed  a  goodly  store  of  the  old  nursery  tales 
always  at  her  tongue's  end,  and  when  the  pedlar  came 
his  ever-welcome  round,  delightful  novelties  might 
come  out  of  his  maund :  chapbooks  with  coarsely 
coloured  woodcuts,  and  sometimes  gruesome  tales  and 
ballads  printed  on  broad-sheets  at  great  but  never 
wearisome  length,  and  welcome  to  old  and  young  alike. 
There  was  all  the  Robin  Hood  cycle,  the  story  of  Guy 
of  Warwick  and  the  Danish  giant,  Chevy  Chace  and 
the  tales  of  King  Arthur  and  his  Table  Round.  There 
was  Sir  Patrick  Spens  and  '  My  love  he  built  me  a 
bonny  bower,'  and  the  ever-loved  Babes  in  the  Wood,  to 
say  nothing  of  Old  King  Cole,  that  merry  old  soul.  No, 
surely  the  children  of  that  day  were  not  to  be  pitied. 

They  certainly  had  Jack  and  the  Beanstalk,  since, 
though  the  tale  was  not  printed  till  1711,  that  hero  was 
of  Saxon  origin,  as  was  also  Tom  Thumb.  Edgar  in 
King  Lear  alludes  to  the  latter,  and  also  to  *  Childe 
Roland  to  the  dark  tower  came.'1  Although  Puss  in 
Boots,  Red  Ridinghood,  and  Cinderella  only  make 

1  Lear,  Act  iii.  4. 


24      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

definite  appearance  in  print  in  Perrault's  Tales  in  1697, 
it  is  probable  that  the  oral  tradition  of  them  existed 
much  earlier,  and  very  likely  the  originals  of  some  of 
the  Eastern  tales,  such  as  Blue-beard  and  Beauty  and 
the  Beast,  may  have  been  brought  to  England  by  the 
Crusaders  long  before.  The  Red  Bull  of  Norroway 
seems  to  contain  a  hint  of  the  latter.  It  is,  indeed, 
delightful  to  recognise  our  old  friend  Miss  Peck  with 
Henny-penny  and  Cocky-locky  in  the  ancient  tale  of 
Hen-len,  Chicken-licken,  Drake-lake,  etc.,  who  all 
got  eaten  up  by  Fox-lox  when  they  were  on  their 
way  to  tell  the  king  that  the  skies  had  fallen.  Trans- 
lations of  JEsop,  too,  were  not  unknown  in  the  nursery, 
for  a  very  little  later  John  Locke,  in  his  Thoughts  on 
Education,  recommends  that  ^sop's  Fables  and  Rey- 
nard the  Fox  should  be  used  as  reading-books  rather 
than  that  children  should  be  kept  always  to  Horn-book 
and  Psalter,  that  they  might  be  led  by  curiosity  rather 
than  driven  by  the  rod. 

How  much  we  should  like  to  know  which  were  the 
tales  told  by  Nurse  Fudd  to  little  Jack  Verney  when  he 
was  left  in  her  charge  at  desolate  Claydon  during  the 
years  of  his  parents'  exile !  Undoubtedly  they  were 
very  moral  ones,  he  grew  up  such  a  very  good  boy.  At 
ten  years  old,  when  left  in  charge  of  another  nurse  in 
France,  he  wrote  to  his  father  that  he  would  study  his 
book,  and  take  pains  with  his  guitar,  and  never  spend 
his  money  in  '  frute '  nor  gunpowder,  nor  play  with 
naughty  street  boys,  nor  stand  about  at  the  fair  when 
the  sun  is  hot,  nor  eat  cherries,  nor  ever  disoblige  the 
best  of  fathers.1  And  his  nurse  endorses  his  good 
character  :  <  Mr.  John  hath  keept  his  clothes  in  so  good 
'  order,  I  have  not  had  to  buy  anything  for  him  :  next 
4  weecke  I  will  send  him  againe  to  scholle,  allthough  wee 
'  are  great  gainers  by  his  sober  company.'  What  were 
the  little  songs  he  sang  so  '  prettely '  to  his  mother  in 

1   Verney  Memoirs. 


CHILDREN'S  GAMES  25 

the  sad  days  at  Claydon  ?  A  Song  of  Sixpence,  perhaps, 
or  Little  Boy  Blue,  or  he  may  have  sung  of  his  name- 
sake, Little  Jack  Horner. 

Well,  these  are  the  things  we  can  never  know,  but 
only  dimly  fancy,  as  we  may  picture  to  ourselves  the 
games  which  that  sweet  little  pair  of  play-fellows, 
Kenelm  Digby  and  Venetia  Stanley,  amused  themselves 
with — exciting  rescues  of  a  fair  princess  from  a  dragon 
by  the  prowess  of  St.  George,  most  likely,  for  they  were 
a  romantic  little  pair,  and  developed  into  precocious 
little  lovers.  This  is  Sir  Kenelm's  record  of  that  play- 
time, written  in  maturer  years  : — 

'  The  very  first  time  that  ever  they  had  sight  of  one 
4  another  they  grew  so  fond  of  each  other's  company 
(  that  all  that  saw  them  said  assuredly  something  above 

*  their  tender  capacity   breathed    this    sweet    affection 
1  into  their  hearts.     They  would  mingle  serious  kisses 
'  among   their    innocent    sports :    and   whereas    other 

*  children  of  like  age  did  delight   in   fond   plays  and 
'  light  toys,  these  two  would  spend  the  day  in  looking 
'  upon  each  other's  face,  and  in   accompanying  these 
'  looks  with  gentle  sighs,  which  seemed  to  portend  that 
1  much  sorrow  was  laid  up  for  their  more  understanding 
4  years  ;  and  if  at  any  time  they  happened  to  use  such 
1  recreations  as  were  sortable  to  their  age,  they  demeaned 
4  themselves  therein  so   prettily  and   so   affectionately 

*  that  one  would  have  said  Love  was  grown  a  child 
'  again,  and  took  delight  to  play  with  them.'1 

The  little  maiden  was  three  years  older  than  her 
baby  lover,  but  he  was  a  big  boy  for  his  age,  beautiful, 
clever,  and  imaginative.  Both  children  lived  in  the 
shadow  of  a  great  grief,  and  it  probably  made  them 
grave  beyond  their  years.  When  Kenelm  was  but 
three  years  old  his  father,  Sir  Everard  Digby,  died  on 
the  scaffold,  accused  of  complicity  with  the  Gunpowder 
Plot,  and  he  lived  with  his  widowed  mother  and  little 

1  Sir  Kenelm  Digby,  by  one  of  his  descendants. 


26       HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

brother  at  Gothurst,  an  estate  of  her  own  which  had 
been  recovered  from  sequestration  by  the  influence  of 
her  family.  The  little  Venetia  had  been  motherless 
from  her  babyhood,  and  her  father  in  his  distress  for 
the  loss  of  his  young  wife  '  retired  himself  to  a  private 
'  and  recollected  life  where,  without  the  troubles  that 
1  attend  upon  great  fortunes,  he  might  give  free  scope 
1  to  his  melancholic  fantasies.'  His  daughter's  educa- 
tion meanwhile  was  entrusted  to  a  kinswoman  at 
Euston  Abbey,  which  was  not  very  far  from  Gothurst, 
so  she  and  her  little  friend  met  frequently  till  she  was 
taken  back  to  her  father. 

Another  little  love-affair  that  ended  in  a  less  romantic 
manner  is  told  of  the  childhood  of  Marmaduke  Rawdon, 
who  later  became  an  eminent  wine  merchant.  It  is  thus 
related: — '  Beinge  about  12  yeares  of  age,  before  he 

*  knew  what  love  was,  he   fell    in   love  with  a  yonge 
'  gentlewoman,  the  daughter  of  one  Mr.  Michael  Stan- 
'  hop,  who  was  much  about  his  owne  yeares  ;  he  courted 
'  hir   highly   after    his   childish   way,    and    did    much 

*  delight  in  hir  company,  and  she  in  his.     Hir  brother, 

*  Mr.  George  Stanhop,  beinge  his  scholfellow,  he  had 
'  the  opertunitie  to  see  hir  often,  and  to  play  with  hir 

<  brother  in  the  gardens  and  orchards,  and  she  would 
1  come  and  be  amongst  them  ;   and  uppon  a  time  he 
'  had  a  minde  to  show  Mrs.  Susan,  for  soe  the  yonge 
i  gentlewoman  was  called,  what  fine  cracking  sqibs  he 
1  could   make  ;    so  he  and   3  or  4  boyes  more  of  his 

*  consorts  had  gott  some  quantitie  of  powder,  and  putt 
4  itt  in  one  of  the  boyes  hatts  ;  Mr.  Rawdon  goinge  to 
1  give  fire  to  the  cracking  squib,  itt  would  not  att  first 
'  goe  off ;  soe  Mr.  Rawdon  fell  a  blowinge  of  itt,  and 
'  the  boy  with   the    hatt  of   powder  came   nere    Mr. 

*  Rawdon  to  see  what  was  the  matter  that  itt  would  not 
1  goe  of,  when  of  a  sudden  itt  went  of,  and  some  sparks 

<  flew  into  the  hatt  of  powder  and  blew  up  the  fore  part 
4  of  Mr.  Rawdon's  clooths,  burnt  his  band  and  his  face, 


CHILDREN'S  GAMES  27 

'  and  his  clooths  still  burning  about  him,  which  one 
'  Marabel,  a  maid  of  the  howse,  seeinge,  took  a  kittle 
'  full  of  water,  which  she  had  new  hunge  on  the  fire, 
'  and  was  yett  cold,  and  soe  quencht  the  fire  of  his 

*  clooths,  which  otherwayes  would  have  gone  nere  to 
(  have    spoyled   him  ;    some   of  the   other   boyes    had 

*  some  little  hurt,  and  some  cornes  of  powder  in  thir 
'  faces,  and  all  of  them  left  Mr.  Rawdon  and  ran  away, 
1  publishing  in  several  parts  of  the  cittie  this  accidental 
'  mischance,   which    quickly    arrived    att    his    father's 

*  howse,  soe  a  servant  was  sent  away  presently  to  Mr. 
'  Stanhop's  to  see  what  the  matter  was,  who  finding 
4  him  in  that  sad  condition  took  him  in  his  armes,  wrapt 
4  his  clooke  over  him,  and  carried  him  home  ;  when  he 
'  came  home,  he  was  laid  uppon  a  pallet-bed,  his  heade 
<  sweld  as  big  as  tow  heades,  and  his  eielids  seemingly 
'  burnt   up   to   the   great  griefe    of    his   parents,    who 
'  presently   sent    for   the    most    eminent    docters    and 

*  surgeons  of  the  cittie,  who  consultinge  togeather  did 

*  apply  those  things  that  were  most  convenient  for  him. 

*  His  mouthe  was  soe  burnt  up  that  his  mother  was  in 
1  great  care  how  to  feede  him,  but  he  hearinge  hir  in 
'  that  perplexitie,  made  signes  for  a  sukingbottle  with 
4  which   he  was    nurisht   till   his  mouthe  grew  better. 
'  He  lay  nine  days  blinde  without  anie  sight  att  all,  and 
4  then  began  to  see  a  little,  and  in  a  monthe's  time  a 

*  fresh  skin  came  over  his  face,  the  swellinge  downe, 
'  and  he  as  well  as  if  he  had  noe  hurt  att  all.' 1 

The  love  seems  to  have  been  burned  up  with  the  eye- 
lashes, for  Mrs.  Susan  never  reappears  in  history. 

Notices  of  children  from  the  pens  of  their  elders 
are  tantalisingly  infrequent.  Here,  however,  is  a  brief 
mention  of  Robin,  the  second  Lord  Leicester,  nephew 
of  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  written  by  the  steward,  Rowland 
White,  to  his  master  at  Flushing  in  the  year  1600.  He 
writes  from  Windsor,  just  after  St.  George's  Feast : — 

1  Memoirs  of  Marmaduke  Rawdon. — Camden  Society. 


28      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

*  I  brought  up  Mr.  Robert  when  the  knights  were  at 

*  dinner,   who  played  the  wag  so  prettily  and  boldly 

*  that  all  took  pleasure  in  him,  but  above  the  rest  my 

*  Lord  Admiral,  who   gave   him    sweetmeats,  and   he 
'  prated  with  his  Honour  beyond  measure.' 

Still  more  charming  is  Endymion  Porter's  descrip- 
tion of  King  Charles  playing  with  the  Villiers  children.1 
After  the  Duke  of  Buckingham's  death,  the  king  paid 
his  debts  and  took  his  children,  not  merely  officially  as 
wards  of  the  Court,  but  to  be  brought  up  with  his  own. 
Mary  the  eldest — < pretty  sweet  Moll,'  as  she  was  called— 
had  been  contracted  almost  in  her  babyhood  to  the  son 
of  the  Earl  of  Montgomery  ;  but  the  youthful  bride- 
groom dying  a  year  or  two  later,  the  little  maiden 
found  herself  a  widow  at  nine  years  old.  Regardless 
of  the  dignity  of  her  widow's  weeds,  she  must  needs  one 
day  climb  a  tree  in  the  garden  to  help  herself  to  the 
fruit.  The  king,  walking  with  Mr.  Porter,  espied  the 
flutter  of  a  black  veil  among  the  branches,  and  declared 
there  was  some  very  strange  bird  up  in  that  tree  :  Mr. 
Porter  must  fetch  his  gun  and  bring  it  down.  As  he 
approached  the  tree  with  his  weapon  he  was  greeted  with 
a  shower  of  fruit.  *  Alas,  madam  ! '  said  he,  looking  up 
and  seeing  the  laughing  eyes  peering  through  the 
leaves  at  him,  '  what  shall  I  do  ?  for  I  have  promised 
to  kill  you  and  bring  your  feathers  to  the  king ! ' 
*  You  must  be  as  good  as  your  word,  of  course,' 
answered  little  madam,  entering  into  the  joke  ;  and  she 
bade  a  gardener  who  was  near  bring  a  large  fruit 
hamper,  into  which  Mr.  Porter  packed  her  and  shut 
down  the  lid,  and  he  and  the  gardener  carried  her 
between  them  to  his  Majesty's  feet.  *  Here,  Sire,  is  the 
bird,  which  I  have  had  the  good  fortune  to  take  alive,' 
said  Mr.  Porter,  and  lifted  the  lid,  when  out  sprang 
Lady  Mary  and  flung  her  arms  round  the  king's  neck 
with  no  more  ceremony  than  if  he  had  been  a  playfellow 
of  her  own  age. 

1  Letters  of  Mr.  Endymion  Porter. 


CHILDREN'S  GAMES  29 

To  his  own,  Charles  was  the  tenderest  of  fathers. 
There  are  few  more  touching  pages  of  history  than  those 
in  which  Sir  Thomas  Herbert,  Gentleman  of  the  Bed- 
chamber to  the  King  during  his  captivity,  relates  how 
he  took  leave  of  the  only  two  he  was  able  to  see  on  the 
eve  of  his  execution. 

1  Morning  being  come,  the  Bishop  was  early  with  the 

*  King,  and  after  Prayers  his  Majesty  broke  the  Seals 
4  open,  and  shew'd  them  what  was  contain'd  in  it ;  there 

*  were  Diamonds  and  Jewels,  most  part  broken  Georges 
6  and  Garters.     You  see  (said  he)  all  the  Wealth  now 

*  in  my  Power  to  give  my  two  Children.     Next  day 
<  Princess  Elizabeth,  and  the  Duke  of  Gloucester,  her 
'  Brother,  came  to  take  their  sad  Farewel  of  the  King 
4  their  Father,  and  to  ask  his  Blessing.     This  was  the 

*  29th  of  Jan.     The  Princess  being  the  elder,  was  the 
4  most  sensible    of  her  Royal   Father's  Condition,    as 
4  appear'd  by  her  sorrowful  Look  and  excessive  weep- 
4  ing  ;  and  her  little  Brother  seeing  his  Sister  weep,  he 
1  took  the  like  Impression,   though  by  reason  of  his 
4  tender  Age  he  could  not  have  the  like  Apprehension. 
4  The  King  raised  them  both  from  off  their  Knees  ;  he 
4  kiss'd  them,  gave  them  his  Blessing,  and  setting  them 

*  on  his  Knees,  admonish'd  them  concerning  their  Duty 
4  and  Loyal  Observance  to  the  Queen  their  Mother,  the 

*  Prince  that  was  his  successor,  Love  to  the  Duke  of 
4  York  and  his  other  Relations.     The  King  then  gave 
4  them  all  his  Jewels,  save  the  George  he  wore,  which 
1  was  cut  in  an  onyx  with  great  Curiosity,  and  set  about 
4  with  21  fair  Diamonds,  and  the  Reverse  set  with  the 

*  like  Number ;   and  again   kissing  his  Children,  had 
4  such  pretty  and  pertinent  Answers  from  them  both,  as 
4  drew  Tears  of  Joy  and  Love  from  his  Eyes  ;  and  then 

*  praying  God  Almighty  to  bless  'em,  he  turned  about, 
1  expressing   a   tender  and   fatherly  Affection.      Most 
1  sorrowful  was  this  Parting,  the  young  Princess  shed- 
1  ding  Tears   and    crying    lamentably,   so    as    mov'd 


30      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

*  others  to  Pity,  that  formerly  were  hard-hearted  ;  and 
4  at  opening  the  Bed-Chamber  Door,  the  King  return'd 
1  hastily  from  the  Window  and  kiss'd  'em  and  bless'd 
4  'em  ;  so  parted. ' 1 

1  Memorials  of  the  Last  Days  of  King  Charles,  by  Sir  Thomas  Herbert. 


CHAPTER   III 

SOME   LESSON-BOOKS 

SCHOOL-DAYS  began  early  perforce :  these  children  1  \d 
not  much  time  to  waste,  since  the  serious  business  of 
life  came  so  soon.  It  was  no  uncommon  thing  for  a 
girl  to  be  married  at  thirteen,  and  a  boy  usually  pro- 
ceeded from  school  to  the  university  at  sixteen  at  the 
latest,  often  as  early  as  twelve.  John  Evelyn  records  in 
his  diary,  i  I  was  not  initiated  into  any  rudiments  until 
I  was  four  years  of  age,'  as  though  that  were  con- 
sidered quite  late  to  begin  ;  and  Miss  Campion,  as  we 
have  already  observed,  entered  on  the  study  of  her 
Horn-book  at  two  years  old.  Evelyn  must,  however, 
have  been  an  intelligent  and  observant  child,  for  he 
goes  on,  *  and  then  one  Frier  taught  us  at  the  church 
*  porch  at  Wotton  ;  and  I  perfectly  remember  the  great 
'  talk  and  stir  about  il  Conde  Gundamar,  Ambassador 
i  from  Spain  (for  near  about  this  time  was  the  match 
4  of  the  Prince  with  the  Infanta  proposed)/  It  argues 
some  precocity  for  a  child  of  that  age  to  have  been  in- 
terested in  any  such  thing.  More  natural  was  Anthony 
Wood's  earliest  recollection  of  being  taken  to  see  the 
King,  Queen,  and  Prince  Rupert  make  their  entry  into 
Oxford  from  Woodstock  in  the  year  1636,  when  he  was 
four  years  old.  He  saw  them  riding  down  Fish  Street 
into  Christchurch  Quad,  and  a  brave  show  it  must  have 
been  on  a  fair  August  morning.  No  wonder  he  did  not 
forget  it. 

He  probably  learned  the  Horn-book  at  home  with  his 

31 


32      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

mother,  for  he  says  that  at  five  years  old  he  was  put  to 
school  to  learn  the  Psalter,  and  two  years  later  '  he  was 
in  his  Bible,  and  ready  to  go  to  his  accedence.' l  Next 
year,  being-  now  eight,  he  was  sent  to  a  Latin  school,  of 
which  his  most  vivid  recollection  was  that  the  master 
used  to  be  conducted  by  a  beadle  with  a  silver  staff  to 
preach  a  Latin  sermon  at  St.  Mary's.  Next  year  he 
was  removed  to  New  College  School,  and  a  few  years 
later  he  and  his  brother  were  sent  to  a  school  at  Thame, 
where  they  boarded  in  the  vicarage.  His  school-days 
there  were  distracted  by  continual  alarms  of  war,  for 
Thame  lay  on  the  road  to  Oxford,  and  was  the  scene 
of  perpetual  marches  and  counter-marches,  with  an 
occasional  skirmish.  Lessons  must  have  suffered. 

To  return  to  little  John  Evelyn  :  soon  after  his  lessons 
in  the  church  porch  he  was  sent  to  his  grandfather  and 
grandmother  at  Lewes.  '  It  was  not  till  the  year  1628,' 
he  says  (being  then  eight  years  old)  '  that  I  was  put  to 

*  learn  my  Latin  rudiments,  and  to  write  of  one  Citolin, 
4  a  Frenchman  in  Lewes.     I  was  put  to  scoole  to  a  Mr. 

*  Potts,  in  the  Cliffe  at  Lewes  ;  and  in  1630  from  thence 

*  to  the  Free-schole  at  Southover   neere  the  town,   of 
'  which  one  Agnes  Morley  had  been  the  Foundresse, 
i  and  now  Edward  Snatt  was  the  master,  under  whom 

*  I  remained  till  I  was  sent  to  the  university.'     The 
next  year   he    began    his   journal.      *  In    imitation   of 
'  what  I  had  seen  my  father  do,  I  began  to  observe 
1  matters  more  punctually,  which  I  did  use  to  set  downe 
'  in   a  blanke  almanac.'      The  year  after,  his    father 
wished  to  send  him  to  Eton,  but,  says  he,  '  I  was  so 
'  terrified  at  the  report  of  the  severe  discipline  there  that 

*  I  was  sent  back  to  Lewes,  which  perverseness  of  mine 

*  I  have  a  thousand  times  deplored.'     He  did  not  leave 
school    till    he  was  seventeen,  which  he  mentions  as 
most  unusual. 

He  was  determined  that  his  own  son  should  not  suffer 

1  Athena  Oxonienses,  by  Anthony  Wood. 


SOME  LESSON-BOOKS  33 

from  a  like  remissness,  and  he  was  a  prodigy  of  learn- 
ing at  four  years  old,  being  only  just  five  when  he 
died.  The  story  of  his  amazing  precocity  must  be  told, 
although  it  properly  belongs  to  a  period  a  few  years 
later  than  that  under  consideration.  His  father  says  of 
him  : — 

<  At  two  yeares  and  a  halfe  old  he  could  perfectly 
1  reade  any  of  the  English,  Latine,  French  or  Gottie 
'  letters,  pronouncing  the  three  first  languages  exactly. 
1  He  had  before  his  fifth  yeare,  or  in  that  yeare,  not 
'  only  skill  to  read  most  written  hands,  but  to  decline 
'  all  the  nouns,  conjugate  the  verbs  regular  and  most 
1  of  the  irregular ;  learn 'd  out  Puerilis,  got  by  heart 

*  almost  the  entire  vocabularie  of  Latine  and   French 

*  primitives  and  words,  could  make  congruous  syntax, 
1  turne  English  into  Latine,  and  vice  versa,  construe  and 
1  prove  what  he  read,  and  did  the  government  and  use 
'  of  relatives,  verbs,  substantives,  elipses,    and   many 
'  figures  and  tropes,  and   made  considerable  progress 

*  in  Comemus'sfanua  ;  began  himself  to  write  legibly, 
<  and  had  a  stronge  passion  for  Greeke.    The  number  of 
'  verses  he  could  recite  was  prodigious,  and  what  he 
1  remember'd  of  the  parts  of  playes,  which   he  would 
'  also  act ;  and  when  seeing  a  Plautus  in  one's  hand, 
'  he  ask'd  what  booke  it  was,  and  being  told  it  was 
'  Comedy  and  too  difficult  for  him,  he  wept  for  sorrow. 

1  Strange  was  his  apt  and  ingenious  application  of 
'  fables  and  morals,  for  he  had  read  ^Esop  ;  he  had  a 
'  wonderful  disposition  to  mathematics,  having  by  heart 
'  divers  propositions  of  Euclid  that  were  read  to  him  in 
4  play,  and  he  would  make  lines  and  demonstrate  them. 

*  As  to  his  piety,  astonishing  were  his  applications  of 
'  scripture  upon  occasion,  and  his  sense  of  God  ;  he  had 
'  learn'd  all  his  Catechisme  early,  and  understood  the 

*  historical  part  of  the  Bible  and  New  Testament  to  a 
'  wonder,  how  Christ  came  to  redeeme  mankind,  and 

*  how  comprehending  these  necessaryes  himselfe,  his 

c 


34      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

*  godfathers  were  discharged  of  their  promise.     These 
'  and  the  like  illuminations  far  exceeded   his  age  and 

*  experience,  considering  the  prettinesse  of  his  addresse 
4  and  behaviour,  cannot  but  leave  impressions  in  me  at 
'  the  memory  of  him.     When  one  told  him  how  many 
'  dayes  a  Quaker  had  fasted,   he  replied  that  was  no 
'  wonder,  for  Christ  had  said  man  should  not  live  by 

<  bread  alone,  but  by  the  Word  of  God.     He  would  of 
4  himselfe  select  the  most  pathetic  psalms  and  chapters 
'  out  of  Job,  to  reade  to  his  mayde  during  his  sicknesse, 

<  telling  her  when  she  pitied  him  that  all  God's  children 

*  must   suffer   afflictions.      He   declaimed   against  the 
'  vanities  of  the  world  before  he  had  seen  any.     Often 
'  he  would  desire  those  who  came  to  see  him  to  pray  by 
1  him,  and  a  yeare  before  he  fell  sicke,  to  kneel  and  pray 

*  with   him   alone   in   some  corner.      How  thankfully 
'  would  he  receive  admonition,  how  soon  be  reconciled ! 
'  how  indifferent,  yet  continualy  chereful !     He  would 
'  give  grave  advice  to  his  brother  John,  beare  with  his 
'  impertinencies,   and  say  he  was  but  a  child.     If  he 
'  heard  or  saw  .any  new  thing,  he  was  unquiet  till  he 
'  was  told  how  it  was  made  ;  he  brought  to  us  all  such 
'  difficulties  as  he  found  in  books  to  be  expounded.    He 

*  had  learn'd  by  heart  divers  sentences  in  Latine  and 
'  Greeke,  which  on  occasion  he  would  produce  even  to 
'  wonder.     He  was  all   life,    all   prettinesse,   far  from 

*  morose,  sullen,  or  childish  in  any  thing  he  said  or  did. 

*  The  last  time  he  had  been  at  church  (which  was  at 
1  Greenwich),  I  asked  him,  according  to  costome,  what 
1  he   remembered   of    the   sermon  ;    two  good   things, 
1  father,    said   he,    bonum    gratice    and    bonum  gloria^ 
'  with  a  just  account  of  what  the  preacher  said.     The 
1  day  before  he  died   he  cal'd  to  me,  and    in   a  more 
'  serious  manner  than  usual  told  me  that  for  all  I  loved 
'  him  so  dearly  I  should  give  my  house,  land,  and  all 
'  my  fine  things  to  his  brother  Jack,  he  should  have 
'  none  of  them  ;  the  next  morning,  when  he  found  him- 


ixotinto  tcmpU 
ftorn 


HORN  BOOK.— 17TH  CENTURY. 


THE  BATEMAN  HORN-BOOK 


SOME  LESSON-BOOKS  35 

4  selfe  ill,  and  that  I  persuaded  him  to  keepe  his  hands 
4  in  bed,  he  demanded  whether  he  might  pray  to  God 
4  with  his  hands  unjoyn'd  ;  and  a  little  after,  whilst  in 
4  great  agonie,  whether  he  should  not  offend  God  by  using 
4  his  holy  name  so  often  calling  for  ease.  What  shall 
1  I  say  of  his  frequent  pathetical  ejaculations  utter'd  of 
4  himselfe  ;  Sweete  Jesus  save  me,  deliver  me,  pardon 

*  my  sinnes,  let  thine  angels   receive   me !     So  early 

*  knowledge,  so  much  piety  and  perfection  !     But  thus 
4  God    having  dress'd    up  a    Saint    fit   for    himselfe, 

*  would  not  longer  permit  him  with  us,  unworthy  of  the 
4  future  fruits  of  this  incomparable  hopefull  blossome. 

*  ...  In  my  opinion  he  was  suffocated  by  the  women 
4  and  maids  that  tended  him,  and  cover'd  him  too  hot 
4  with  blankets  as  he  lay  in  a  cradle,  near  an  excessive 
1  hot  fire  in  a  close  roome.    I  suffer'd  him  to  be  opened, 
4  when  they  found  that  he  was  what  is  vulgarly  called 
4  liver-growne. ' 

Poor  baby !  forced  in  brain  as  well  as  in  body — no 
wonder  he  did  not  survive.  But  he  was  a  prodigy,  and 
must  not  be  taken  as  typical  of  the  time  he  lived  in. 

In  those  days,  when  children  were  quite  as  destructive 
as  they  are  now,  and  books  far  scarcer  and  dearer,  the 
elements  of  knowledge  were  protected  from  ill-usage  by 
being  mounted  upon  an  oblong  piece  of  wood  with  a 
handle  like  a  battledore,  the  front  protected  by  a  thin 
sheet  of  transparent  horn  bound  round  with  brass,  and 
the  equipment  was  completed  by  a  straw,  long  pin  or 
quill  called  a  fescue,  and  used  as  a  pointer.  The  Horn- 
book usually  contained  the  Paternoster  ;  the  alphabet, 
large  and  small,  sometimes  both  black-letter  and  Roman ; 
a  set  of  syllables — a,  b,  ab  ;  b,  a,  ba,  etc. — and  in  some 
cases  numerals.  The  alphabet  began  and  ended  with  a 
cross,  hence  the  children  called  it  the  criss-cross  row. 
Copies  for  writing  were  often  mounted  in  the  same  way, 
but  without  a  handle,  in  a  tablet  shape,  to  prop  up  or 
lay  upon  the  table. 


36      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

Mr.  Andrew  Tuer,  in  his  most  thorough  and  exhaus- 
tive History  of  the  Horn-book,  gives  full  descriptions 
and  some  most  curious  facsimiles  of  Horn-books  of  the 
time  of  which  I  write.  Some  extra  handsome  ones 
were  backed  with  stamped  leather,  with  a  picture  usually 
of  the  reigning  sovereign.  One  which  he  gives  bore  an 
equestrian  portrait  of  Charles  n.,  and  two  are  described 
which  had  been  found  at  Ashby  Green,  Bucks — one  of 
the  time  of  James  i.,  one  of  Charles  i.,  which  were  both 
shown  at  the  Caxton  Exhibition.  They  were  at  about 
this  date,  he  says,  hawked  about  by  the  *  paultrie 
pedlar '  or  chapman,  together  with  ballads,  chapbooks, 
almanacs,  books  of  news,  and  other  trifling  wares  in  a 
long  parcel  or  maund,  which  he  carried  for  the  most 
part  open  and  hanging  from  his  neck  before  him. 
Horn-books  must  have  been  very  tempting  for  use  as 
battledores,  and  it  may  be  feared  offered  to  the  hand  of 
the  exasperated  teacher  a  convenient  weapon  for  ad- 
ministering a  box  on  the  ear  to  an  idle  little  dunce. 
Tradition  mentions  horn-books  made  of  gingerbread — 
whether  they  existed  at  this  time  it  is  difficult  to  say 
positively  ;  but  since  Shakespeare  alludes  to  ginger- 
bread husbands,  it  is  highly  probable  that  they  did  ; 
and  it  must  have  been  an  immense  incentive  to  learning 
to  be  told  you  might  eat  your  criss-cross  row  when 
you  had  mastered  it.  These,  however,  certainly  missed 
the  aim  of  durability,  and  it  is  no  wonder  they  only 
survive  in  a  mention  of  wares  to  be  got  at  country  fairs. 

The  Horn-book  was  of  course  the  earliest  schoolbook 
used.  A  woodcut  in  Hornbye's  Horn-book^  published 
in  1622,  depicts  a  schoolboy  standing  at  a  table  between 
the  knees  of  the  master,  who,  wearing  a  long  furred 
gown,  big  ruff,  and  steeple-crowned  hat,  sits  in  an 
elbow  chair,  pointing  to  the  letter  B  with  a  fescue.  On 
the  table  lie  a  book  with  strings,  an  ink-pot,  a  bundle 
of  pens,  and  a  birch-rod  suggestively  ready  to  hand. 
In  1608  the  Horn-book  was  set  to  music  in  the  old 


HORNB'YES 

HORTSIBOOK. 

Judge  not  t03.rajbljt  till  through  nil  yon  look? ; 
If  nothing  the&doth  flea  ft  yon  jbur veil  e  Booke* 


Printed  by  dug.  •  Math*  for 
ioldat  hisfliopinihcmitl^lc 


FACSIMILE  OF  TITLE-PAGE  TO  HORNBYE'S  HORN-BOOK 


SOME  LESSON-BOOKS  37 

notation,  beginning  '  Christe's  Crosse  be  my  speede,  In 
all  vertue  to  proceed.'  Then  followed  the  alphabet, 
ending,  in  order  to  fill  up  the  measure,  with  'Tittle, 
'  tittle,  est  Amen.  When  you  have  done  begin  againe, 
'  begin  againe.'1 

A  primer  was  published  in  1636  by  one  Edward 
Coote,  Master  of  the  Free  School  at  Bury  St.  Edmund's, 
entitled 

<  The  English  Schoole-M aster : 

'Teaching  all  his  schollers,  of  what  age  soever,  the 
'  most  easie,  short,  and  perfect  order  of  distinct  Reading 
'  and  true  Writing  our  English-tongue  that  hath  ever 
'  yet  been  known  and  published  of  any.' 

Mr.  Coote  professes  to  have  so  dealt  with  hard 
words  that  'any  unskilful  person  may  understand  and 
'  use  them  aptly,  ...  so  that  he  which  hath  this 
'  book  onely  needeth  to  buy  no  other  to  make  him  fit 
'  from  his  letters  unto  the  Grammar  Schoole,  for  an  ap- 
*  prentice,  or  any  other  his  private  use,  so  farre  as 
'  concerneth  English.'  In  the  next  page  the  'Schoole- 
'  Master  hangeth  foorth  his  Table  to  the  view  of  all 
'  beholders,  setting  foorth  some  of  the  chief  commodities 
'  of  his  Profession.'  He  undertakes  'to  teach  thee  that 
'  art  utterly  ignorant  to  read  perfectly,  to  write  truely, 
'  and  with  judgment  to  understand  the  reason  of  our 
'  English-tongue,  with  great  expedition,  ease,  and 
(  pleasure.' 

In  the  preliminary  directions  to  the  teacher  the 
author  discusses  methods  of  spelling,  deciding  that 
some  variation  is  allowable,  since  learned  men  are  not 
always  agreed  as  to  the  correct  derivation  of  certain 
words.  This  is  a  licence  most  letter-writers  of  that 
day  availed  themselves  of  very  freely,  frequently  spelling 
the  same  word  in  three  or  four  different  ways  in  the 
course  of  one  letter.  Women  especially  were  remark- 

1  History  of  the  Horn-book ,  by  Andrew  Tuer. 


38      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

ably  untrammelled  by  any  rules  of  orthography — some 
spelt  almost  phonetically,  others  ran  into  much  em- 
broidery of  unnecessary  letters.  The  system  (or  want 
of  system)  had  its  advantages :  there  is  as  much 
character  in  seventeenth-century  spelling  as  there  is  in 
handwriting.  Most  readers  must  be  grateful  to  the 
editor  of  the  Verney  Memoirs  for  having  preserved  the 
original  spelling — so  much  character  comes  out  in 
Ralph's  precise,  unvarying  method,  his  wife's  pains- 
taking care  diversified  by  little  quaintnesses  of  her  own, 
the  untutored  licence  of  the  neglected  girls,  and  Lady 
Sussex's  cool  defiance  of  all  rules.  Anne  Halkett,  too, 
spells  in  a  characteristic  way,  quite  consistently,  and  in 
a  cultivated  manner,  but  with  certain  little  occasional 
redundancies.  But  this  is  a  long  digression,  and  we 
must  return  to  Mr.  Coote.  He  decides  that  the  teacher 
must  set  a  limit  to  these  vagaries,  and  gives  specimens 
of  the  permissible  and  the  unpermissible. 

The  children  were  to  be  divided  into  four  classes, 
according  to  their  capacity.  In  case  parents  object  to 
the  expense  of  the  book,  '  as  a  little  yonge  childe  would 
soon  teare'it,'  the  early  pages  have  been  framed  by 
the  printer  as  a  horn-book,  containing  black-letter, 
Roman  character,  italics,  and  double  letters  ;  numerals 
also  and  syllables.  These  are  followed  by  sentences  in 
rhyme  beginning  with  easy  words  of  one  syllable,  as 

<  Ah,  it  is  so,  he  is  my  foe.'     In  the  second  chapter  the 
rudimentary  b,  a,  ba  is  expanded  into  bab,  bad,  bar, 
bat,  bay.      Next  come  connected  sentences  forming  a 
sort  of  little  tale,  as— 

<  Boy,  go  thy  way  to  the  top  of  the  hill,  and  get  me 

*  home  the  bay  nag.     Fill  him  well  and  see  he  be  fat, 
'  and  I  will  rid  me  of  him,  for  he  will  be  but  as  dull  as 

*  his  dam.     If  a  man  bid  well  for  him  I  will  tell  him  of 
4  it ;  if  not  I  do  but  rob  him,  and  God  will  vex  me,  and 
'  may  let  me  go  to  hell  if  I  get  but  a  jawbone  of  him 

<  ill.' 


SOME  LESSON-BOOKS  39 

Then  come  rules  of  pronunciation,  with  explanations 
of  words  which  are  something  alike  but  not  the  same, 
as  mill — mile,  hid — hide,  etc.  Grammar  is  introduced 
gradually  in  dialogue  form,  and  is  followed  by  the  first 
rules  of  arithmetic,  copies  for  writing,  and  a  brief 
chronology  'for  practice  in  hard  words,  and  to  know 
Latin  authors  by  name.'  Lastly,  there  is  a  Catechism 
of  Religion,  very  lengthy,  and  containing  decidedly 
more  Puritan  doctrine  than  was  ever  admitted  into  the 
Church  of  England.  The  rules  for  religious  observance 
are  somewhat  lax  ;  forms  of  private  prayer  for  morning 
and  evening  are  given,  and  very  long  graces  before  and 
after  meat.  Metrical  psalms  for  learning  by  heart 
follow,  and  the  book  concludes  with  a  glossary  of  hard 
words  and  a  specimen  of  black-letter. 

The  copy  of  this  book  which  is  preserved  in  the 
British  Museum  bears  marks  of  having  been  well 
thumbed,  as  the  early  pages  are  much  more  brown  and 
worn  away  at  the  corners  than  the  more  advanced  ones. 
The  children  who  used  it  have,  moreover,  scribbled  their 
names  again  and  again  in  the  margin,  as  idle  children 
to  this  day  love  to  do.  Frank  occurs  many  times  over, 
also  Elizabeth,  Anne,  and  Richard.  On  the  fly-leaf  is 
written  '  Can  any  one  tell  what  age  i  look  ? '  and  just 
below,  'soe  wan,  soe  pale.'  How  vainly  we  speculate  as 
we  turn  the  faded,  discoloured  pages,  and  try  to  picture 
to  ourselves  the  children  who  toiled  over  its  hard  words, 
thumbed  its  corners,  or  idly  scribbled,  getting  rapped 
over  the  knuckles  in  all  probability  for  so  doing  ! 

The  boy  was  now  'ready  to  go  into  his  accedence,' 
as  Anthony  Wood  puts  it,  and  would  probably  use 
Lilly's  grammar  and  Farnaby's  edition  of  the  classics, 
which  were  in  use  in  most  Grammar  Schools ;  or  he 
might  begin  with  the  Janua  Linguarum  Reserata  by 
Comenius,  the  book  in  which  little  Richard  Evelyn  had 
made  such  good  progress.1  Comenius,  or  Komensky, 

1  The  Child  and  his  Book,  by  L.  M.  Field. 


40      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

was  a  Moravian  who  had  been  forced  to  leave  Bohemia 
during  the  troubles  of  the  Thirty  Years'  War,  became 
a  schoolmaster  at  Lissa,  and  wrote  many  educa- 
tional works,  as  well  as  the  mystical  ones  by  which 
his  name  is  better  known.  He  came  to  England 
just  before  the  outbreak  of  the  Rebellion,  on  the 
invitation  of  Hartlib,  the  friend  of  Milton,  and  became 
acquainted  probably  with  Milton  himself,  certainly  with 
Evelyn  and  with  Lord  Herbert  of  Cherbury.  Besides 
The  Gate  of  Tongues,  his  Didactica  Magna  and  Orbis 
Pictus,  the  latter  '  illustrated  by  cuts  to  entice  witty 
children  by  pictures/  were  much  used  in  English 
schoolrooms. 

In  those  days,  when  Latin  was  the  common  tongue 
of  the  learned,  boys  were  expected  to  talk  together  in 
Latin  as  girls  nowadays  speak  French  at  school,  and 
Hoole  about  this  time  edited  The  School  Colloquies  of 
Corderius,  in  which  imaginary  conversations  between 
schoolboys  are  given  in  parallel  columns  of  Latin  and 
English.  They  are  entirely  familiar,  though  of  course 
in  a  highly  moral  vein — the  naughty  boy  dog's-ears  his 
book,  throws  it  at  his  neighbour,  and  pawns  it  for 
threepence,  while  the  good  boy  reprobates  his  conduct 
in  so  doing.  School  hours  were  long,  as  we  gather 
from  Mr.  Peacham's  Compleat  Gentleman,  in  which  he 
compares  the  English  custom  with  the  foreign  in  this 
respect,  greatly  to  the  advantage  of  the  latter.  From 
six  in  the  morning  till  twelve  or  past  was  the  English 
custom,  according  to  him,  and  he  considered  '  the  taskes 
'  too  long  and  heavie.  At  Andwerpe,  Utrecht,  or 
'  Breda,'  says  he,  "after  the  lecture  the  scholler  leaueth 
'  the  schoole  for  an  hour,  and  walketh  abroad  with  one 
'  or  two  of  his  fellows,  either  into  the  field  or  up  among 
'  the  trees  upon  the  ram  pier,  where  they  conferre  and 
'  recreate  themselves  till  time  calls  them  in  to  repeate, 
1  when  perhaps  they  stay  an  hour ;  so  abroad  againe, 
'  and  thus  at  their  pleasure  the  whole  day/ 


\ 


SOME  LESSON-BOOKS  41 

His  book,  though  dedicated  to  his  little  pupil,  Mr. 
William  Howard,  third  son  to  the  Earl  of  Arundel,  one 
of  the  most  accomplished  gentlemen  of  his  time,  is,  at 
any  rate  in  the  early  chapters,  addressed  rather  to 
parents  and  tutors.  The  former  he  exhorts  against 
4  cockering  and  apish  indulgence/  also  against  a  false 
economy  in  the  matter  of  tutors.  *  Many,'  he  remarks, 
6  are  satisfied  if  they  can  procure  some  poor  Batchelor 
'  of  Art  from  the  Universitie  to  teach  their  children, 
'  say  grace,  and  serve  the  Cure  of  an  impropriation,  .  .  . 

*  who  will  be  content  with  ten  pounds  a  year  at  his  first 
1  coming,  to  be  pleased  with  five  ;  the  rest  to  be  set  off 
4  in  hope  of  the  next  advowson.     Most  gentlemen  will 
'  give  better  wages  and  deale  more  bountifully  with  a 
'  fellowe  who  can  teach  a  Dogge  or  reclaim  an  Hawke, 
'  than  with  an  honest,  learned,  and  well  qualified  man 
'  to  bring  up  his  children.' 

Mr.  Peacham  is  equally  unsparing  on  'the  humour 
and  folly  of  some  pedagogues,'  especially  on  their 
addiction  to  the  rod.  What  would  the  modern  school- 
boy say  to  this? — *  One  in  winter  would  ordinarily  on  a 
'  cold  morning  whip  his  boyes  over  for  no  other  purpose 

*  but  to  heat  himself.'     A  chilly  schoolmaster  must  have 
been  a  trial  under  those  circumstances.      '  Correction 
without  instruction  is  plain  Tyrannic,'  says  he  a  little 
further  on.     He  also  deprecates  violent  language  ;  such 
epithets    as    '  blockheads,    asses,    dolts,   which    deeply 
pierceth  the  free  and  generous  spirit.'     Commendation 
is  more  to  be  used  than  abuse.     Discrimination  must  be 
exercised  :    '  the  self-same  method  agreeth  not  with  all 
alike ;     the    duller  want    helping    most,'   whereas   the 
tutor  is  too  apt  to  bestow  more  attention  on  the  quick, 
whom  he  '  culs  out  to  admiration  as  a  Costard-monger 
his  fairest  pippins.' 

The  grammar  he  recommends  is  Lilly's,  as  most  in 
use ;  but  whatever  the  text-book,  the  foundation  of 
education  must  be  solidly  laid  in  the  understanding  of 


42      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

grammar,  '  every  rule  made  familiar  and  fast  by  short 
and  pleasant  examples.'  This  done,  *  by  little  and 
'  little  raise  the  frame  of  a  strong  and  well-knit  style 

*  both  in  writing  and  speaking.'     Latin  is  to  be  trans- 
lated   into    English,   and   English   into    Latin.      The 
remainder  of  his  treatise  on  education  may  be  more 
properly  considered   when  we  come  to   speak  of  the 
university,  and  it  will   be  interesting  to  compare  his 
views  with  those  of  Lord  Herbert,  who  had  his  own 
scheme  of  culture.     We  may  in  this  place  quote  the 
opinion  of  the  latter  on  what  a  child  should  learn  : — 

4  After  the  alphabet  is  taught,  I  like  well  the  shortest 

*  and  clearest  grammars,  and  such  books  into  which 
'  the  Greek  and  Latin  words  are  severally  contrived,  in 
'  which  kind  one  Comenius  hath  given  us  an  example. 
1  This  done,  it  would  be  much  better  to  proceed  with 
'  Greek  authors  than  with  Latin  ;  for  as  it  is  as  easy  to 

*  learn  at  first  the  one  as  the  other,  it  would  be  much 
1  better  to  give  the    first  impressions    into  a  child's 
'  memory  of  those  things  which  are  more  rare  than 
'  usual ;   therefore  I  would  have  them  begin  at  Greek 
'  first,  and  the  rather  that  there  is  not  that  art  in  the 
'  world  wherein  the  Greeks  have  not  excelled  and  gone 
1  before  others ;  so  that  when  you  look  upon  Philosophy, 

*  Astronomy,    Mathematics,   Medicine,   and   briefly  all 
'  learning,  the  Greeks  have  exceeded  all  nations.' 1    This 
seems  rather  putting  the  cart  before  the  horse,  according 
to  modern  views,  but  there  is  something  to  be  said  for 
it,  and  Lord  Herbert  was  somewhat  of  what  is  commonly 
called  a  crank. 

Arithmetic  was  not  taught  '  according  to  Cocker '  till 
a  little  later,  for  his  book  was  not  published  till  1660 ; 
however,  he  already  kept  a  school  on  the  south  side  of 
St.  Paul's  churchyard,  and  probably  himself  taught  on 
the  same  methods  he  afterwards  gathered  into  his  hand- 
book. It  is  pleasant  to  know  that  i  Multiplication  is 

1  Autobiography  of  Lord  Herbert  of  Cherbury. 


SOME  LESSON-BOOKS  43 

vexation  '  was  as  familiar  to  the  tongues  of  schoolboys 
of  that  generation  as  of  this,  and  they  also  learned  the 
days  of  the  month  by  the  rhyme 

Thirty  days  hath  September, 
April,  June,  and  November ; 
February  hath  twenty-eight  alone, 
And  all  the  rest  have  thirty-one, 
But  leap-year,  coming  once  in  four, 
Gives  to  February  one  day  more.1 

An  interesting  letter  from  James  Gibb,  tutor  to  Mr. 
Endymion  Porter's  boys,  to  Mr.  Harvey  the  steward, 
gives  an  account  of  the  progress  of  his  pupils.  He 
writes  from  Woodhall,  a  country  house  belonging  to  a 
brother  of  Mrs.  Porter's  who  was  imbecile,  in  conse- 
quence of  which  the  Porters  took  charge  of  the  estate 
and  were  glad  to  use  it  as  a  country  home  for  their 
children,  since  Endymion's  post  in  attendance  on  the 
king  kept  him  constantly  in  town,  and  his  house  in  the 
Strand,  although  in  those  days  the  gardens  were  large 
and  ran  right  down  to  the  river,  was  not  considered 
healthy  : — 

1  MR.  HARVEY — 

'  This  is  to  bid  you  welcome  to  London  again,  and 

*  to  give  you  notice  that  I  had  and  have  a  great  resent- 

*  ment  of  the  misfortune  of  not  seeing  you  at  Woodhall 
4  passing  by.     Here  we  are  all  alone,  and  apply  our- 
'  selves  to  our  books  diligently,  and  so  much  the  better, 
4  by  how  much  less  distraction  we  find  and  farther  we 

*  are  from  London.     I   hope  to  make  Mr.   Philip  my 
'  maisterpiece  according  as  he  proceeds  with  me  and 
1  takes  Learning.     I  have  already  shewed  his  father  the 

*  profit  he  hath  made  to  his  great  satisfaction  and  joy, 

*  of  one  yt  could  scarce  read  a  word  in  English  when 
4  I  first  undertook  him.    This  I  speak  without  any  exag- 
'  geration  or  desire  to  arrogate  more  to  myself  than 

1  The  Child  and  his  Book. 


44      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

4  many  that  know  it  will  give  me.  His  Father  told  us 
i  we  should  shortly  be  going  over  sea,  but  I  fear  it  will 
4  not  be  before  next  spring.  I  should  be  very  sorry  to 

*  come  to  London  to  teach  him  in  the  interim,  for  the 

*  many  occasions  of  divertment  that  daily  present  them- 
1  selves.     So  that  I  mean  to  write  to  mi  Senor  to  know 
'  his   intention   shortly,   and   if  we   go   not  away  this 
'  winter,  that  he  would  please  let  us  live  in  the  country 
'  far  enough  with  some  friend  or  other  of  his.     But  this 
'  with  you  alone  and  under  seal.     What  you  please  to 
i  advise  me  I  shall  be  glad  to  follow. 

'  As  for  Mr.  Charles,  no  great  matter  could  be  worked 
'  with  him  ;  wherefore  I  should  urge  some  settled  course 
'  should  be  thought  on  for  him.' l 

A  little  French  letter  written  by  Philip  at  seven  years 
old  to  his  elder  brother  shows  him  to  have  been  an 
intelligent  child,  but  after  all  he  did  not  turn  out  a 
4  maisterpiece,'  whereas  the  idle  Charles  grew  up  the 
best  of  all  the  Porter  boys,  and  died  a  soldier's  death 
for  the  king,  lamented  and  well  spoken  of  by  every 
one. 

A  letter  of  his  written  to  his  mother  when  he  was 
about  fifteen,  and  was  in  disgrace  for  some  fault,  shows 
a  great  sweetness  of  disposition,  and  also  in  its  simplicity 
contrasts  with  the  formal  style  of  most  sons  to  their 
parents  at  that  day 2  :— 

*  DEAR  MOTHER — 

*  I  have  received  your  letter,  in  which  I  under- 
'  stand  that  my  father  and  you  are  very  angry  with  me, 
'  which  hath  troubled  me  not  a  little  to  think  that  I 

*  should  deserve  any  anger  at  either  of  your  h [torn 

i  off]  the  ways  that  possibly  can  be  to  retain  your  loves 
'  will  do  my  endeavour  to  mend  any  fault  you  accuse 

*  me  of.     Therefore  I  beseech  you,  sweet  Mother,  not 

1  Letters  of  Mr.  Endymion  Porter.  2  Ibid. 


SOME  LESSON-BOOKS  45 

*  to  let  your  anger  continue,  for  it  is  the  only  thing  I 
'  desire  to  shun  in  the  world.     I  am  extremely  glad  to 
'  hear  that  my  little   brother  Tom  proveth  so   fine  a 
'  child,  and  that  my  nurse  and  you  are  friends  again  : 

*  I  pray  you  let  it  last  both  with  her  and  me. — Your 
'  dutiful  and  obedient  son,  CHARLES  PORTER.' 


CHAPTER   IV 

PUBLIC   SCHOOLS 

FOR  many  centuries  already  the  essentially  English 
system  of  education  founded  by  William  of  Wykeham 
at  Winchester  had  flourished,  and  in  the  great  public 
schools  the  flower  of  English  youth  was  being  trained 
in  manners  and  sound  learning.  The  five  leading 
schools  of  the  day  were  Winchester,  Eton,  West- 
minster, St.  Paul's,  and  Merchant  Taylors'.  Christ's 
Hospital,  which  had  been  originally  instituted  for 
foundlings,  educated  at  this  date  rather  a  different 
class,  and  had  not  risen  to  the  position  it  was  later 
to  occupy.  In  almost  every  town  of  consequence,  and 
in  many  small  country  places,  was  a  Grammar  School, 
either  of  ancient  foundation  or  entirely  refounded  during 
the  Reformation,  set  up  as  a  salve  to  conscience  out  of 
the  spoils  of  the  Church,  and  to  supply  to  some  degree 
the  place  of  the  monastic  and  cathedral  schools  which 
were  then  destroyed.  The  custom  of  naming  these 
'  King  Edward's  schools '  has  caused  to  grow  up  in 
many  minds  the  idea  that  the  young  king  was  a  great 
patron  and  benefactor  of  learning.  The  true  facts  are 
that  infinitely  more  schools  were  destroyed  than  were 
established  ;  but  as  the  generation  which  grew  up 
after  the  dissolution  of  the  monasteries  was  in  many 
cases  without  any  education  at  all,  the  council  who 
acted  for  the  king  thought  it  a  wise  thing  to  employ 
some  of  the  church  property  with  which  the  royal 
coffers  were  overflowing  in  re-establishing  a  few  of 

46 


PUBLIC  SCHOOLS  47 

these  schools  with  a  different  constitution.  The  chief 
distinction  between  the  grammar  schools  and  the 
colleges  was  that  in  the  one  case  they  were  chiefly 
for  day-boys,  in  the  other  for  boarders,  which  of  course 
made  all  the  difference  in  the  corporate  feeling  of 
the  school.  The  curriculum  seems  to  have  been  much 
the  same  in  both.  They  were  attended  by  the  sons  of 
noblemen  and  of  country  squires,  of  men  in  trade  and 
substantial  yeomen — the  probi  homines  or  *  good  men,' 
as  they  were  called,  or  the  gentes  minores;  not  the  'poor' 
in  our  sense,  though  some  were  free  schools,  and  many 
had  scholarships  for  those  who  could  not  pay  fees. 

It  will  be  well  to  take  Winchester  as  typical  of 
the  public  school  system.  Eton,  as  a  royal  founda- 
tion, and  because  of  its  nearness  to  Windsor,  had  be- 
come the  most  fashionable  for  rich  men's  sons ;  but 
Wykeham's  college  should  take  precedence,  because  it 
was  not  only  the  most  ancient  but  the  model  on  which 
Eton  was  founded,  standing  to  it  indeed  as  the  mother- 
country  to  the  colonies,  since  Waynflete  took  twenty 
Winchester  scholars  with  him  to  Eton  to  give  it  sound 
traditions. 

The  researches  of  Mr.  Kirby,  Bursar  of  Winchester, 
through  its  invaluable  store  of  MSS.,  afford  ample 
materials  for  a  study  of  the  manners  and  customs  of 
the  school  at  any  period  of  its  history,  and  on  this 
material  I  am  allowed  to  draw  through  the  kind  per- 
mission of  the  Warden  and  Fellows.1 

The  constitution  of  the  college  may  be  gathered  from 
the  statement  made  by  Warden  Harris  before  the  Par- 
liamentary Commission  in  1649,  as  that  remained  the 
same  through  the  half -century  preceding  —  indeed  as 
it  had  been  from  the  foundation,  although  religious 
teaching  and  customs  of  worship  had  been  changed. 

The  college  consisted  of  Warden,  Schoolmaster,  and 
ten  Fellows.  The  officers  were  six  ;  sub- warden,  two 

1  Annals  of  Winchester  College,  by  T.  F.  Kirby. 

I 


48      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

bursars,  sacristan,  outrider,  claviger,  three  chaplains, 
one  usher,  one  singing-master,  three  clerks.  Seventy 
children  of  the  body  of  the  house.  '  These  are  in- 
4  structed  in  the  Latin  and  Greek  tongue  by  the  school- 

<  master  and  usher  according  to  the  several  forms  wherein 

<  they  are  placed.'     The  study  of  Greek  had  been  intro- 
duced into  the  school  in  the  preceding  century  by  the 
distinguished  Wykehamist,  Grocyn.    Besides  these,  six- 
teen poor  children  called  quiristers,  who  were  by  statute 
to  make  the  Fellows'  beds  and  to  wait  upon  the  scholars 
in   the   hall ;    and   fourteen   servants  in   ordinary,  viz. 
one  manciple,  two  butlers,  three  cooks,  one  baker,  two 
brewers,  one  miller,  two  horsekeepers,  one  gardener, 
one   porter.     All   these   have  diet,   wages,  and   livery 
from  the  college.     The  statement  concludes  with   the 
steward  of  the  lands  and  auditor,  who  did  not  reside. 

As  regards  the  inner  government  of  the  school,  this 
had  been  for  long,  if  not  since  the  very  foundation,  in 
the  hands  of  the  senior  boys,  who  were  called  prefects 
or  prepositors.  Mr.  Kirby  is  doubtful  whether  this  was 
part  of  Wykeham's  original  institution,  though  other 
authorities  hold  that  it  was,  and  indeed  it  would  have 
been  characteristic  of  his  wise  and  statesmanlike  brain. 
In  any  case,  by  1600  it  was  already  a  custom  of  some 
antiquity.  No  system  could  have  been  devised  that 
would  better  train  boys  for  their  future  part  in  public 
life,  whether  to  rule  or  serve.  It  made  an  organism  in 
place  of  a  concourse  of  independent  atoms ;  it  disciplined 
the  younger  lads  and  trained  the  elder  in  a  sense  of 
responsibility  and  habits  of  command  ;  and  it  placed  a 
powerful  check  on  the  bullying  of  the  weak  by  the 
strong.  The  leaders  were  appointed  for  conduct  and 
capacity,  and  together  were  a  match  for  any  hulking 
ne'er-do-weel  who  might  have  made  a  fag's  life  a  tor- 
ment to  him,  and  it  organised  a  strong  and  effective 
public  opinion.  In  it  lies  the  essential  difference  be- 
tween English  and  Continental  school  life :  without  it 


PUBLIC  SCHOOLS  49 

there  is  always  the  tendency  to  anarchy  with  its  atten- 
dant bullying,  or  the  unwholesome  continual  super- 
vision by  masters,  which  is  so  apt  to  produce  underhand 
evasion.  Besides,  a  school  so  constituted  is  a  microcosm 
or  world  in  little,  and  so  a  better  preparation  for  the  life 
of  the  great  world. 

To  turn  to  domestic  matters  :  accounts  show  that  the 
college,  like  a  great  country  house  of  those  days,  had 
to  be  to  a  great  extent  self-supporting,  and  do  its  own 
farming.  There  are  wages  to  haymakers  and  millers, 
as  well  as  to  bakers  and  brewers,  and  at  one  time  hops 
must  have  been  grown,  as  there  is  mention  of  an  old 
hop-garden  to  be  planted  with  apple-trees — let  us  hope 
with  a  view  to  apples  rather  than  an  increased  demand 
for  'four  apple-twigs.'  Great  varieties  of  beer  used  to 
be  brewed, — '  Warden's  strong  beere,  Election  beere, 
and  Audit  ale,'  as  well  as  '  small  beere  '  for  the  scholars. 
There  is  yearly  record  of  haymaking  in  Meads,  Carme- 
lite Mead,  Doggers  Close,  and  the  adjoining  fields.  In 
1619  they  mowed  nearly  eleven  acres  at  a  cost  of  is.  an 
acre.  Cheese  eaten  in  the  hayfield  and  gratuities  occur 
in  the  accounts.  This  entry  is  quaint :  *  Sol.  Bernarde, 
1  Edwards,  et  Blind  Dick  calcantibus  ly  haymowe 
'  aegrotante  subequisone  is.' 

Living  seems  to  have  been  good  if  plain.  Plenty  of 
beef  and  mutton,  tripe,  sheep's  hearts,  and  rabbits  appear 
in  the  accounts,  also  salt-fish,  showing  that  still  in  these 
post-reformation  days  the  fasts  of  the  Church  were  kept ; 
and  in  one  place  occurs  a  mention  of  two  ling  for  the 
Warden's  table,  '  such  as  the  Fellows  have  for  Fridays 
and  Saturdays  and  other  extraordinary  Fast  days.' 
Various  items  such  as  spices,  raisins,  figs,  prunes,  and 
suet,  hint  at  puddings.  Old  Wykehamists  will  fondly 
recall  the  figged  pudding  and  apple  -  crowdy  spiced 
characteristic  of  Winchester  and  New  College  on  gaudy 
days.  Purchase  of  pewter  plates  was  made  in  1630. 
These  must  have  been  for  the  Fellows'  table,  for  as  late 

D 


50      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

as  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century  the  scholars 
ate  off  wooden  trenchers,  and  I  well  remember  a  very 
old  Wykehamist's  description  of  the  difficulty  of  stop- 
ping the  gravy  from  running  off,  and  how  ingeniously 
they  used  in  his  day  to  build  a  wall  of  bread  round  it. 

Amusements  were  very  different  in  those  days  from 
what  they  are  now.     Cricket  was  unknown,  unless  in  its 
infancy  in  the  form  of  *  stool-ball,'  the  stools  (probably 
three  -  legged)    representing    the    wicket.1       Football, 
rounders,    tennis,    and    ninepins    were    played.      The 
playground  was  far  more  circumscribed  than  at  present, 
not  extending  beyond  old  meads,  and  that  was  occa- 
sionally up  for  hay.      In  fine  weather  the   *  children,' 
as  they  were  called,  trooped  two  and  two  to  '  Hills,'  that 
is  St.  Catherine's  Hill,  a  round  eminence  about  a  mile 
beyond  the  city,  crowned  by  the  remains  of  a  Danish 
camp  with  a  crest  of  pine  and  beech  trees,  and  encircled 
by  a  fosse.     Here  they  were  free  to  scatter  and  amuse 
themselves   as  they  chose,   provided   they  were   ready 
to  answer  '  sum J  to  names-calling  at  the  Domum-tree. 
Badger-hunting  was  the  favourite  sport,  as  it  continued 
to  be  so  long  as  the  custom  of  *  hills '  lasted.     Sport 
was  forbidden  by  statute,  so  badgers  were  contraband, 
which  doubtless  added  to  the  charm.     A  relaxation  of 
this  statute  was  permitted  at  the  yearly  public  stag-hunt 
instituted  by  King  James,  who  was  devoted  to  the  chase, 
and  the  scholars  were  allowed  to  assist.     In  1620  they 
threw  off  at  Bere  Forest,  in  1628  at  Longwood.     The 
boys   were   taken    to    the   Meet   in   wagons,    lunched, 
followed  the  hounds  on   foot,  and  came   back  in   the 
wagons  to  a  jovial  supper.      The  hunt  survived  with 
diminished  glory  as  late  as  1865.     The  dogs  used  were 
of  a  peculiar  breed,  more  like  the  blue  Danish  boar- 
hound  than  the  deerhound,  and  at  that  time  they  were 
said  to  be  dying  out. 

In  winter  it  was  the  custom  for  the  king  or  grea 

1   Wykehamica,  Adams. 


PUBLIC  SCHOOLS  51 

nobles  to  entertain  the  college  with  spectacles  of 
masques,  mummers,  or  morrice  -  dancers,  and  some- 
times the  boys  got  up  plays  among  themselves.  On 
every  red-letter  Saint's  day  they  had  a  holiday  and  were 
permitted  to  visit  friends  in  the  town  and  neighbourhood, 
and  they  had  many  other  odd  days  of  rejoicing,  such  as 
4  Apple-pie  day,'  Founder's  Obit  and  Commemoration, 
which  were  distinguished  by  Latin  orations.  In  1614 
one  Mrs.  Lettice  Williams  endowed  New  College  with 
a  rent  charge  out  of  which  the  sum  of  £i,  6s.  8d. 
was  to  be  paid  to  a  fellow  of  Winchester  for  an  annual 
sermon  in  chapel  on  Gunpowder  Plot,  and  133.  4d. 
apiece  to  three  scholars  for  making  Latin  speeches, 
one  ad  Portas,  on  the  arrival  of  the  Warden  and 
Posers  from  Oxford,  another  in  honorem  Fundatoris 
on  Founder's  Day,  and  a  third,  Elizabeths  et  Jacobi, 
on  the  accession  of  James  I.  Ad  Portas  still  survives. 

When  Stanley  was  Head-master  and  Warden  Harris 
newly  appointed,  which  would  be  early  in  the  reign 
of  Charles  i.,  some  complaints  seem  to  have  been  made 
of  Dr.  Stanley's  partiality  and  encroachment  on  the 
Warden's  privileges,  for  a  very  singular  letter  is  extant, 
written  by  the  Fellows  of  New  College  to  a  Mr.  Hackett, 
a  newly  appointed  Fellow  of  Winchester,  urging  that 
the  new  Warden  should  exert  his  authority  over  his 
subordinate,  as  the  Head-master  was  then  considered, 
and  not  only  assert  his  sole  right  to  grant  leave-out  in 
the  town,  but  himself  overlook  the  teaching,  and  allot 
all  punishment  above  the  ordinary.  The  letter  pro- 
ceeds 1 : — 

'To  avoid  severity  (according  to  my  Lord  of  Win- 
1  Chester's  desire),  the  Warden  may  order  that  any  great 
'  and  enormous  fault,  which  may  seem  to  deserve  above 
4  five  stripes,  be  brought  to  himself,  that  he  with  the 
4  other  officers  may  consider  and  appoint  a  fitt  punish- 
'  ment.  Diligent  attendance  of  the  scholars  at  School, 

1  Kirby's  Annals. 


52      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

<  Church,  Hall,  Chambers,  and  Hills,  will  prevent  faults 
'  and  save  much  of  that  severity  which  hath  been  used, 

<  or  else  the  school  will  continue  to  be  as  disorderly  as 
1  now  they  are.     And  such  partial  kind  of  lenities  as  of 
'  late  hath  been  used  only  for  private  advantage  with- 
1  out  such  attendance,  hath  wronged  the  school  much 

*  more  than  the  old  severity.'     Another  recommenda- 
tion is  that  <  the  Warden  should  at  his  pleasure  come 

<  into  the  school  or  cloysters,  or  send  for  the  scholars  to 
'  examine  them  that  he  might  discover  their  progress, 

<  especially  in  Greek,  and  see  what  dunces  are  preferred 
'  for  favour  and  reward,  what  good  scholars  discounte- 

*  nanced  and  discouraged,  and  both  righted.     This  will 
'  make  the  schoolmaster  much   more  careful  both  in 

<  teaching  and  removing  scholars.'     The  letter  goes  on 
to  say  :  *  But  if  there  be  not  more  attendance  and  teach- 

*  ing,  lesse  charges  and  whipping  than  is  reported,  the 

*  school  will  never  thrive,  nor  the  college  recover  its 
'  power  againe.  .  .  .  So,  wishing  the  Warden  hopeful 
1  government,  happy  successe,  not  doubting  but  that 
'  you  '11  give  him  a  view  of  these  particulars,  we  rest 
4  your  assured   loving  friends,    the    Fellows    of    New 
'  College.' 

Two  letters  written  by  one  of  the  boys  at  this  very 
time  seem  to  point  to  an  unsatisfactory  state  of  things. 
They  are  from  young  Edmund  Verney,  second  son  of 
the  standard-bearer,  to  his  elder  brother.  He  had  been 
sent  to  Winchester  from  the  King's  School  at  Gloucester, 
at  the  unusually  late  age  of  sixteen,  and  this  may  have 
made  it  difficult  for  him  to  submit  to  the  prefects' 
government. 

'  My  school  master  being  at  London  the  propositors 

*  begin  to  affronte  mee,  which  my  companions  are  free 
'  from,  I  do  intende  to  intreate  him  to  suffer  mee  to 
1  enjoy  the  same  libertyes  that  they  doe.'     He  begs  that 
his  uncle  would  write  on  his  behalf,  and  possibly  Dr. 
Denton  (who  lived  at  Oxford)  may  have  been  one  of 


PUBLIC  SCHOOLS  53 

those  who  brought  complaints  before  the  Fellows  of 
New  College.  A  little  later  in  the  same  year  he 
writes  : — 

*  I  hope  to  see  you  at  Crismas  if  my  mother  goeth 
(  not  to  London,   as  I  believe  she  will  not.      If  you 
1  please  do  your  best  endeavours  that  I   shall   come, 
1  I  shall  acknowledge  myself  much  beholden.  .  .  .  The 
'  Commoners  custom  and  the  Childrens  are  not  alike, 
4  the  Children  cannot  goe  home  without  the  consent  of 
<  the  Warden,  the  others  need  only  that  their  parents 
*  should   desire   their  coming ;    our  stay   is  but  three 
4  weeks,  the  earnestnesse  of  my  sute  makes  my  Father, 
'  I  feare,   mistruste  that  I   neglect  my  time,  but  it  is 
'  not  soe.' 

Probably,  like  all  old  foundations  which  had  not  been 
utterly  destroyed,  the  college  had  been  shaken  by  the 
Reformation,  and  considerable  laxity  and  disorder  in- 
troduced. It  is  extremely  interesting  and  suggestive 
to  compare  the  visitation  held  by  Archbishop  Laud  in 
1635  with  that  by  the  Parliamentary  Commission  in 
1649-50.  These  are  some  of  the  archbishop's  injunc- 
tions : — 

*  Imprimis.  That  none  who  is  incorporated  a  member 
'  of  your  College,  of  what  quality  soever,  do  at  any  time 
4  without  a  just  impediment  or  constraining  necessity, 
'  neglect  his  coming  in  due  time  unto  morning   and 
'  evening   prayer   in   your  chapel ;    and    that   George 
'  Johnson,  one  of  your  Fellows,  be  more  diligent  to 
'  perform  his  duty  therein  than  formerly  he  hath  done. 

' II.  Item,  that  the  whole  divine  service,  according 
'  to  the  form  of  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer,  be  always 
'  read  on  Sundays  and  other  solemn  days,  without 
'  omission  of  the  Nicene  Creed  or  any  other  part 
'  thereof. 

*  III.  Item,  that  your  chapel  be  from  time  to  time 
'  kept  in   good    repair,    the    ornaments    thereof   made 
'  seemly,  your  Communion  table  comely  and  decently 


54      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

1  adorned,  and  also  placed  close  to  the  east  wall  of  your 
6  chancel,  having  the  ends  standing  north  and  south, 
1  with  a  rail  enclosing  the  same. 

<  VI.  Item,  that  your  Fellows'  and  Scholars'  commons 
'  be  augmented  according  to  the  Statute  of  provision  ; 
<  and  fire  allowed  in  your  hall  in  the  winter  time  on 

*  such  days  as  your  Statute  doth  require. 

*  XL  Item,  that  such  reverence  be  used  in  your 
'  chapel,  both  in  your  access  thereto,  and  recess 
4  therefrom,  and  also  in  service  time,  as  is  practised 
'  in  Cathedral  churches,  and  is  not  dissonant  to  the 

*  Canons  and  Constitutions  of  the  Church  of  England  : 
'  and  that  no  Fellow  or  other  belonging  to  your  College, 

*  of  what  degree  soever,  presume  to  come  thither  with- 
'  out  his  cap  and  hood. 

<  Dated  May  2.8th,  1636.' 

The  inventory  of  the  contents  of  the  chapel  at  this 
time  included  '  One  fay  re  payre  of  organs,  Two  silver 
'  flagons,  double  gilt,  for  the  use  of  the  Holy  Eucharist, 

*  Two  silver  chalices  with   covers  for  the  same   use. 
'  Cushions,  palls,  etc.* 

It  was  perhaps  fortunate  for  Winchester  during  these 
troublous  times  that  the  Warden  should  have  been  one 
who  trod  successfully  the  via  media,  and  while  accom- 
modating himself  to  the  archbishop's  injunctions,  and 
bringing  up  such  loyal  sons  of  Wykeham  as  Edmund 
Verney,  Thomas  Browne,  and  Thomas  Ken,  yet  kept 
on  good  terms  with  the  parliamentary  party  when  they 
came  into  power,  probably  through  personal  friendship 
with  Nicholas  Love,  son  of  his  predecessor  Warden 
Love,  and  Nathaniel  Fiennes,  an  old  Wykehamist, 
who  held  a  command  in  the  rebel  army,  and  visited 
Winchester  in  the  winter  of  1642  on  his  way  to  join 
Waller's  force,  on  which  occasion  he  bivouacked  his 
men  in  the  outer  quad  and  himself  slept  at  the  Warden's. 
He  was  Founder's  kin,  and  to  him  is  attributed  by 


PUBLIC  SCHOOLS  55 

some  writers  the  protection  of  the  Founder's  tomb  from 
violence  and  the  immunity  of  the  statue  of  the  Blessed 
Virgin  over  the  college  gate.  Mr.  Kirby  is  inclined  to 
ascribe  the  safety  of  the  college  rather  to  Love,  who 
was  a  barrister,  and  during  the  Rebellion  frequently 
spent  the  long  vacation  at  Wolvesey,  just  opposite  ;  but 
he  gives  no  reason  for  discrediting  the  tradition  handed 
down  by  word  of  mouth  of  one  of  Wykeham's  sons 
standing  all  the  afternoon  with  drawn  sword  on  the 
step  of  his  great  chantry-tomb  in  the  cathedral,  guard- 
ing it  from  mutilation.  The  story  is  thus  related  in  a 
History  of  Winchester  (anonymous)  published  in  1773 : — 
'On  the  i6th  of  December  1642,  the  soldiers,  under 
1  Sir  William  Waller,  entered  the  church,  where  they 

*  broke  in  pieces  the  carved  work  of  the  choir,  contain- 
'  ing   the  story  of  the   Old  and   New  Testament,   in 
'  admirable  imagery.    They  destroyed  the  organ,  seized 

*  the   rich    tapestry,    cushions   and    vestments    of   the 
'  choir,  with  the  vessels  of  the  altar,  threw  down  the 
<  communion-table,  and  carrying  off  the  rails  which  en- 
'  compassed  it,  they  burnt  them  in  their  quarters.    They 
4  found  great  store  of  popish  books,  pictures  and  cruci- 
'  fixes  in  the  prebendal  houses,  which  after  a  mock 
1  procession  were  burnt,  together  with  the  organ  pipes, 
'  in  the  street.     After  this  they  defaced  many  of  the 
'  monuments  ;  and  pulling  down  the  chests  which  con- 
'  tained  the  remains  of  the  Saxon   kings,  they  threw 
1  their  bones   against  the   painted   glass,    which   they 
4  destroyed  throughout  the  church,  except  the  beautiful 

*  window   over   the   altar,    exhibiting   the   portraits    of 
4  several  saints  and  bishops  of  this  church,  which  being 

*  more  out  of  their  reach,  and  less  exposed  than  the 
'  rest,   is  still   preserved   entire,    together  with   a  few 
1  figures  on  the  windows  contiguous.     The  grand  west 

*  window  seems  to  be  made  up  of  dispersed  fragments, 

*  which,  imperfect  as  it  is,  has  a  fine  effect,  and  "  leaves 
1  "  the   pensive   imagination    to   supply  that  religious 


56      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

*  "  light  which  was  diffused  over  all  the  church,  when 
'  "  every  window  retained  its  original  splendour."     In 
1  this  destruction,  however,  the  elegant  tomb  of  William 
'  of  Wykeham  was  happily  preserved  by  one  Cuff,  a 
1  rebel   officer   in    Sir    William's   army ;   who    having 

*  received  his  education  at  the  college  of  this  city,  held 

*  himself  under  an    indispensable   duty   of  protecting 
4  with   his   life,    the   monument   and    remains   of  that 

*  munificent  founder.' 

What  part  the  boys  played  history  does  not  tell  us, 
nor  even  whether  Fiennes's  nephew,  Kit  Turpin, 
followed  his  uncle's  politics.  Boys  are  little  likely  to 
have  imitated  the  discretion  of  their  Warden,  and  it  is 
to  be  hoped  might  emulate  rather  the  loyalty  of  the 
Westminster  scholars  who,  of  their  own  accord,  passed 
the  hour  of  the  king's  execution  in  prayer.  One  of  the 
successors  of  these  young  loyalists,  Robert  Uvedale, 
distinguished  himself  nine  years  later  by  an  act  of 
schoolboy  daring.  At  the  funeral  of  the  Protector, 
carrying  out  a  pre-concerted  scheme,  he  dived  under 
the  arms  of  the  guard,  snatched  from  the  bier  the 
small  satin  banner  known  as  the  *  Majesty  Scutcheon,' 
and  was  lost  among  his  schoolfellows  before  the  crowd 
had  recovered  from  its  amazement.  Whether  the  right 
to  be  the  first  to  cry  Salve  Rex !  at  the  coronation  be 
cause  or  consequence  of  this  loyalty,  I  know  not. 

That  the  Warden  of  Winchester,  in  spite  of  his  wary 
walking,  ran  some  risk  of  falling  between  two  stools 
is  apparent  in  the  inquiry  held  by  the  Parliamentary 
Commissioners  at  Epiphany,  1649.  In  his  statement 
of  the  constitution  of  the  college  he  shows  himself 
eager  to  propitiate,  and  anxiously  explains  that  among 
the  duties  of  the  Fellows  is  numbered  'to  preach  by 
1  turn  every  Lord's  day  in  the  forenoon,  and  in  the 
i  afternoon  expound  some  part  of  the  Cathecisme.' 
This  was  probably  the  Shorter  Catechism,  ordered  at 
the  time  Parliament  adopted  the  Covenant.  Of  the 


PUBLIC  SCHOOLS  57 

chaplains  he  says :  <  Their  employment  together  with 
6  the  Fellows,  has  been  to  read  praiers  twice  every  day 
'  at  ten  and  four  of  the  clock  :  and  also  to  the  children 
4  every  morning,  which  they  do  now  not  according  to 

*  the  Common  praier  book,  but  in   a  generall   form, 
1  such  as  is  usual  in  families.'     Speaking  of  the  teach- 
ing of  the  scholars,  he  proceeds  :  '  For  their  instruction 
'  in  Religion  they  have  a  Cathecism  Lecture  every  Lord's 
'  day  in  the  afternoon  ;  and  before  it  begins  the  Usher 
4  is  appointed  to  spend  half  an  hour  in  the  examina- 

*  tion   of  them,   what  they    remember   of  the   former 

*  lecture.      They  are  also  appointed  to  take  notes   of 
'  the  forenoon  sermon,  and  to  give  account  thereof  to 
1  the    Schoolmaster   in    writing.      Besides   they    learn 

*  every  Saturday  some  part  of  Nowell's  Cathecism  in 
1  the  school.     They  have  praiers  every  morning  before 
'  they  go  to  school  performed  in  the  chapell  by  one 
4  of  the  Fellows  or  Chaplains,  and  so  likewise  at  night 

*  before  they  go  to  bed.     And  after  they  are  in  bed  a 
'  chapter  of  the  Bible  read  by  the  Prepositor  in  every 
4  chamber.' 

The  religious  observances  do  not  include  any  re- 
ference to  the  celebration  of  the  Holy  Sacrament. 
Before  Laud's  visitation  it  had  been  customary  to 
celebrate  five  times  a  year :  at  All  Saints',  Christmas, 
the  Purification,  St.  James's,  Easter  Day.  It  is  singular 
that  under  this  Puritan  regime  should  have  grown  up 
Thomas  Ken,  who  entered  in  1652,  and  whose  name 
is  cut  on  one  of  the  pillars  of  the  cloister.  In  after 
years  he  wrote  a  most  beautiful  manual  for  Winchester 
scholars,  from  which  the  well-known  morning  and 
evening  hymns  are  taken,  in  which  he  deals  very  fully 
with  preparation  for  receiving  the  Holy  Sacrament.  In 
this  manual  is  an  expression,  'to  go  circum,'  referring 
to  a  very  ancient  custom  of  the  place  which  Mr.  Adams 
in  his  Wykehamica  thus  explains  : — 

4  "  To  go  Circum,"  an  ancient  Wykehamical  phrase 


58      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

1  often   found   in   the  earlier  records    of    the    college. 
4  For  some  time  subsequently  to  the  foundation,  it  is 

*  believed    to    have    been    the   practice  of   the  whole 
'  Wykehamical  body  to  make  the  tour  of  the  college 
1  every  evening,  singing  hymns  and  chanting  prayers. 
1  Subsequently,  and  arising  in  all  likelihood  out  of  this, 
'  a  custom   prevailed — which  was   in   use  during  the 

*  seventeenth  century  and,  it  is  believed,  to  the  end  of 
'  the  eighteenth — for  the  boys  to  repair  about  five  in 
1  the  afternoon  to  a  bench  in  the  ambulatory,  under  the 

<  wall   now  occupied   by  the  Crimean  Memorial,  and 
'  kneeling    down    at  this,    say  their  private    prayers. 

<  This  was  still  called  "  going  circum,"  but  obviously 
1  it  cannot  have  been  the  original  practice.'      Bishop 
Ken  thus  exhorts  Philotheus,  his  scholar  : — i  If  you  are 
'  a  Commoner,  you  may  say  your  prayer  in  your  own 
'  chamber  ;  but  if  you  are  a  Child,  or  a  chorister,  then, 
(  to  avoid  the  interruptions  of  the  common  chambers, 
'  go  into  the  chapel,  between  first  and  second  peal  in 

<  the  morning,  to  say  your  morning  prayers,  and  say 

*  your  evening  prayers  when  you  go  Circum.' 

The  accusations  laid  against  Warden  Harris  included 
time-serving  and  superstition  as  well  as  aid  contributed 
to  the  king,  and  these  serious  indictments  : — 

i  He  hath  usually  sent  to  the  shoppes  for  wares  on  the 
1  Sabbath  days. 

*  It  hath  been  credibly  reported  that  he  would  not 
1  suffer  the  good  gentlewoman  his  wife  to  keep  a  good 

*  book,  but  would  take  it  from   her,   who  was   much 
'  troubled  at  his  inconstancy  in  religion,  and  reasoned 
1  with  him  why  he  did  now  use  superstitious  bendings 
1  which  he  formerly  preached  against.' 

He  escaped,  however,  with  nothing  worse  than  cen- 
sure, and  remained  in  office  till  his  death  in  1658. 

During  his  tenure  of  office,  eighteen  of  the  elder  boys 
bound  themselves  to  talk  Latin  from  autumn  to  the 


PUBLIC  SCHOOLS  59 

ensuing  Pentecost,  and  drew  up  a  resolution  in  Latin, 
the  preamble  to  which  may  be  thus  rendered  :  '  Mindful 
'  of  our  ancient  manners  and  discipline  in  this  place, 
<  mindful  of  the  rules  of  our  Tutors,  mindful  of  the 
'  duty  and  obedience  we  owe  to  our  reverend  Master 
'  the  Warden  who  has  often  urged  this  upon  us,  in 

*  Hall,  in  Chambers,  in  all  places  where  we  are  accus- 

*  tomed  to  meet  and  converse,  etc.  etc.' 

Two  or  three  more  letters  from  Edmund  Verney  are 
curious  specimens  of  a  boy's  home  letters  at  that  date.1 
He  thus  addresses  his  father  : — 

*  Winton  Coll :  Feb.  10,  1635.  •  •  •  Not  daring  to 
'  present  any  unpolished  lines  to  such  a  judicious 
1  reader,  but  finding  how  farr  greater  a  crime  it  is  to 

*  neglect  duty  than  to  lay  my  defects  to  a  wel  wishing 
'  father,   I  have  adventured  to  write  to  you,   humbly 

*  beseeching  you  to  pardon  what  I  have  written,   by 
1  which  means  you  will  encourage  me  to  make  a  second 
4  adventure.     With  my  humble  duty  remembered  unto 
'  you,  I  remain  your  obedient  sonn,  EDMUND  VERNEY.' 

This  remarkable  effusion  was  probably  a  show  letter, 
for  a  little  later,  having  been  in  a  scrape,  he  writes 
much  more  naturally  : — 

' 1  feare  you  have  been  informed  against  mee  more 
'  than  is  true,  though  I  cannot  deny  that  I  have  some- 

*  times  by  company  been  drawne  to  doe  what  did  not 
'  befit  mee.' 

And  some  time  after,  to  his  brother  Ralph  : — 
1 1  think  I  have  behaved  myself  soe  fairly  since 
'  Whitsuntide,  that  Dr.  Stanley  can  inform  my  ffather 
1  of  nothing  that  I  have  committed  that  I  neede  be 
'  ashamed  of,  therefore  I  would  intreate  you  to  urge 
4  him  to  forget  my  former  misdeedes.'  He  was  just 
going  to  Oxford,  to  Magdalen  Hall,  and  adds  in  a 
postscript,  '  I  think  it  best  to  send  my  bed  by  the  foot- 
post  which  goes  from  Winchester  to  Oxford.' 

1   Verney  Memoirs. 


60      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

Having  gone  so  fully  into  the  constitution  of  Win- 
chester, it  will  not  be  necessary  to  say  so  much  of  Eton, 
which  borrowed  all  its  traditions  from  thence  ;  but  the 
personal  experiences  of  two  little  boys  sent  over  from 
Ireland  in  the  year  1635  are  full  °f  interest.  These 
were  the  two  younger  sons  of  the  Earl  of  Cork,  one  of 
them,  Robert  Boyle,  distinguished  in  after  life  for  his 
scientific  attainments.  Sir  Henry  Wotton,  who  was 
provost  at  this  time,  was  a  friend  of  their  father's,  and 
took  great  interest  in  them.  The  children  were  sent 
under  the  charge  of  an  attendant,  Robert  Carew,  who, 
though  spoken  of  in  the  fashion  of  the  day  as  a 
1  servant/  seems  rather  to  have  ranked  as  a  tutor  or 
'governor  for  manners.'  Soon  after  their  arrival  the 
usher  or  second  master  wrote  to  their  father  : — 

'  RIGHT  HONOURABLE, — There  were  brought  hither  to 
'  Eton  the  second  of  this  present  October,  two  of  your 
'  honour's  sons,  Francis  and  Robert.  Who  as  they 
1  indured  their  journey  both  by  sea  and  land  beyond 
1  what  a  man  would  expect  from  such  little  ones  ;  so 
'  since  their  arrival  here  the  place  hath  seemed  to  agree 

*  wondrous  well  with  their  tempers.     I  hope  they  will 

*  grow  every  day  more  in  a  liking  and  love  of  it.     The 
1  care  of  their  institution  Mr.  Provost  hath  imposed  on 

*  me,  by  his  favour  the  rector,  at  the  present,  of  this 
'  school.     I  will  carefully  see  them  supplied  with  such 
'  things  as  their  occasions  in  the  College  shall  require, 
'  and  endeavour  to  set  them  forward  in  learning  the 
4  best  I  can.      And  so,   forbearing  to  be  any  further 
'  troublesome  to  your  Lordship  at  this  time,  I  rest  your 
1  honour's  humble  servant,  JOHN  HARRISON.'* 

A   little  later  Carew  writes :    i  They  are  very  well 
'  beloved  for  their  civil   and   transparent  carriage   to- 

*  wards  all  sorts,  and  specially  my  sweet  Mr.  Robert, 

1  Mary  Rick,  Countess  of  Warwick,  by  C.  Fell  Smith. 


PUBLIC  SCHOOLS  61 

1  who  gains  the  love  of  all.      Sir  Harry  Wotton  was 

*  much  taken  with  him  for  his  discourse  of  Ireland,  and 
'  of  his  travels,  and  he  admired  that  he  would  observe 

<  or  take  notice  of  those  things  that  he  discoursed  of. 

<  He  is  mighty  courteous  and  loving  towards  them,  and 
i  lent  a  chamber  furnished  until  we  could  furniture  so 
'  their  own  chamber.     We  enjoy  it  yet  which  is  a  great 

*  favour.     He  did  invite  my  masters  to  his  own  table 
1  several   times.      Thanks    be   to  God   they  are  very 

*  jocund  and  they  have  a  studious  desire,  whereby  in  a 
'  short  time  they  will  attain  to  learning.      They  have 
'  very  careful  and  reverend  masters.  .  .  . 

1  Touching  my  masters'  essence,  they  dine  in  the  hall 
'  with  the  rest  of  the  boarders,  where  sits  the  Earl  of 
'  Southampton's  four  sons,  the  Earl  of  Peterborough's 
'  two  sons,  with  other  Knights'  sons.  They  sit  pro- 
1  miscuously,  no  observing  of  place  or  quality,  and  at 
4  nights  they  sup  in  their  chambers,  but  my  masters,  in 

*  regard  our  chamber  is  not  furnished,  do  sup  with  my 
'  Lord  Mordaunt,  the  Earl  of  Peterborough's  son,  where 

*  they  are  most  kindly  entertained,  but  we  have  their 
1  commons  brought  thither.     Yet  they  take  it  a  great 
'  kindness  to   be  so  lovingly   used.      They  are  very 

<  familiar  with  one  another.      And,  my  Lord,  there  is 
'  to   be   observed   the   fasting   nights,    whereupon   the 
'  College  allows  no  meat  Fridays  and  Saturdays.     We 
1  must  upon  those  nights  have  the  cook's  meat,  which 
1  is  sometimes  mighty  dear,  for  he  must  have  his  own 
'  rate,   not  the  College   price.      As  also  for  breakfast 
'  every  day  they  have  a  poor  breakfast  at  two  pennies 
'  apiece.      This  will    come    to    money,    besides   their 
'  chambers,    accoutrements    and    clothes,    which    your 
4  Lordship  must  furnish  them  withal.' 

From  this  it  appears  that  Lord  Cork,  who,  loyal 
though  he  was  in  politics,  was  an  extreme  Protestant, 
did  not  wish  his  sons  to  observe  the  fasts  which  were 
still  regularly  kept  by  the  Church  of  England.  Great 


62       HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

man  and  wealthy  as  he  was,  he  was  most  careful 
about  expense,  and  noted  the  smallest  outlay  in  his 
voluminous  diary. 

A  month  or  two  later  Carew  writes : — '  Mr.  Francis  .  .  . 
'  is  not  so  much  given  to  his  books  as  my  most  honoured 
'  and  affectionate  Mr.  Robert,  who  loseth  no  hour  with- 

*  out  a  line  of  his  idle  time,  but  on  schooldays  he  doth 

*  compose  his  exercises  as  well  as  them  of  double  his 

*  years  and  experience.     They  are  under  the  tuition  of 
'  the  usher,   in  regard  they  were  placed  in  the  third 
'  form.     A  careful  man  he  is,  yet  I  thank  God  I  have 

*  gained  their  loves  so  far  as  I  can  get  them  to  do  more 

*  than  their  school  exercises  in  their  chamber,  and  am 

*  authorised  to  do  so  by  Mr.  Harrison  who  sees  that 
'  they  do  it  with  willingness  and  facility.     They  write 
4  every  day  most  commonly  a  copy  of  the  French  and 
'  Latin,  but  they  affect  not  the  Irish,  notwithstanding  I 
'  shew  many  reasons  to  bind  their  minds  thereto.     Mr. 

*  Robert  sometimes  desires  it  and  is  a  little  entered  into 

*  it.     He  is  grown  very  fat  and  very  jovial  and  pleasantly 
1  merry,  and  of  ye  rarest  memory  that  every  I  knew. 
'  He    prefers    learning    before    all    other  virtues  and 
1  pleasures.      Mr.    Provost  does  admire    him   for  his 

*  excellent  genius.     He  was  chosen  in  a  play  the  28th 
1  of  November.     He  came  upon   the  stage.     He   had 

*  but  a  mute  part,  but  for  the  gestures  of  his  body,  and 
'  the  order  of  his  pace  he  did  bravely.  .  .  .  Sir  Henry 

*  Wotton  hath  made  choice  of  a  very  sufficient  person 
'  to  teach  them  to  play  on  the  viol  and  to  sing.     He 

*  doth   also    undertake    to    help   my   Master   Robert's 

*  defect  in   pronunciation,  which  is  a  principal  reason 
'  that  they  should  bestow  any  hours  in  that  faculty,  for 
4  it  is  a  thing  that  elevates  the  spirits  and  may  hinder 
'  their  proceeding  in  matters  of  greater  moment.' 

The  following  formal  little  letter  is  from  Francis,  the 
elder,  to  his  father  : — 


PUBLIC  SCHOOLS  63 

'ETON,  17  Oct.  1635. 

*  DEAR  FATHER,  —  With  bended  knees  and  hearty 
'  prayer  I  importune  the  Almighty  for  a  long  con- 
'  tinuance  of  your  health  and  happiness,  so  that  I  may 
'  not  be  deprived  of  the  great  felicity  of  your  blessing, 
'  which  I  do  most  earnestly  crave.  And  as  for  news  which 
'  your  Lordship  will  expect  from  me,  I  have  scarce  any 
'  but  the  things  that  I  observed  in  my  travels  which  I 
i  will  leave  to  the  bearer's  relation,  in  regard  I  am 
1  incited  by  my  school  exercise.  Only  I  must  humbly 
'  entreat  your  Honor  to  take  notice  of  the  kindness  of 
'  Sir  Henry  Wotton  towards  us,  and  how  lovingly  he 
1  received  us,  and  entertained  us  this  first  day  of  our 

<  entrance  at  his  own  table.      He  hath  also  lent  us  a 
'  chamber  of  his  own,  with  a  bed  furnished  afore  our  own 
'  will  be  furnished,  all  which  I  leave  to  your  Lordship's 
'  consideration  to  requite.     We  are  much  bound  to  the 
'  young  Lords,  especially  to  the  Earl  of  Peterborough's 
4  son,  with  whom  we  dine  and  sup.     My  other  occasions 
'  call  me  away,  therefore  I  beg  pardon  for  not  imparting 

<  more  of  my  mind,  but  must  remain  your  most  obedient 
i  son  to  command,  FRANCIS  BOYLE.' 


Their  school  bill  for  three  years  amounted  to 
33.  4d.,  including  'diet,  apparel,  tutelage,  and  keep  of 
their  manservant.' 

To  turn  to  the  three  great  London  schools.  West- 
minster, which  has  already  been  mentioned  for  its 
conspicuous  loyalty,  had  been  completely  new  con- 
stituted under  Elizabeth,  having  been  part  of  the  old 
monastic  foundation  which  the  Reformation  had  swept 
away.  During  the  early  years  of  the  seventeenth 
century  its  head-master  was  Camden  the  historian,  and 
he  was  succeeded  by  the  celebrated  Dr.  Busby,  so  no 
doubt  excellent  traditions  of  sound  learning  were  main- 
tained. Its  roll  contains  the  names  of  Ben  Jonson, 
George  Herbert,  Giles  Fletcher,  Abraham  Cowley—  no 


64      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

bad  sample  of  the  tone  of  the  school.  It  seems  a  little 
hard  that  the  nickname  which  schoolboy  fashion  stuck 
to  the  Westminster  boys  should  have  been  '  Anthony's 
pigs, '  in  contradistinction  to  <  Paul's  pigeons. '  St.  Paul's 
School  had  been  founded  in  1512  by  Dean  Colet  for  a 
hundred  and  fifty-three  poor  men's  children.  .  Poor 
must,  however,  be  taken  in  a  qualified  sense :  its  most 
distinguished  pupil,  John  Milton,  was  the  son  of  a 
scrivener,  a  well-to-do  if  not  wealthy  man,  and  his 
school-fellows  seem  to  have  belonged  to  much  the  same 
position  in  life.  Its  first  head-master  was  Lilly,  the 
author  of  the  Latin  grammar  most  in  use  at  this  time. 
During  Milton's  time,  1620  to  1624,  the  head-master 
was  Gill,  who  was  assisted  by  his  son.  A  very  good 
classical  education  was  given  in  both  Latin  and  Greek. 
The  young  Milton  was  a  most  diligent  boy,  and  is 
supposed  to  have  injured  his  eyesight  by  his  constant 
application.  Not  content  with  the  ordinary  school 
course,  he  was  continually  poring  over  a  book,  his 
favourite  studies  being  poetry  and  theology. 

Merchant  Taylors',  which  was  only  founded  in 
1561,  had  already  gained  considerable  prestige,  and  its 
roll  boasts  of  many  distinguished  names : — Lancelot 
Andrewes,  Bishop  of  Winchester,  who  was  one  of  the 
translators  of  the  Authorised  Version  of  the  Bible,  and 
a  divine  whose  writings  did  more  than  those  of  any 
man,  except  perhaps  Hooker,  to  restore  the  Church  of 
England,  so  shaken  by  the  Reformation,  to  her  true 
position  ;  Wren,  the  learned  Bishop  of  Ely  ;  Juxon, 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  who  stood  beside  his  royal 
master  on  the  scaffold  ;  and  many  another,  priest  or 
layman,  who  have  left  honoured  names.  Sir  James 
Whitelocke,  the  father  of  Bulstrode  Whitelocke,  writes 
in  his  Liber  Famelicus  : — 

<  I  was  brought  up  at  school  under  Mr.  Mulcaster,  in 
1  the  famous  school  of  the  Marchantaylors  in  London, 
<  where  I  continued  untill  I  was  well  instructed  in  the 


PUBLIC  SCHOOLS  65 

1  Hebrew,  Greek,  and  Latin  tongs.     His  care  was  also 

*  to   encrease   my   skill   in   musique,   in   which   I   was 
<  brought  up  by  dayly  exercise  in  it,  as  in  singing  and 
'  playing  upon  instruments,  and  yeerly  he  presented 
1  sum  playes  to  the  court,  in  whiche  his  scholers  wear 

*  the  only  actors,  and  I   on  among  them,  and  by  that 

*  meanes  taughte  them  good  behaviour  and  audacitye.' 

The  grammar  schools  throughout  the  country  were 
taught  and  managed  on  much  the  same  principles. 
Wolsey's  statutes  for  the  Free  School  at  Ipswich, 
which  he  refounded,  were  still  in  force,  and  no  doubt 
typical  of  the  usual  curriculum.1  There  were  to  be 
eight  classes,  for  which,  besides  Lilly's  Grammar,  the 
following  authors  were  prescribed  :  the  third  form  from 
the  bottom,  ^Esop  and  Terence  ;  the  fourth,  Virgil ;  the 
fifth,  Cicero's  Letters  ;  the  sixth,  Sallust  and  Ccesar's 
Commentaries ;  the  seventh,  Horace's  Epistles  and 
Ovid's  Metamorphoses  or  Fasti ;  the  eighth  abandoned 
Lilly  for  Donatus,  and  read  Valla  and  other  ancient 
Latin  authors. 

These  notes,  gathered  from  many  sources,  may  give 
some  notion  of  the  public  school  education  in  the 
days  of  the  Stuarts.  Its  aim  was  wide  ;  it  sought  not 
merely  to  make  scholars  of  the  lads,  but  Christians  and 
gentlemen,  fit  to  govern  and  take  their  part  in  public 
affairs. 

1  English  Schools  at  the  Reformation,  by  A.  F.  Leach. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   PRIVATE   TUTOR 

ALTHOUGH  public  schools  were  flourishing,  and  boys 
were  sent  very  early  to  the  university,  the  private  tutor 
was  at  this  time  a  great  institution.  Many  parents  pre- 
ferred to  bring  up  their  children  at  home  with  a  resident 
tutor  who  could  instruct  the  girls  as  well  as  the  boys, 
and  usually  also  acted  as  chaplain.  In  some  cases,  as 
we  have  seen,  he  accompanied  his  charges  to  school  and 
looked  after  them  there  ;  very  commonly  also  to  Oxford 
or  Cambridge.  As  Lord  Herbert  in  his  scheme  of 
education  says,  'when  he  (the  boy)  be  ready  to  go  to 
4  the  university,  it  will  be  fit  also  his  governor  for 

*  manners  go  along  with  him,  it  being  the  frail  nature 
'  of  youth  as  they  grow  to  ripeness  in  age,  to  be  more 
1  capable   of  doing   ill   unless  their   manners   be   well 
'  guided    and    themselves    by    degrees    habituated    in 

*  virtue/1     Sending  boys  abroad  under  the  care  of  a 
trustworthy  tutor  was  a  very  common  practice  in  those 
days  when  no  gentleman's  education  was  considered 
finished  without  some  residence  on  the  continent,  and 
a  fluency  in   at  least  French  and  Spanish,   if  not  in 
Italian  also  and  German.     During  the  first  century  of 
the  Reformation,  its  effect  in  making  England  entirely 
insular  was   hardly   felt :    learned   men   still   wrote   in 
Latin  as  a  common  tongue,  and  even   spoke  it,   and 
intercourse,  not  only  between  the  various  universities  of 
Europe,  but  between  the  cultivated  classes  in  all  nations, 

1  The  Life  of  Lord  Herbert  of  Cherbury^  written  by  himself. 


THE  PRIVATE  TUTOR  67 

was  an  important  factor  in  life.     John  Bull  was  in  the 
early  seventeenth  century  a  type  entirely  unknown. 

It  was  also  a  very  usual  plan  to  place  boys  to  board 
in  the  house  of  a  tutor  either  in  England  or  abroad, 
especially  in  the  case  of  Recusants,  as  the  Roman 
Catholics  were  called,  and  in  their  case  was  involuntary 
on  the  part  of  the  parents.  The  continual  plots  against 
the  throne  and  life  of  Elizabeth,  culminating  in  the 
abortive  Gunpowder  Plot,  had  loaded  the  Statute-Book 
with  repressive  legislation  in  the  attempt  to  root  the 
Papists  out  of  the  land.  Not  only  did  they  lie  under 
civil  disabilities,  but  they  were  harried,  they  were  fined, 
their  children  were  taken  from  them  and  handed  over 
to  the  custody  of  the  nearest  of  kin  being  a  Protestant. 
It  was,  however,  enacted  that  he  must  be  one  to  whom 
'  the  lands,  tenements,  or  hereditaments  of  such  child 

*  or  children  cannot  lawfully  descend,  who  shall  habitu- 

*  ally  resort  to  some  church  or  chapel,  and  there  hear 
'  Divine  Service,  and  receive  the  Holy  Sacrament  of  the 
'  Lord's  Supper  thrice  in  the  year  next  before.'1 

The  young  Kenelm  Digby,  whose  father  had  lost 
his  head  for  complicity  in  the  Gunpowder  Plot,  came, 
of  course,  under  the  scope  of  this  law ;  but  since  it 
appeared  there  was  no  Protestant  relative  to  receive 
him,  he  was  sent  to  the  care  of  Dr.  Laud,  at  this  time 
Dean  of  Gloucester,  to  be  bred  a  Protestant.  With  all 
his  high  sacramental  doctrine,  Laud  held  very  strong 
views  against  the  papal  claims,  and  no  man  less  de- 
served the  charge  of  Romanising.  He  had  written  a 
book  in  refutation  of  Fisher  the  Jesuit,  of  which  King 
Charles  had  a  very  high  opinion,  and  which  he  be- 
queathed at  his  death  to  his  little  daughter  Elizabeth 
4  to  ground  her  against  Popery.'  Laud  also  exercised 
a  good  deal  of  influence  over  the  mind  of  the  Duke  of 
Buckingham,  who  had  some  leanings  towards  Rome, 
and  kept  him  faithful  to  the  Church  of  England,  so  he 

1  Stat.  3,  Jac.  I.  c.  5. 


68       HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

was  no  doubt  considered  an  excellent  man  to  place 
young  Digby  with.  He  was  extremely  kind  to  his 
pupil  and  much  attached  to  him,  and  does  not  seem  to 
have  showed  him  any  of  that  roughness  and  shortness 
of  manner  which  Clarendon  says  was  so  characteristic 
of  him  ;  but  although  they  were  very  good  friends,  he 
never  induced  his  pupil  formally  to  abjure  the  Catholic 
faith,  although  for  many  years,  certainly  during  his 
sojourn  with  his  kinsman  Lord  Bristol  in  Spain,  he 
conformed  to  the  State  religion.  Of  his  studies  with 
Dr.  Laud  we  do  not  learn  many  particulars.  He  was 
an  intelligent  but  rather  odd  boy,  with  many  curious 
tastes  and  aptitudes.  He  was  unusually  tall,  with 
much  charm  of  manner,  and  *  well-expressed  in  his 
attire,'  and  at  fifteen,  when  taken  into  Spain,  he  played 
the  part  of  a  grown  man  with  considerable  aplomb, 
winning  the  favourable  notice  of  the  Prince  of  Wales. 

In  the  case  of  Lady  Falkland,  who  had  joined  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church — an  even  more  heinous  crime 
in  the  eyes  of  the  law  than  remaining  in  it — her  younger 
children  were  as  a  matter  of  course  taken  away  from 
her,  and  at  their  father's  death  were  handed  over  to  the 
custody  of  their  eldest  brother,  Lucius  Lord  Falkland, 
who  appointed  his  friend  Chillingworth  their  tutor. 
This  was  a  terrible  trial  to  their  mother,  since  Chilling- 
worth  had  himself  once  embraced  the  Catholic  faith,  and 
had  not  only  returned  to  the  Church  of  England,  but 
had  since  dallied  with  Socinianism,  and  she  greatly 
feared  his  influence  on  their  young  unfolding  minds. 
The  four  girls  though  bred  Protestants  had  already 
been  received  into  their  mother's  church,  but  the  two 
little  boys,  Patrick  and  Placid,  were  only  about  ten  and 
eleven  years  old.  They,  however,  were  no  less  firm 
than  their  sisters  in  their  determination  to  follow  their 
mother's  faith,  and  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  all  Mr.  Chilling- 
worth's  arguments,  as  well  as  to  those  persuasions  which 
we  may  be  sure  their  sister-in-law  would  use,  for  she 


THE  PRIVATE  TUTOR  69 

was  a  deeply  religious  woman,  with  strong  Protestant 
leanings.  Whether  their  brother  exerted  any  pressure 
upon  them  we  are  not  told  ;  probably  not,  for  he  was  a 
man  of  singularly  open  mind,  who  reverenced  if  he  could 
not  embrace  the  faith  of  his  mother,  of  as  devout  a 
temper  as  his  wife,  but  far  less  dogmatic.  So  resolute 
were  these  little  boys,  that  they  would  keep  the  fasts  of 
the  Church  'even  to  hunger,'  as  their  sister  relates, 
since  they  were  not  allowed  fasting  meats,  as  not  good 
for  children. 

Their  mother  was  always  trying  to  contrive  how  she 
could  spirit  them  away,  but  she  was  a  very  poor 
plotter.  At  length  an  opportunity  presented  itself.  It 
chanced  that  Lettice,  their  sister-in-law,  was  going  to 
London  on  business  for  three  days,  taking  the  girls 
with  her,  and  Lady  Falkland  eagerly  seized  the  chance 
of  evading  her  watchfulness.  The  story  must  be  told  in 
the  words  of  the  daughter  who  was  her  biographer l : — 

'  Her  daughters  then,  the  night  before  they  were 
'  to  go  away  (having  first  conveyed  their  brothers' 
'  cloaks  to  the  men,  and  advertised  them  to  meet  them 
'  in  the  place  they  had  appointed  by  4  or  5  of  the 

*  clock  ;  and  having  procured  their  brothers  a  play-day 
1  of  the  next,  that  it  might  be  the  longer  before  they 
'  were  missed),  seeming  to  have  much  business  to  do 
'  the  next  day  before  their  going,  did  shew  a  desire  to 
'  be  called  very  early,  wch  one  of  their  little  brothers 
'  (by  agreement)  undertook  to  do  at  3  o'clock,  that  the 
'  boys  might  have  occasion  to  do  that  avowedly  wch, 

*  considering   the    wakefulness    of    Mr,    Chillingworth 
1  (wch  was  well  known  to  them)  within  whose  chamber 
'  they  lay,  could  not  possibly  be  done  by  stealth  ;  and 
4  the  children's  desire  to  go  was  so  great  that  it  gave 
'  them  not  leave  to  oversleep,  but  rising  at  3  with  as 

*  much  noise  as  they  could,  went  to  call  their  sisters  ; 
'  and  having  run  about  the  house  an  hour,  and  shewed 

1  The  Lady  Falkland,  her  Life. 


70      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

'  themselves  to  all  that  were  up,  they  were  by  one  of 
'  their  sisters  carried  down,  and  seen  safe  out  of  all  the 
'  courts  of  the  house,  without  being  descried  by  any  ; 
'  they  running  all  alone  that  mile  (it  being  not  yet  light) 
1  to  meet  men  that  were  entirely  strangers  to  them, 
'  whose  persons  were  no  way  promising  nor  apt  to 

*  encourage  children  to  have  any  confidence  in  them. 
4  Before  they  met  the   men,   passing  through  a  little 
'  village  near  their  brother's  house,  they  were  fain  to 

*  hide  behind  bushes,  the  barking  of  the  dogs  having 
1  made  people  come  forth.     After  they  met  them  (the 
4  men)  they  were  fain  to  leave  the  highway  at  sight  of 
4  every  coach  or  horse,  being  much  afraid  to  be  over- 
1  taken  by  their  sister-in-law's  coach  or  company  wch 
4  was  to  follow  the  same  way,  at  least  as  far  as  Oxford, 
1  whither  when   they  came   (it  being  far  in  the  day) 
'  knowing  they  might  be   like  to  be  followed  thither 
'  with  a  hue  and  cry,  that  nothing  might  have  been 
'  seen  in  the  town  like  any  description  that  might  be 
'  made  of  them,  they  took  the  boys  off  of  their  horses, 

*  one  of  the  men  passing  first  through  the  town  leading 

*  i  horse,  the  boys  following  on  foot  (some  space  after) 
'  without  hats  or  cloaks  (to  look  the  less  like  strangers), 

*  and  last  the  other  man  on  horseback.     They  came  to 

*  Abingdon  after  noon,  when  they  found  that  gentleman 
1  (who  was  to  convey  them)  and  his  pair  of  oars  without 
'  money  as  they  expected  :  but  wch  they  did  not  expect, 
'  so  drunk  (the  watermen)  that  there  was  no  removing 
'  for  them    from    thence    that    night,    and   those    that 

*  brought   them,    not  to   leave    them   so,    stayed   too  ; 
1  when  after  supper  they  that  came  with  them  and  he 
'  that  was  to  take  them  here  fell  out,  and  made  shift 
'  to  have  it  known  in  the  house  that  they  were  stolen 

*  children  ;    at  which   the    town   was    raised,    and   the 
<  constable  came  to  seize  them  who  happening  to  be 
'  an   old   acquaintance   and   gossip   of   the   poor   Pro- 
'  testant  fellow's  was  by  him  satisfied  that  they  were  his 


THE  PRIVATE  TUTOR  71 

4  mistress's  children,  and  that  they  were  going  to  their 
1  mother  who  had  sent  for  them  :  but  having  so  scaped, 
'  they  durst  not  venture  to  stay  till  next  day,  lest  some 
'  noise  of  an  enquiry  coming  to  this  town  (one  that 
1  resorted  much  to  their  brother's  house  living  near  it) 
'  might  renew  the  suspicion,  but  were  fain  to  take  water 
1  at  10  o'clock  at  dark  night,  with  watermen  not  only 
1  not  able  to  row,  but  ready  every  moment  to  overturn 
1  the  boat  with  reeling  and  nodding.  Yet  she,  having 
'  first  heard  this  news  of  the  danger  the  two  men  had 
'  left  them  in,  did  receive  them  safe  and  most  joyfully. 
'  She  was  fain  to  put  them  in  some  private  places  in 
'  London,  often  removing  them,  and  for  to  be  able  to 
1  pay  for  their  diet  and  lodging,  as  also  through  the 
'  enlarging  of  her  family  (her  daughters  being  come  to 
i  her  too)  she  and  her  household  were  constrained  for 
1  the  time  she  stayed  in  town  to  keep  more  Fridays  in  a 
4  week  than  one.  Her  sons  having  been  missed  at  their 
'  brother's  at  dinner  that  day  they  went  and  after,  having 
'  been  sought  all  about  without  being  found,  they  did 
1  at  last  conclude  what  was  become  of  them,  the  rather 
4  seeing  in  their  chamber  no  book  or  other  thing  left 
1  that  was  theirs. ' 

Through  Lady  Falkland's  cleverness  in  hiding  them 
in  London,  when  she  was  brought  before  the  council 
charged  with  sending  them  out  of  the  realm,  she  could 
truthfully  affirm  that  she  had  done  nothing  of  the  sort. 
Later,  however,  she  got  them  away  to  the  continent, 
and  both  subsequently  became  monks. 

The  Puritans  at  this  time  frequently  sent  their  sons 
abroad,  either  to  travel  under  the  care  of  a  tutor,  or 
more  often  to  board  in  the  house  of  some  French  or 
Swiss  Protestant  divine  from  whom  they  might  imbibe 
the  Calvinistic  teaching  dear  to  the  ultra-Protestant 
party,  and  discouraged  at  home  under  the  High  Church 
regime  of  Laud  and  King  Charles.  Before  the  revoca- 
tion of  the  Edict  of  Nantes  there  was  considerable 


72       HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

latitude  of  religious  opinion  in  France,  and  at  Sedan, 
Saumur,  and  Geneva  were  Protestant  universities,  'at 
noe  unreasonable  rate,'  as  Sir  Ralph  Verney  wrote  to 
a  frugally  minded  father  who  had  written  to  consult  him 
on  the  subject.  Living  abroad  as  he  did  for  many 
years,  careful  and  kindly,  of  strict  Puritan  principles  in 
religion,  and  always  ready  to  advise  or  take  trouble  for 
his  friends,  he  was  an  excellent  person  to  whom  to  turn, 
and  his  correspondence  is  full  of  information  as  to  the 
cost  of  tuition  abroad.1  In  one  letter  he  goes  very  care- 
fully into  the  expense  of  boarding  a  boy  for  education  in 
the  house  of  a  private  family  at  Blois.  The  boy  was  to 
learn  with  a  tutor  *  Greeke  and  Lattin,  also  Mathematicke, 
'  Dancing,  Fencing,  Riding,  Musicke  and  Languages 
'  with  other  professors.'  For  £200  a  year  a  French 
family  would  board  a  boy  and  also  'finde  him  good 
'  cloathes  of  all  sorts,  gloves,  ribbons,  etc.,  and  pocket 
'  money  also  in  a  reasonable  way.  .  .  .  Books,  paper,  in- 
*  struments,  both  for  Musick  and  the  Mathematicke,  and 
'  further  in  case  hee  should  bee  sick,  they  will  provide 
1  Doctor,  Apothecary,  and  a  Keeper.'  (That  is,  of  course, 
a  nurse  or  attendant.)  Protestant  pastors,  as  they  do 
now,  frequently  took  in  boys  to  board  at  phenomenally 
low  rates,  even  where,  as  at  Rouen,  they  were  not 
allowed  to  keep  a  school.  But  Sir  Ralph  does  not 
recommend  Rouen,  as  he  said  very  bad  French  was 
spoken  there. 

It  frequently  happens,  however,  that  those  who  are 
considered  great  authorities  on  education  do  not  succeed 
well  with  their  own  children,  and  his  own  son  Edmund 
did  not  do  credit  to  his  foreign  training.  All  the 
Verney  children  were  delicate,  and,  deprived  of  his 
mother's  care,  Edmund  developed  curvature  of  the 
spine,  and  grew  up  languid  and  moody.  Sir  Ralph 
placed  him  under  the  care  of  a  German  specialist,  one 
Herr  Skatt,  who  put  him  in  irons  day  and  night  so  that 

1   Verney  Memoirs. 


THE  PRIVATE  TUTOR  73 

he  could  only  have  a  clean  shirt  at  long  intervals  and 
with  great  ceremony.  No  wonder  he  seemed  spiritless. 
His  tutor,  Dr.  Creighton,  reported  of  him  that  he  was 
self-willed  and  loved  his  bed  too  well,  and  his  father 
was  continually  reproaching  him  with  being  lazy, 
slovenly,  and  tedious.  Had  he  been  made  a  Wyke- 
hamist, like  his  cavalier  uncle,  he  would  probably  have 
turned  out  a  very  different  sort  of  lad. 

Two  of  Lord  Cork's  numerous  sons,  the  two  middle 
ones,  Lewis  and  Roger,  who  in  early  boyhood  had  been 
created  Lords  Kinalmeakie  and  Broghill,  in  recognition 
of  their  father's  distinguished  services,  were  sent  abroad 
to  finish  their  education  under  the  care  of  a  tutor,  after 
having  been  grounded  at  home  under  masters  both 
French  and  English.1  The  tutor  selected  for  the  charge 
was  M.  Marcombe,  a  native  of  Auvergne,  and  graduate 
of  the  University  of  Geneva — a  Protestant,  of  course. 
He  proved  himself  a  most  faithful  and  devoted  friend, 
careful  alike  of  morals  and  of  expenses,  and  to  judge  by 
his  letters  to  their  father,  from  which  many  extracts  are 
given  in  the  life  of  their  sister,  Lady  Warwick,  he  must 
have  had  a  most  anxious  time  with  them.  Just  before 
going  into  Italy  they  were  joined  by  a  young  cousin, 
Boyle  Smith.  At  Genoa  this  lad  took  the  smallpox, 
and  the  unfortunate  tutor  was  distracted  between  the 
duties  of  nursing  the  patient,  preventing  the  other  two 
from  taking  the  infection,  and  at  the  same  time  keeping 
an  eye  on  them.  Despite  all  his  endeavours,  Lewis  and 
Roger  both  caught  the  disease,  and  though  he  nursed 
all  three  with  the  utmost  devotion,  the  poor  young 
cousin  died. 

Most  young  men  of  position  at  this  time  were  sent  to 
make  the  grand  tour  and  see  the  world,  some,  as  in  the 
case  of  the  young  Boyles,  with  a  bear-leader  to  keep 
them  out  of  mischief;  many,  especially  in  the  early 
part  of  the  century,  attached  to  the  household  of  some 

1  Maty  Rich,  Countess  of  War-wick,  by  C.  Fell  Smith. 


74      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

relative  or  friend  of  their  father  who  held  a  diplomatic 
appointment  abroad.  This,  of  course,  had  great  ad- 
vantages for  those  whose  lines  were  cast  in  high 
places,  as  it  afforded  them  access  to  the  best  society,  and, 
moreover,  gave  them  an  insight  into  foreign  affairs 
and  diplomatic  relations  very  useful  in  after  life.  Mr. 
Peacham,  however,  in  his  Compleat  Gentleman,  rather 
deprecates  the  custom  of  placing  boys  as  pages  in  great 
houses,  or  sending  them  to  France  or  Italy  '  to  see  the 
4  fashions  and  mend  their  manners,  where  they  become 
i  ten  times  worse.'  To  see  too  much  of  the  great  world 
too  early  may  not  have  been  altogether  advisable  ;  still 
in  such  cases  as  those  of  Kenelm  Digby  and  Endymion 
Porter,  it  seems  to  have  had  its  advantages.  The 
former,  with  his  quickness  of  apprehension  and  his 
graceful  address,  must  have  picked  up  much  in  the 
household  of  his  cousin,  Sir  John  Digby,  afterwards 
Lord  Bristol,  which  must  have  been  of  great  value  to 
him  later,  and  his  kinsman  evidently  had  a  very 
fatherly  eye  to  his  good  behaviour  while  under  his 
roof. 

Endymion  Porter  was  sent  into  Spain  for  education 
very  early  with  his  little  brother  Tom,  the  latter  being 
put  to  school  at  Valencia,  while  Endymion  was  placed 
as  page  in  the  household  of  Olivarez.  Spain  was  at  that 
time,  as  his  biographer  observes,  a  school  of  dignified 
bearing  and  self-restraint,  duelling  being  much  dis- 
couraged, although,  as  we  learn  from  the  Memoirs  of 
Lord  Herbert,  it  was  rampant  in  France  and  also  in 
Italy.1  That  the  Spanish  training  in  Endymion's  case 
had  been  good  was  testified  by  the  approval  of  the 

1  Mr.  Rawdon  being  about  to  fight  a  duel  about  some  ladies  whom  he 
visited  with  a  Spaniard  at  Teneriffe,  the  Spaniard  said  :  '  I  am  informed  itt 
*  is  quite  out  of  fashion  in  the  Court  of  Spaine  for  aney  gentleman  to  be 
'  known  to  quarrell  about  woemen,  and  them  that  did  itt  were  only  held  for 
«  fooles  and  cokscombes,  and  consequently  itt  could  be  noe  creditt  for  niether 
'  of  them  to  doe  itt.'  Whereupon  they  adjusted  their  quarrel.—  Life  of 
Marmaduke  Rawdon. 


THE  PRIVATE  TUTOR  75 

Prince  of  Wales,  soon  to  become  King  Charles,  who 
was  so  much  pleased  with  his  manners  and  accomplish- 
ments as  to  give  him  a  post  about  his  own  person. 
Approval  from  such  a  quarter  meant  a  good  deal,  for 
Charles  was  by  no  means  easily  pleased,  nor,  like  his 
father  King  James,  disposed  to  an  easy  tolerance  for 
excesses  or  misconduct  in  any  one  who  pleased  his 
fancy.  Fastidious  as  to  manners,  severe  as  to  morals, 
his  court  was  closed  against  any  one  of  notorious  ill 
repute,  and  no  one  who  was  once  seen  the  worse  for 
drink  was  ever  again  permitted  in  his  presence. 

Endymion's  artistic  and  musical  tastes  no  doubt 
recommended  him  to  the  favourable  notice  of  his  royal 
master,  for  Charles  was  a  lover  of  both  painting  and 
music,  and  was  himself  an  excellent  performer  on  the 
viol  da  gamba,  which  he  studied  under  Coperario. 
Music  was  considered  quite  as  essential  a  feature  in  the 
education  of  boys  as  of  young  gentlewomen,  and  King 
James  showed  much  anxiety  for  the  progress  of  his  sons 
both  in  music  and  dancing.1  In  a  letter  written  by  him 
from  Theobalds  when  they  were  quite  children,  he 
urges  them  to  practise  their  dancing  privately,  'tho' 
they  whistle  and  sing  to  each  other  for  music.'  Prince 
Henry  danced  beautifully,  according  to  the  testimony  of 
the  Constable  of  Castille,  who  describes  a  ball  given  in 
his  honour  at  Whitehall  in  1604.2 

This  young  prince  was  considered  a  mirror  of  graces 
and  accomplishments,  and  was  of  a  decidedly  serious 
turn  of  mind,  though  perhaps  not  quite  so  much  devoted 
to  books  as  his  younger  brother.  A  story  is  told  of  him 
that  he  one  day  took  up  the  cap  of  the  Archbishop 
Abbott  that  chanced  to  have  been  left  lying  on  the 
table,  and  clapped  it  on  the  head  of  his  little  brother 
with  the  remark  that  if  he  minded  his  book  so  well,  he 
would  make  him  Archbishop  of  Canterbury.  The  tutor 

1  Hawkins's  History  of  Music. 

2  England  as  seen  by  Foreigners,  Rye. 


76      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

of  the  young  princes  was  Mr.  Thomas  Murray,  whose 
daughter  Anne  has  left  a  very  charming  record  of  her 
own  life,  though  unhappily  he  died  so  early  that  of  him 
she  has  little  or  nothing  to  say.  To  judge  by  the  tone 
of  his  own  household,  as  well  as  by  the  minds  of  his 
pupils,  he  must  have  been  a  man  to  inculcate  sound 
religious  principles,  and  in  both  Henry  and  Charles 
religion  was  strong,  though  each  followed  a  different 
line.  Possibly  Henry  may  have  been  a  good  deal 
influenced  by  Sir  Edmund  Verney,  who  in  his  youth 
was  given  an  appointment  as  sewer  in  the  household  of 
the  prince,  and  between  whom  and  his  royal  master  a 
warm  friendship  sprang  up.  The  two  young  men 
seem  to  have  sympathised  in  their  preference  for  sim- 
plicity in  worship  and  for  the  tenets  of  the  reformed 
Protestantism  of  the  Continent,  which  had  been  gain- 
ing ground  for  some  years  amongst  the  English 
Puritans. 

The  early  death  at  the  age  of  eighteen  of  one  so  full 
of  hope  and  promise  was  deeply  deplored  by  the  whole 
nation,  and  it  has  often  been  remarked  that,  had  his  life 
been  spared,  England  might  have  escaped  the  fearful 
struggle  of  the  coming  years,  since  his  sympathies 
would  most  likely  have  been  with  the  Puritan  party. 
It  may  be  so  ;  yet  in  all  probability  it  would  have  been 
at  the  cost  not  only  of  the  constitution,  but  of  the  very 
existence  of  the  Church  of  England.  Better  the  struggle, 
better  even  the  life  laid  down,  than  that  England  should 
have  lost  the  heritage  secured  to  her  at  the  price  of  the 
king's  death. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE   UNIVERSITY 

THE  young  gentleman,  trained  either  under  a  tutor  or  in 
the  rougher  discipline  of  a  public  school,  is  now  ready 
to  proceed  to  Oxford  or  Cambridge.  In  the  latter  case, 
having  learned  some  self-reliance,  it  will  probably  not 
be  necessary  that  his  *  governor  for  manners  '  go  along 
with  him,  but  the  Compleat  Gentleman  will  provide  him 
with  the  most  precise  directions  'for  a  gentleman's 
carriage  at  the  universitie.'  So  young  as  many  boys 
were  sent,  it  was  no  wonder  parents  hardly  liked  to 
trust  them  to  their  own  guidance.  The  usual  age  was 
from  fourteen  to  sixteen,  but  they  were  frequently  sent 
as  early  as  twelve.  *  Many  fathers/  to  quote  from  Mr. 
Peacham,1  <  take  them  from  school  too  early,  as  birds 
'  out  of  the  nest  before  they  be  flidge  ;  .  .  .  these  young 
'  things  of  twelve  or  thirteen  have  no  more  care  than  to 

*  expect  the  carrier,  and  where  to  sup  Fridaies  or  fast- 
'  ing  nights  :  no  further  thought  of  Study  than  to  trim 
'  up  their  Studies  with  pictures,  and  place  the  fairest 

*  Bookes  in  openest  view,  which,  poore  lads,  they  scarce 
1  ever   open    or   understand.      There  is,'  he  goes  on, 

*  such  a  disproportion  between  Aristotle's  Categories  and 
'  their  childish  capacities  that  they  are  caught  up  like 

*  young  lapwings  by  a  buzzard,  by  the  sweetness  of 
'  Libertye  and  varietie  of  Company,  and  many  kindes  of 
(  recreation  in  towne  and    fieldes  abroad   rather  than 

1  Compleat  Gentleman. 

77 


78       HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

*  attempt  the   difficulties   of  so   rough   and   terrible  a 
<  passage.'     He  now  addresses  himself  more  directly  to 
the  pupil : — 

4  With  the  gown  you  have  put  on  the  man.  Your 
'  first  care,  even  with  pulling  off  your  boots,  should  be 
'  the  choice  of  company.  Men  of  the  soundest  reputation 
'  for  Religion,  Life,  and  Learning,  that  their  conversa- 

*  tion  may  be  to  you  a  living  and  moving  library.     For 

*  recreation  seek  those  of  your  own  rank  and  quality/ 
Religion,   he  urges,  should  be  given  the  first  place  ; 
that  the  foundation  of  all   studies  be   'the  feare  and 
i  service  of  God,  by  oft  frequenting  prayer  and  sermons, 
(  reading  the  Scriptures  and  other  tractates  of  pietie 

*  and  devotion.' 

He  next  considers  the  various  studies  in  order, 
beginning  with  <  Stile,  and  the  History  of  Rhetorick.' 
This  comprises  what  we  mean  by  a  classical  education, 
viz.  Grammar,  Syntax,  Rhetoric ;  the  whole  art,  in 
short,  of  speaking  and  composing  in  verse  or  prose  in 
Latin  or  English.  Under  this  head  comes  a  short 
dissertation  on  the  care  of  books.  '  Affect  not  to  be 

*  stored  with   bookes  and   keepe  your  head  empty  of 
'  knowledge.      Lastly,    have   a  care   in   keeping  your 

*  bookes  handsome  and  well  bound,  not  casting  away 
i  overmuch  in  their  gilding  or  stringing  for  ostentation's 
'  sake,  like  the  Prayer-bookes  of  girles  and   gallants, 
1  which   are  carried  to  Church   but  for  their  outsides. 
'  Yet  for  your  own  use  spare  them  not  for  noting  or 
4  interlining  (if  they  be  printed),  for  it  is  not  likely  you 
1  mean  to  be  a  gainer  by  them  when  you  have  done 
'  with  them  :  neither  suffer  them  through  negligence  to 
'  be  mold  and  moth-eaten,  or  want  their  strings  and 
'  covers.  .  .  .  To  avoid  inconvenience  of  moathes  or 
'  moldinesse,  let  your  study  be  placed  and  your  windows 
<  open,   if  it   may   be,  towards  the   East,  for  when   it 
'  looketh  South  or  West,  the  aire  being  ever  subject  to 
'  moisture,  moathes  are  bred  and  darkishnesse  increased 


THE  UNIVERSITY  79 

1  whereby  your  mappes  and  pictures  will  quickly  become 

<  pale,  loosing  their  life  and  colours,  and  rotting  upon 

<  their   cloath    and    paper,    decay   past  all    helpe   and 

<  recoverie.'      Apropos   of  '  stringing/  it  may  not  be 
generally  known  that  books  at  that  date  were  usually 
finished  with  a  pair  of  strings  to  tie  the  covers  together, 
unless  there  was  a  clasp,  and  they  were  placed  on  the 
bookshelves  strings  outward. 

Next  comes  'Cosmographie,'  in  which  are  comprised 
Astronomy,  Astrology,  Geography,  and  Chorography, 
and  after  that  Mathematics. 

Poetry  follows,  of  which  he  remarks,  '  it  seemeth 
fallen  from  the  highest  stage  of  honour.*  This  seems 
a  singular  dictum  when  we  reflect  that  when  this  was 
published,  in  1622,  Shakespeare  was  but  six  years 
dead,  every  one  was  still  reading  Spenser's  Faery 
Queen,  and  Milton  some  twelve  years  later  published 
his  first  work,  the  Masque  of  Comus.  Moreover  to 
write,  read,  and  criticise  poetry  was  the  favourite 
occupation  of  the  leisure  of  all  men  of  culture,  and  not 
to  love  poetry  was  to  be  out  of  the  fashion.  After 
enumerating  the  classical  poets  of  antiquity,  Mr. 
Peacham  goes  on  to  the  English  poets,  and  his  list  of 
these  is  very  interesting  and  curious,  for  what  it  omits 
as  well  for  what  it  includes.  '  Chaucer,  Gower,  Lyd- 
1  gate,  Harding,  Skelton,  Surrey,  Wyat, — our  Phenix 

*  the  noble  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  Mr.  Edward  Dyer,  Mr. 
4  Edmund  Spenser,  Mr.  Samuel  Daniell,  with  sundrie 

*  others  whom,  not  out  of  envie  but  to  avoid  tedious- 

<  nesse   I   over   passe.      Thus   much   of    Poetrie.'      It 
appears   that   Shakespeare   then,    six    years    after    his 
death,  was  classed  with  '  sundrie  others '  who  might  be 
over-passed. 

The  foundations  being  thus  well  and  truly  laid, 
Music  was  to  have  its  due  place.  '  Whom  God  loves 
not,  loves  not  Musicke.'  '  Physitians  will  tell  you 
'  that  the  exercise  of  Musicke  is  a  great  lengthener  of 


8o       HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

'  life  by  stirring  and  reviving  of  the  spirits,  holding  a 
'  secret  sympathy  with  them.'  Having  thus  strongly 
recommended  his  favourite  art,  he  proceeds  to  detail, 
advising  the  study  of  certain  madrigals  and  motets,  and 
the  practice  of  part-singing.  Part-music,  both  for  voice 
and  instrument,  was  at  this  time  very  much  in  fashion 
at  Oxford,  as  we  learn  from  Anthony  Wood,  who 
mentions  the  meetings  for  the  practice  of  chamber 
music  which  used  to  take  place  at  the  house  of  Will 
Ellis,  Bachelor  of  Music,  who  played  the  organ  or 
virginals.  Wilson,  a  noted  lute-player,  was  one  of  the 
performers,  and  Edward  Low  would  sometimes  conduct, 
on  which  occasions  Ellis  would  take  up  the  counter- 
tenor or  viol,  and  Thomas  Jackson  the  bass-viol.  Wood 
does  not  mention  what  instrument  he  himself  played  at 
these  practices,  but  he  studied  the  violin  when  in  the 
country  in  a  somewhat  amateurish  manner. 

Next  in  importance  Mr.  Peacham  places  the  study  of 
drawing,  limning,  and  painting,  as  well  as  the  history 
of  Art,  and  some  knowledge  of  the  works  of  'Giotto, 
'  Masaccio,  Ghirlandaio,  Frier  Philipp  Lippi,  Raphael 
'  d'Urbino,  and  many  others. '  He  had  himself  published, 
in  1606,  a  treatise  on  The  Art  of  Drawing  with  the  Pen 
and  Limning  in  Water-colour^  the  more  particular 
consideration  of  which  will  be  fitter  for  another  place. 
1  Armorie  and  Blazonrie '  come  under  this  head,  as 
studies  proper  for  a  gentleman. 

The  'exercises  of  the  bodie'  recommended  comprise 
riding,  running,  leaping,  tilting,  throwing,  wrestling, 
swimming,  shooting,  and  falconry.  It  is  singular  he 
has  not  included  the  manege  of  the  great  horse,  of  which 
Lord  Herbert  makes  so  much. 

He  winds  up  with  some  hints  on  '  Reputation  and 
Carriage/  which  are  too  long  to  quote  in  full.  To 
keep  good  company  he  enjoins  as  of  the  first  importance. 
Frugality  and  a  moderate  diet  are  to  be  recommended. 
*  Excesse  in  eating  and  drinking  (and  let  me  add  in 


THE  UNIVERSITY  81 

4  smoking)  impaire  the  health.'  '  Affabilitie  in  Dis- 
course '  has  a  paragraph  to  itself ;  '  giving  entertain- 
'  ment ••'  in  a  sweet  and  liberal  manner,  and  with  a 
4  cheerful  courtesie  seasoning  your  talk  at  the  table 
4  among  grave  and  serious  discourses  with  conceipts  of 
'  wit  and  pleasant  inventions,  as  ingenious  Epigrames, 

<  Emblems,  Anagrams,  Merry  Tales,  witty  Questions 
'  and  Answers,  Mistakings,  etc.'     It  must  be  admitted, 
however,  that  the  specimens  of  wit  which  he  gives  do 
not  seem  to  modern  taste  in  the  least  funny. 

Lord  Herbert's  ideal  scheme  for  the  training  of  youth 
varies  from  this  in  some  particulars,  though  he  echoes 
Mr.  Peacham's  advice  to  'keep  the  company  of  grave 
learned  men,  who  are  of  good  reputation.'1  He  thinks 
the  course  of  study  should  vary  according  to  the  kind 
of  life  for  which  the  young  men  are  to  be  fitted.  '  I  do 
'  not  approve  for  elder  brothers,'  he  says,  '  that  course 
1  of  study  which  is  ordinarily  used  at  the  University, 
'  which  is,  if  their  parents  perchance  intend  they  shall 
1  stay  there  four  or  five  years,  to  employ  the  said  time 
'  as  if  they  meant  to  proceed  Masters  of  Art  and 
'  Doctors  in  some  science  ;  for  which  purpose  their 
'  tutors  commonly  spend  much  time  in  teaching  them 
'  the  subtleties  of  logic,  which,  as  it  is  usually  practised, 

*  enables   them    for   little   more   than    to   be    excellent 
1  wranglers,  which  art,  though  it  may  be  tolerable  in  a 
'  mercenary  lawyer,  I  can  by  no  means  commend  to  a 
'  sober  and  well-governed  gentleman. 

'  I  approve  much   those   parts  of  logic  which  teach 

<  men  to  deduce  their  proofs  from  firm  and  undoubted 
'  principles,  and  shew  men  to  distinguish  betwixt  truth 
'  and   falsehood,  and   help   them  to  discover  fallacies, 

*  sophisms,  and  that  which  the  schoolmen  call  vicious 
'  argumentations,  concerning  which    I   shall   not  here 

*  enter  into  a  long  discourse.      So  much  of  logic  as 
'  may  serve  for  this  purpose  being  acquired,  some  good 

1  Life  of  Lord  Herbert  of  Chtrbury. 
F 


82       HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

1  sum  of  philosophy  may  be  learned,  which  may  teach 
'  him  the  ground  of  both  the  Platonic  and  Aristotelian 
'  philosophy.  After  which  it  will  not  be  amiss  to  read 
'  the  Idea  Medicince  Philosophicce  written  by  Severus 
'  Danus,  there  being  many  things  considerable  con- 
'  cerning  the  Paracelsian  principles  written  in  that 
1  book,  which  are  not  to  be  found  in  former  writers. 
4  It  will  not  be  amiss  also  to  read  over  Franciscus 
'  Patricius,  and  Tilesius,  who  have  examined  and 
4  controverted  the  ordinary  Peripatetic  doctrine  ;  all 
'  which  may  be  performed  in  one  year,  that  term  being 

*  enough  for  philosophy,  as  I  conceive,  and  six  months 
'  for  logic  ;  for  I  am  confident  a  man  may  quickly  have 
'  more  than  he  needs  of  those  two  arts. 

'These  being  attained,  it  will  be  requisite  to  study 
'  geography  with  exactness,  so  much  as  may  teach  a 
1  man  the  situation  of  all  countries  in  the  whole  world, 
'  together  with  which  it  will  be  fit  to  learn  something 
'  concerning  the  governments,  manners,  religions, 
'  either  ancient  or  new,  as  also  the  interests  of  states 
'  and  relations  in  amity  or  strength  in  which  they 
'  stand  to  their  neighbours.  It  will  be  necessary  also 
<  at  the  same  time  to  learn  the  use  of  the  celestial 
1  globe,  the  studies  of  both  globes  being  complicated 
'  and  joined  together.  I  do  not  conceive  yet  the 
1  knowledge  of  judicial  astrology  so  necessary,  but 
1  only  for  general  predictions,  particular  events  being 
'  neither  intended  by  nor  collected  out  of  the  stars. 

'  It  will  be  also  fit  to  learn  arithmetic  and  geometry 
'  in  some  good  measure,  but  especially  arithmetic,  it 
'  being  most  useful  for  many  purposes,  and  among 
'  the  rest  for  keeping  accounts,  whereof  here  is  much 
'  use.  As  for  the  knowledge  of  lines,  superficies,  bodies, 

*  though  it  be  a  science  of  much  certainty  and  demon- 
'  stration,  it  is  not  much  useful  for  a  gentleman,  unless 
'  it  be  to  understand  fortifications,  the  knowledge  whereof 
'  is  worthy  of  those  who  intend  the  wars.  ...  It  will 


THE  UNIVERSITY  83 

4  become  a  gentleman  to  have  some  knowledge  in 
1  medicine/  Anent  this  the  writer  goes  off  into  a  long 
dissertation  on  diseases,  concluding, — f  In  the  mean- 
'  while  I  conceive  it  is  a  fine  study,  and  worthy  a 
'  gentleman  to  be  a  good  botanic  that  so  he  may  know 

*  the  nature  of  all  herbs  and  plants,  being  our  fellow- 
'  creatures,  and  made  for  the  use  of  man  ;   for  which 
'  purpose  it  will   be   fit  for  him  to  cull   out  of  some 
'  good  herbal  all  the  icones,  together  with  the  descrip- 

*  tions  of  them,  and  to  lay  by  themselves  all  such  as 
'  grow  in  England  ;  and  afterwards  to  select  again  such 

*  as  usually  grow  by  the  high-way  side,  in   meadows, 
'  by  rivers,  or  in  marshes,  or  in  corn-fields,  or  in  dry 
4  and  mountainous   places,   or   on  rocks,   walls,   or  in 
'  shady  places,  such  as  grow  by  the  sea-side  ;  for  this 
'  being   done,    and   the   said   icones    being    ordinarily 
'  carried  by  themselves  or  by  their  servants,  one  may 
'  presently  find  out  every  herb  he  meets  withal,  especially 
'  if  the  said  flowers  be  truly  coloured.      Afterwards  it 
'  will  not  be  amiss  to  distinguish  by  themselves  such 
'  herbs  as  are   in   gardens  and  are  exotics,    and   are 
'  transplanted  hither.' 

He  too  gives  a  very  high  and  important  place  to 
theology  and  practical  morality,  and  finally  touches 
on  the  exercises  of  the  body,  such  as  dancing,  fencing, 
and  riding  the  great  horse. 

Over  against  these  ideal  pictures  of  what  a  young 
man  should  know  and  be  we  may  place  Dr.  Earle's 
satirical  sketches  of  what  was  in  '  A  Young  Gentleman 
at  the  University,'  or  '  A  Downright  Scholar.' 1  Of  the 
first  he  says  : — 

'He  is  one  that  comes  there  to  wear  a  gown  and 
say  hereafter  he  has  been  at  the  University.'  His 
father  sends  him  because  it  is  considered  the  best 
school  of  dancing  and  fencing.  The  two  marks  of 
seniority  he  attains  are  the  bare  velvet  of  his  gown 

1  Microcosmography . 


84      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

and  his  proficiency  at  tennis.     *  His  study  has  commonly 
'  handsome  shelves,  his  books  neat  silk  strings,  which 

*  he  shews  to  his  father's  man,  and  is  loth  to  unty  or 

*  take   down   for  fear   of  misplacing.  .  .  .  Upon   foul 
6  days   he   retires  thither,    and   looks   over  the   pretty 
'  book    his   tutor   reads   to   him,    which   is   commonly 

*  some  short  history,  or  a   piece  of  Euphormius  ;   for 

*  which  his  tutor  gives  him  money  to  spend  next  day. 

*  His  main  loytering  is  at  the  library,  where  he  studies 
'  Arms  and  Books  of  Honour,  and  turns  a  gentleman 
1  critical  in  pedigrees.  .  .  .  But  he  is  now  gone  to  the 
'Inns  of  Court  where   he  studies  to   forget  what  he 
4  learned  before.'     This  sketch  might,  I  think,  fit  some 
in  our  own  day. 

Contrast  with  this  'The  Downright  Scholar.'  Of 
him  the  good  bishop  remarks,  *  His  fault  is  only  this, 
'  that  his  mind  is  too  much  taken  up  with  his  mind. 
4  ...  He  has  not  humbled  his  meditations  to  the 
4  industry  of  compliment,  nor  afflicted  his  brains  in  an 

*  elaborate  leg  ;  .  .  .  his  scrape  is  homely  and  his  nod 
4  worse.     He  cannot  kiss  hands  and  cry  Madam,  nor 
1  talk  idle  enough  to  bear  her  company.     His  smacking 
4  of  a  gentlewoman  is  somewhat  too  savoury,  and   he 
1  mistakes  her  nose  for  her  lips.' 

At  table  the  downright  scholar  had  no  better  success. 

*  A  very  woodcock  would  puzzle  him  in  carving,  and  he 
'  wants  the  logic  of  a  capon.      He  has  not  the  glib 
'  faculty  of  sliding  over  a  tale,   but  his  words  come 
1  squeamishly  out  of  his  mouth,  and  the  laughter  com- 

*  monly  before  the  jest.    He  names  the  word  college  too 
'  often,  and  his  discourse  bears  too  much  on  the  univer- 
'  sity.     The  perplexity  of  mannerliness  will  not  let  him 
1  feed,  and  he  is  sharp-set  at  an  argument  when  he 
'  should  cut  his  meat.     He  is  discarded  for  a  gamester 
6  at  all   games  but  one-and-thirty,    and   at  tables    he 
1  reaches  not  beyond  doublets.      His  fingers  are   not 
1  long  and  drawn-out  to   handle  a  fiddle,   but  his  fist 


THE  UNIVERSITY  85 

<  clenched  with  the  habit  of  disputing.     He  ascends  a 

*  horse  somewhat  sinisterly,  though  not  on  the  left  side, 

*  and  they  both  go  jogging  to  grief  together.     He  is 
'  exceedingly  censured  by  the  Inns  of  Court  men  for 

*  that  heinous  vice  of  being  out  of  fashion.     He  cannot 
'  speak  to  a  dog  in  his  own  dialect,  and  understands 
'  Greek  better  than  the  language  of  a  falconer.  .  .  .  But 
'  practise  him  a  little  in  men,  and  break  him  over  with 
t  good  company,  and  he  shall  out-balance  these  glis- 

*  terers,  as  far  as  a  solid  substance  does  a  feather,  or 

*  gold,  gold-lace.' 

These  fancy  sketches  may  be  taken  as  fairly  typical : 
they  have  the  stamp  of  human  nature,  either  of  this 
century  or  of  that,  upon  them.  Personal  reminiscences, 
though  they  may  be  found  scattered  here  and  there 
among  the  correspondence  of  the  day,  are  slight  and 
fragmentary.  The  records  which  Anthony  Wood  so 
industriously  compiled  of  all  the  men  of  his  day  at 
Oxford,  are  singularly  wanting  in  the  small  personal 
details  which  add  life  to  the  picture,  but  his  own  recol- 
lections supply  a  few  little  touches  of  quaint  customs 
which  were  old  when  he  was  at  Merton.1  He  did  not 
matriculate  till  1647,  near  the  end  of  the  half-century, 
and  the  traditions  he  notes  disappeared,  he  says,  after 
the  war.  One  may  well  believe  it, — Oxford  can  have 
been  in  no  mood  for  fooling. 

On  All  Saints'  Eve  and  Day,  Christmas  Eve  and 
Day,  Candlemas,  and  other  holidays,  there  was 
always  a  charcoal  fire  in  hall,  and  round  it  the  under- 
graduates would  congregate,  and  bringing  freshmen 
into  the  midst  would  require  them  to  'tell  a  story, 
1  speak  some  pretty  apothegm,  some  merry  jest  or  bull,' 
and  if  they  proved  dull  would  'tuck'  them.  It  is  a 
pity  he  did  not  vouchsafe  any  explanation  of  this  bit 
of  seventeenth-century  slang.  On  Shrove  Tuesday, 
after  the  Fellows'  dinner,  freshmen  had  to  stand  on  a 

1  Wood's  Athena  Oxonienses. 


86      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

form  and  deliver  a  speech,  after  which  they  were  re- 
galed with  a  cup  of  caudle  or  salted  drink,  and  an 
oath  was  administered  by  the  senior  cook  over  an 
old  shoe. 

Nothing  of  this  kind  is  touched  upon  in  Ralph 
Verney's  letters.  He  was  at  Magdalen  Hall,  at  that 
day  a  very  favourite  college  with  the  leading  Puritan 
families,  especially  those  of  Buckinghamshire,  in  which 
county  Hampden's  influence  was  strong.  In  the  reign 
of  James  i.  it  was  described  as  a  '  nest  of  Puritans/  and 
it  maintained  its  character  in  spite  of  Laud's  powerful 
influence  through  the  rest  of  Oxford.  Edward  Hyde, 
afterwards  Lord  Clarendon,  was  there,  having  failed 
to  obtain  a  demyship  at  Magdalen,  and  not  impro- 
bably owed  to  its  influence  the  leaning  towards  the 
parliamentary  party  that  marked  the  beginning  of  his 
career.  He  matriculated  about  1621,  being  then  but 
thirteen  years  of  age,  but  precocious,  having  not  only 
been  well  taught  but  made  the  constant  companion  of 
a  cultivated  father.  About  his  time  would  be  William 
Den  ton,  who  afterwards  practised  in  Oxford  as  a 
physician.  In  him  was  the  combination,  not  unusual 
at  that  date,  of  sound  royalist  principles  with  Puritanic 
leanings  in  religion.  He  was  followed  within  a  few 
years  by  his  nephew,  Ralph  Verney,  who  was  but 
seven  years  his  junior.  Ralph  does  not  seem  at  this 
time  to  have  developed  his  delightful  habit  of  volum- 
inous correspondence,  but  letters  from  his  tutor,  Mr. 
Crowther,  give  a  few  details  as  to  the  course  of  study.1 

The  difficulty  of  obtaining  good  text-books  seems  to 
have  been  considerable,  and  every  man  had  more  or 
less  to  compile  his  own — no  doubt  to  the  great  strength- 
ening of  his  memory,  clearness  of  view,  and  firmness  of 
grasp.  Mr.  Crowther  sends  Ralph  astronomy  notes 
which  he  had  himself  put  together  for  his  pupil's  use, 
with  a  sheet  containing  'the  differences  and  computes 

1    Verney  Letters.     Camden  Society. 


THE  UNIVERSITY  87 

of  time.'  In  a  later  letter  he  sent  a  general  scheme 
of  the  arts  and  a  genealogy  of  the  kings.  He  begs 
that  his  pupil  will  devote  from  three  to  four  hours 
a  day  to  logic  and  divinity.  In  another  letter  he 
writes  : — 

< 1  have  not  yet  initiated  you  into  the  science  of 
1  Geography.  If  you  cannot  have  leisure  to  come  over 
1  hither,  I  '11  attend  you  for  a  week  or  soe  at  Claydon 

*  till  I  have  shewed  you  the  principal  grounds.'    Young 
Ralph,  be   it   observed,  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  was 
already   married,    and   spending    part  of   his    time    at 
home  with  his  young  wife  who  lived  with  his  parents, 
and  going  to  and  fro  between  his  home  and  Oxford, 
which  was  at  no  great  distance.     There  are  frequent 
references  to  loans  of  books :  i  If  you  have  done  with 
'  my  Bilson,  send  him.      At  a  sale  of  a  study  at  the 
1  second  hand,  I  have  bought  two  books,  scarce  to  be 
1  had,   and   fit  for  your  use,   Grymston's  Estates  and 
'  Principalities  of  the  World,  205.,  and  The  History  of 
1  Venice,  ios.,  which  I  will  let  you  have  or  reserve  them 
'  myself  at  your  pleasure.' 

Ralph  seems  to  have  acquired  a  fair  knowledge  of 
Latin,  indulging  occasionally  in  Latin  quotations  in 
his  letters,  and  possessed  some  *  Latine  Historyes,'  but 
there  is  no  mention  of  Greek  either  for  him  or  for  his 
brother.  The  young  Verneys  were  by  no  means  men 
of  scholarly  tastes  :  Edmund,  who  turned  out  the  best 
of  all  Sir  Edmund's  sons,  seems  to  have  been  rather 
a  wild  lad,  absenting  himself  from  lectures  and  chapels, 
and  running  up  tavern  scores.  Mr.  Crowther,  when 
he  read  with  him,  declared,  '  He  hath  wholy  lost  his 

*  time  at  Oxford,   and  understands   not  the  very  first 
1  ground  of  logicke  or  other  university  learning,   and 
'  hath  no  books  to  initiate  him  in  it.' 

Details  of  expense  and  so  forth  come  out  in  the 
correspondence.  Sir  Edmund  writes  to  Ralph  :  *  I  pray 

*  you  send  your  brother  to  Oxford  as  soone  as  you  can  ; 


88      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 


4  I  will  allow  him  £qo  a  year,  and  hee  shall  have  a 
(  cloath  sute  made  him  against  Easter  or  sooner  if  need 
4  require.  Advise  him  to  husband  it  well  ;  for  I  knowe 
4  it  may  maintaine  him  well  if  hee  will  ;  and  more  I 
4  will  not  allow  him.'  In  a  later  letter:  'Now  for 
4  Mun,  I  did  ever  intende  to  pay  for  his  gowne  over 
'  and  above  his  allowance.'  Not  every  young  man 
had  as  much.  It  is  computed  to  be  worth  not  much 
less  than  £200  at  the  present  value  of  money. 
There  is  mention  in  the  Harley  letters  of  one  who  had 
to  content  himself  with  half.  Lady  Brilliana  writes  to 
her  son  :  *  Mr.  Griffits  was  with  me  this  day  ;  he  tells 
me  he  will  alow  Gorge  at  Oxford  £20  a  year.'  Fees  to 
tutors  seem  to  have  been  at  discretion,  for  Edmund 
writes  to  his  brother  :  l  According  to  your  desire  I 

*  asked  Mr.   Sessions  what  it  were  fit  for  me  to  give 
'  my  Tutour.     He  told  me  Mr.  Jones  gives  him  £i,  55. 

*  the  quarter,  and  that  he  would  advise  me  to  give  him 
4  the  lyke.'     Soon  after   going  to   Oxford   he   writes: 
'  Oxford  and  my  Tutour  I  lyke  very  well.     The  Vice 
4  Chancellor  spoke  to  me  very  courteously  when  I  came 

*  to  be  matriculated,  he  could  not  find  fault  with  my 
'  Haire  because  I  had  cut  itt  before  I  went  to  him.' 
Love-locks  were  not  encouraged  at  Oxford,  in  spite  of 
their  becoming   later  a   badge   of  loyalism.     Fasting- 
days  were  observed,  but  the  young  Verneys,  like  the 
Boyles,   had  probably  not  been  brought  up  to  those 
customs  ;  and   Dr.   Browne  of  Christ  Church,   having 
caught  Mun  at  a  Friday  supper  *  with  a  Master  of  Arts 
and  two  Batchelors/  he  was  bidden  to  present  himself 
next    morning.      As    in    his   school   days,    he   was    in 
frequent  scrapes,  but  after  leaving  Oxford  he  was  sent 
to  his  grandmother  and  uncle  at  Hillesden,  and  under 
that  wholesome  influence  it  soon  appeared  that  his  wild 
oats  were  sown,  and  he  turned  out  the  worthy  son  of  a 
very  noble  father. 

In  the  Letters  of  Lady  Brilliana  Harley  to  her  son 


THE  UNIVERSITY  89 

at  Oxford,  published  by  the  Camden  Society,  we  get 
a  glimpse  of  the  home  side,  of  the  anxieties  of  a  very 
careful  and  tender  mother,  her  advice  as  to  health  and 
religion,  her  provision  for  his  comfort,  her  little  bits 
of  home  news,  with  occasional  glimpses  of  public 
affairs.  Alas!  that  the  corresponding  letters,  his  to 
her,  should  have  been  lost :  they  would  have  been 
absolutely  priceless,  for  this  mother  and  son  were  on 
terms  of  closest  confidence,  and  he  must  have  told  her 
many  details  of  his  daily  life.  He  was,  of  course,  also 
at  Magdalen  Hall,  the  only  college  where  such  strict 
Puritans  as  Sir  Robert  Harley  and  Lady  Brilliana 
would  have  trusted  their  boy. 

The  carrier,  as  Dr.  Earle  observed,  was  a  great 
institution  :  nearly  all  the  letters  were  sent  by  him, 
and  seem  always  to  have  come  safe  to  hand  if  some- 
thing long  on  the  road,  but  those  entrusted  to  the 
newly  established  post  by  Shrewsbury  or  Ludlow 
frequently  went  astray.  By  the  carrier,  too,  travelled 
hampers  containing  all  manner  of  good  things — 'bis- 
kates,'  'meath,'  turkey  pie;  or  if  the  careful  mother 
hears  of  a  cold,  lickerish  water,  or  for  ague,  'oram- 
potabily.'1  At  the  beginning  of  his  residence  there 
seems  to  have  been  a  doubt  whether  the  hamper  was 
desired,  for  she  writes  : — 

'  Deare  Ned,  if  you  would  have  anythinge,  send  me 
*  word  ;  or  if  I  thought  a  cold  pye,  or  such  a  thinge, 
1  would  be  of  any  plesure  to  you,  I  would  send  it  you. 
'  But  your  father  says  you  care  not  for  it,  and  Mrs. 
'  Pirson  tells  me,  when  her  sonne  was  at  Oxford,  and 
4  shee  sent  him  such  thinges,  he  prayed  her  that  shee 
'  would  not.'  He  seems  to  have  set  her  mind  at  ease 
on  the  subject,  for  next  year  we  read  : — 

' 1  haue  made  a  pye  to  send  you  ;  it  is  a  kide  pye. 
'  I  beleeue  you  haue  not  that  meate  ordinarily  at 

'  Aurum  potabile' — described  in   1708   as  'gold   made   liquid  ...  or 
some  rich  Cordial  Liquor,  with  pieces  of  Leaf-gold  in  it. ' 


90      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

'  Oxford  ;  on  halfe  of  the  pye  is  seasned  with  on  kind 
4  of  seasning,  and  the  other  with  another.     I    thinke 

*  to  send  it  by  this  carrier.'     And  in  the  autumn  :  '  By 
'  a  safe   hand  I  haue  sent   you  a  baskett  of   Stoken 

*  apells  ;  theare  are  4  or  5  of  another  kinde.     I  hope 
'  you  will   not  dispice  them,   comeing  from  a  frinde, 
1  though  they  are  not  to  be  compared  to  Oxford  appells. 
'  In  the  baskett  with  the  appells  is   "the  Returne  of 
'  Prayer."      I  could  not  find  the  place  I  spake  of  to 
'  your  tutor,  when  he  was  with  me ;  but  since  I  found 

*  it,  and  haue  sent  the  booke  to  you,  that  he  may  see 

*  it,  and  judg  a  littell  of  it.' 

With  this  tutor  she  seems  to  have  had  a  warm  friend- 
ship ;  hardly  a  letter  goes  without  a  message  to  him. 
One  would  gather  that  he  was  a  private  tutor  or 
1  governor  for  manners,'  as  he  appears  to  have  had 
so  much  personal  charge  of  the  young  man's  health 
and  expenses,  and  to  have  travelled  down  with  him 
when  he  went  home.  There  are  a  good  many  little 
details  as  to  shirts  and  'handkerchers.'  This  little 
extract  is  quaint : — '  I  like  the  stufe  for  your  cloths 
'  well ;  but  the  cullor  of  thos  for  euery  day  I  doo  not 

<  like  so  well ;  but  the  silke  chamlet  I  like  very  well, 

*  both  cullor  and  stuf.     Let  your  stokens  be  allways  of 
'  the  same  culler  of  your  cloths,  and  I  hope  you  now 
1  weare  Spanisch  leather  shouwes.     If  your  tutor  dous 
1  not  intend  to  bye  you  silke  stokens  to   weare  with 
'  your  silke  shute  send  me  word,  and  I  will,  if  pleas 
'  God,  bestow  a  peare  on  you.     You  did  well  to  keepe 
1  the  beasorstone  and  orampotabily  with  you.     I  thinke 
6  I  forgot  to  rwite  word  that  when  the  orampotabily  is 

<  taken  it  must  be  stired  tell  it  be  disolued.     Your  cosen 
'  Fraces  thinkes  it  will  doo  miracells.' 

John  Evelyn  must  have  been  a  contemporary  of  these 
young  men,  as  he  went  to  Oxford  about  1637,  but  in 
his  delightful  diary  he  makes  no  mention  of  any  of 
them  ;  but  then  he  was  at  Balliol,  and  besides,  as  a 


THE  UNIVERSITY  91 

strong  royalist  and  high  churchman,  would  not  have 
been  likely  to  mix  much  with  the  *  nest  of  Puritans,' 
for  party  feeling  already  began  to  run  high.  His  diary 
is  a  mine  of  information,  but  a  few  small  extracts  must 
suffice. 

'  On  the  29th  (of  May)  I  was  matriculated  in  the 
'  Vestrie  at  St.  Marie's,  where  I  subscribed  the  Articles 

*  and  took  the  oaths,  Dr.  Bailey,  head  of  St.  John's, 
4  being  Vice  Chancelor.   .   .   .   After  I  was  somewhat 
1  settled    there   in   my  formalities   (for    then   was    the 
'  University  exceedingly  regular,  under  the  exact  dis- 

*  cipline  of  William   Lawd,  Abp.  of  Canterbury,  then 
'  Chancelor,)  I  added  as  benefactor  to  the  Library  of 
4  the  Coll.  these  books  : 

4  Zanchii  Opera,  vols.   i,  2,  3;  Granado  in  Thomam 

*  Aquinatem,  vols.    i,    2,    3 ;    Noverini  Electa   Sacra. 
'  Authors  (it  seems)  desired  by  the  students  of  divinity 

*  there. 

4  1637. — At  Christmas  the  gentlemen  of  Exeter  College 
1  presented  a  Comedy  to  the  University. 

'  I  was  admitted  to  the  dauncing  and  vaulting  schole, 

*  of  which  late  activity  one  Stokes,  the  Master,  set  forth 

*  a  pretty  book,  which  was  published  with  many  witty 
'  elegies  before  it. 

1 1639. — I  began  to  look  on  the  rudiments  of  musick, 
'  in  which  I  afterwards  arriv'd  to  some  formal  know- 
'  ledg,  though  to  small  perfection  of  hand,  because  I 
1  was  so  frequently  diverted  by  inclinations  to  some 

*  newer  trifles. 

1  1640. — I  went  to  London  to  be  resident  in  the 
<  Middle  Temple.  My  being  at  the  University,  in 
1  regard  to  these  avocations,  was  of  very  small  benefit 
4  to  me.' 

The  life  at  the  sister  university  is  very  thoroughly 
described  in  Cambridge  in  the  Seventeenth  Century  by 
James  Bass  Mullinger.  Its  records  are  full  of  distin- 
guished names.  Milton  stands  first  and  foremost ;  Fuller, 


92      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

who  did  for  his  A  Ima  Mater  somewhat  the  same  service 
as  Wood  did  for  Oxford,  and  also  left  in  his  Worthies  an 
epitome  of  the  eminent  men  of  various  counties  ;  Seth 
Ward  and  Pearson,  Cleveland,  Crashaw,  Cudworth, 
Mede,  and  Jeremy  Taylor  might  all  have  been  met  in 
its  streets  before  the  end  of  the  first  quarter  of  the 
century.  Men  of  all  shades  of  opinion  were  there,  yet 
Puritanism  was  the  prevailing  note.  In  1637  Cosin  and 
Sterne  laid  before  Laud  a  complaint  that  instead  of  the 
Liturgy  heads  of  colleges  were  using  '  private  fancies 
and  prayers  of  their  own  making.*  In  Trinity  College 
it  was  stated  '  they  sit  or  kneel  at  prayers,  every  man  in 
*  a  several  posture  as  he  pleases  ;  at  the  name  of  Jesus 
4  few  will  bow  ;  and  when  the  Creed  is  repeated  many  of 
(  the  boys,  by  some  men's  direction,  turn  to  the  west 
'  door.' 

Mullinger's  book  gives  a  valuable  picture  of  the  daily 
routine.  Chapel  bell  went  at  five,  and  matins  was 
followed  by  a  short  homily  by  one  of  the  Fellows. 
Then  came  early  breakfast,  a  statement  I  take  leave  to 
doubt,  as  breakfast  as  a  definite  meal  was  at  that  time 
unknown, — some  people  took  a  trifling  refreshment  on 
first  rising,  but  the  custom  was  not  general.  Dinner  at 
eleven  or  twelve,  supper  at  five  or  six,  were  the  two 
regular  meals,  though  people  sometimes  indulged  in  a 
'  banquet'  or  refection  of  fruit  or  cake  in  the  afternoon. 
— To  return  to  the  work  which  followed  this  supposed 
breakfast.  This  consisted  of  the  college  lectures,  the 
lectures  of  the  university  professors,  the  disputations  of 
those  students  who  were  preparing  for  their  degree. 
Dinner  in  hall  was  at  twelve,  and  attendance  on  de- 
clamations or  disputations  either  in  the  college  chapel 
or  in  the  schools  followed.  Evening  chapel  and  supper 
in  hall  at  seven  concluded  the  working  day,  and  men 
employed  their  leisure  as  they  chose.  Rules  were  very 
strict :  residence  was  kept  the  whole  year,  and  absence 
only  permitted  for  strong  reasons.  The  course,  which 


THE  UNIVERSITY  93 

lasted  for  seven  years,  was  divided  into  Quadriennium 
and  Triennium.  Greek  and  geometry,  which  had 
hitherto  been  reserved  for  the  Triennium,  were  early  in 
this  century  introduced  into  the  undergraduate  course. 
The  arrangements  for  tuition  in  Trinity  College  are 
given  as  a  specimen.  Under  a  head  lecturer  were  eight 
other  lecturers,  each  teaching  and  examining  for  an  hour 
and  a  half  daily.  These  were  the  Lector  Humanitatis 
sive  Linguse  Latinse,  who  also  gave  weekly  lectures  on 
rhetoric  ;  the  Lector  Grascas,  Lector  Mathematical,  and 
four  sub-lectores  under  whom  the  students  advanced 
gradually  from  elementary  logic  to  higher  logic  and 
metaphysics.  Mathematics,  extremely  slight,  arith- 
metic, a  little  geometry,  and  such  astronomy  as  was 
then  taught  formed  the  subjects.  Three  years  after  the 
Restoration,  Henry  Lucas  founded  a  Professorship  of 
Mathematics.  So  small  was  the  knowledge  of  it  in  1634 
that  Seth  Ward,  lighting  upon  some  old  mathematical 
works  in  the  library  of  Sidney  Sussex,  could  find  no 
one  in  the  college  who  could  understand  them.  Bacon 
some  half-century  before  declared  that  i  the  gravest  of 
'  sciences  had  degenerated  into  childish  sophistry  and 
*  ridiculous  affectation,'  and  Milton  echoed  the  same 
opinion.  Rhetoric  and  logic,  pure  and  applied,  with 
the  classics,  were  the  favourite  studies.  Divinity  at  this 
time  was  not  publicly  taught. 

While  in  residence  students  were  strictly  confined 
within  the  walls  of  their  colleges,  and  only  allowed 
abroad  to  attend  the  schools.  They  could  go  into  the 
town  only  by  special  permission,  and  no  student  below 
a  B.A.  was  suffered  to  be  unaccompanied  by  his  tutor 
or  by  an  M.  A.  In  conversation  he  was  required  to  use 
Latin,  Greek,  or  Hebrew.  He  was  forbidden  taverns, 
boxing-matches,  skittle-playings,  dancings,  bear-fights, 
cock-fights,  or  Stourbridge  fair,  and  he  might  not  loiter 
in  the  street  or  market.  He  might  not  read  irreligious 
books  nor  have  such  in  his  rooms,  nor  keep  dogs  or 


94      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

*  fierce  birds,'  nor  play  cards    or  dice,   except  during 
twelve  days  at  Christmas.    Flogging  was  practised,  and 
Milton  was  both  flogged  and  rusticated  at  the  age  of 
fourteen.     At  a  visit  of  King  James  in   1615,  smoking 
was  forbidden,    '  not  only   in   the  streets,   but  in  St. 
Mary's  and  in  the  hall  of  Trinity.'     The  king  had  a 
well-known  aversion  to    the  practice  and   had  written 
against  it.    At  this  time,  it  appears,  undergraduates  were 
in  the  habit  of  wearing  '  new-fashioned  gowns  of  any 
4  colour  whatsoever,  blue  or  green  or  red  or  mixt  with- 
'  out  any  uniformity  but  in  hanging  sleeves  ;  and  their 
'  other  garments  light  and  gay,  some  with  boots  and 
'  spurs,  others  with  stockings  of  diverse  colours  reversed 
'  one  upon  another,  and  round  rusty  caps.' 

Sir  Simonds  d'Ewes,  a  Puritan  lad,  who  entered 
St.  John's  in  1620,  draws  in  his  journal  a  horrified 
picture  of  the  manners  of  the  time  as  they  struck  him. 
4 The  main  thing,' he  writes,  'that  made  me  weary  of 
'  the  college  was  that  swearing,  drinking,  rioting,  and 
'  hatred  of  all  piety  and  virtue  under  false  and  adulterate 
'  names  did  abound  there  and  generally  in  all  the  uni- 

*  versity.     Nay  the  very  sin  of  lust  began  to  be  known 
1  and  practised  by  very  boys,  so  that  I  was  fain  to  live 
'  almost  a  recluse's  life  conversing  chiefly  in  our  own 
'college  with  some  of  the   honester  fellows  thereof.' 
Something  must,  of  course,  be  allowed  for  the  point  of 
view,  and  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  Puritans 
had  a  habit  of  using  very  strong  language  about  all 
whose  opinions  and  practices  did   not  quite  coincide 
with  their  own.    A  little  further  on  he  remarks  :   '  None 
'  there   dared    to    commit   idolatry   by  bowing    to    or 
(  towards,  or  adoring  the  Altar,  the  Communion  Table, 
'  nor  the  Bread  and  Wine  in  the  Lord's  Supper.'     His 
attitude  may  be  inferred  from  this. 

He  was  greatly  scandalised,  too,  at  the  frequent  perform- 
ance of  stage  plays  both  in  Latin  and  English,  which 
were  so  greatly  in  fashion  just  then  both  at  the  universities 


THE  UNIVERSITY  95 

and  the  Inns  of  Court.  The  visits  of  royal  or  distinguished 
guests  were  generally  honoured  in  this  way,  for  King 
James  was  extremely  fond  of  these  entertainments,  and 
was  so  much  delighted  by  a  play  called  *  Ignoramus '  that 
he  saw  at  Cambridge  that  he  repeated  his  visit  for  the 
express  purpose  of  seeing  it  again.  No  doubt  there 
was  much  to  offend  a  severe  taste  in  these  perform- 
ances, a  good  deal  of  coarseness  as  well  as  a  licence  in 
speech  that  would  not  be  tolerated  nowadays,  and 
plenty  of  what  we  should  now  call  '  rowdyism  '  amongst 
the  audience.  The  undergraduates  smoked,  hissed, 
threw  pellets — in  short  behaved  as  undisciplined  youth 
is  apt  to  do,  to  the  great  scandal  of  those  more  seriously 
brought  up.  Upon  the  royal  visit  in  1632,  when  lax 
King  James  had  passed  away  and  his  son's  severer 
taste  ruled,  D'Ewes  enters  in  his  journal :  *  Whilst 
'  they  were  at  an  idle  play  that  gave  much  offence  to 

*  most  of  the  hearers,   I  went  into  Trin.   Coll.   library 
'  and  there  viewed  divers  ancient  MS.  which  afforded  me 
1  as  much  content  as  the  sight  of  the  extreme  vanity  of 
4  the  Court  did  sorrow.'     Evidently  there  was  a  touch 
of  Jack  Horner  about  this  youthful  Puritan — he  liked 
to  sit  in  a  corner  and  cry  '  What  a  good  boy  am  I ! ' 

Although  a  wild,  idle  lad  might  find  plenty  of  incite- 
ment to  waste  of  time  or  worse,  there  were  not  wanting 
helps  for  those  who  were  otherwise  minded.  Many  of 
the  tutors  took  a  deep  interest  in  training  the  minds 
of  their  pupils  in  serious  thought,  and  indeed  seem  to 
have  exercised  a  much  closer  supervision  over  them 
than  was  customary  in  public  schools,  if  we  may  judge 
by  a  letter  from  a  father  to  his  son's  tutor  : — 

' 1  expect  no  impossibilities,  though  perhaps  some- 

*  what    more    than    ordinary,    as   I   confess   (on   your 
'  encouragement)  I  do  from   you.  .  .  .  Above  all  my 
'  desire  is  that  Sundays,  fast  days  and  the  like,  may 

*  have  their   particular  employment  in  divine  studies, 

*  besides    his  constant    reading    the    Scriptures    each 


96      HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

1  morning  and  evening,  which  how  he  follows  and 
4  understands,  if  you  please  some  time  to  question  him, 
'  will  soon  be  discerned/ 

There  seems  indeed  to  have  been  a  strong  religious 
influence  in  the  place,  chiefly  in  the  direction  of 
Puritanism,  though  Thompson  of  Clare  and  Chappell 
of  Christ's  were  accused  of  '  arminianising '  their  pupils. 
Nicholas  Ferrar  was  at  Clare,  and  he  always  attributed 
the  religious  practices  of  his  later  life  to  his  studies  of 
the  Lives  of  the  Saints,  which  he  read  under  the  advice 
of  his  tutor.  Philosophy  was  more  in  favour  at  Cam- 
bridge in  those  days  than  mathematics,  and  the  middle 
of  the  century  saw  the  rise  of  the  Cambridge  Platonists, 
who  exercised  for  a  time  so  deep,  if  narrow,  an  influence 
on  religious  thought.  Henry  More,  who  was  one  of 
those  half  Puritan,  half  Platonic  mystics,  *  would 
'  deliver  excellent  lectures  of  piety  and  instruction  from 

<  the  chapter  that  was  read  on  nights  in  his  chamber.' 
Plato    was    much    studied,    and    Whichcote   used    to 
recommend  a  course  of  Plato,  Lully,  and  Plotin  to  raise 
men's  thoughts.     On  the  whole  the  influences  at  Cam- 
bridge, though  not  unmixed,  tended  to  deepen  character 
and  produce  a  race  of  men  who  took  life  seriously. 

It  seems  singular  that  the  college  days  of  one  who  was 
afterwards  so  closely  connected  with  the  intellectual  life  of 
Oxford  as  Lucius  Cary,  Lord  Falkland,  should  not  have 
been  spent  there  ;  but  when  he  was  young  his  father 
was  Lord-deputy  of  Ireland,  and  sent  him  to  Trinity 
College,  Dublin,  where,  if  we  are  to  believe  Aubrey,  he 
was  rather  wild.  '  My  Lord  in  his  youth,'  says  he,  '  was 

<  very  wild  and  also  mischievous,  as  being  apt  to  stab 
1  and    doe   bloudy  mischiefes.'     If  this  was  true,   his 
wild  oats  were  soon  exchanged  for  a  richer  harvest,  for 
another  writes  of  him  :    '  He  that  hath  a  spirit  to  be 
4  unruly  before  the  use  of    reason    hath  mettle  to  be 

<  active  afterwards.     Quicksilver  if  fixed  is  uncompar- 
4  able ;     besides    that    the    adventures,     contrivances, 


THE  UNIVERSITY  97 

'  secrets,  confidences,    trusts,   compliance  with   oppor- 

*  tunity,  and  the  other  sallies  of  young  gallants  prepare 
1  them  for  more  serious  undertakings  as  they  did  this 

*  noble  lord/ 

Truly,  if  Lucius  Gary  was  a  fair  specimen,  Trinity 
College,  Dublin,  had  reason  to  be  proud  of  her  sons. 


CHAPTER  VII 

GIRLHOOD 

MEANWHILE  the  girls  at  home  were  not  neglected. 
It  is  a  popular  delusion  that  giving  women  a  sound 
classical  education  is  an  invention  of  our  own  day, — it  is 
rather  a  reversion  to  an  older  custom  after  a  period  of 
neglect  during  which  a  strange  temporary  fashion  of 
helplessness  and  ignorance  for  women  had  come  in. 
Amongst  the  Puritans,  it  is  true,  an  idea  that  learning 
was  a  waste  of  time  for  a  woman  was  just  beginning  to 
suggest  itself.  Ralph  Verney  strongly  deprecated  too 
learned  an  education  for  his  god-daughter,  Dr.  Denton's 
little  Nancy.  He  writes  to  his  uncle :  '  Let  not  your 

*  girl  learn  Latin,  nor  Short-hand  :  the  difficulty  of  the 
'  first  may  keep  her  from   that  vice,  for  soe   I  must 
'  esteem  it  in  a  woeman  ;  but  the  easinesse  of  the  other 
c  may  be  a  prejudice  to  her  ;   for  the  pride  of  taking 
'  sermon  noates  hath  made  multitudes  of  woemen  most 

*  unfortunate.'1     Miss  Nancy  herself,  however,  answer- 
ing her  god-father  in  a  large  text-hand,  protests  that 
she  means  to  outreach  him  in  'ebri,  grek  and  laten.' 
Evidently,  however,  her  education  had  not  yet  begun. 
It  must  be  owned  that  the  women  of  his  own  family  did 
not  disgrace  themselves  in  his  eyes  by  scholarship  ;  his 
wife  wrote  well  and  spelt  very  fairly,  though  she  con- 
fessed it  was  a  labour  to  her ;  but  she  seems  to  have 
cared  nothing  for  books.     As  to  his  sisters,  their  letters 
would  have  shamed  a  housemaid,  and  were  very  inferior 

1   Verney  Memoirs. 


98 


GIRLHOOD  99 

to  those  of  Luce  Shepherd,  the  nurse  or  attendant  of 
the  Verney  children  and  their  little  cousins,  Mary  and 
Margaret  Eure,  in  which  she  reported  the  health  and 
progress  of  the  two  latter,  while  at  Blois,  to  their 
mother. 

This  view  of  the  education  of  girls  was  by  no  means 
universal  amongst  the  Puritans.  The  daughters  of 
Cromwell  seem  to  have  been  clever  and  well  educated 
young  women,  and  Milton's  were  decidedly  learned 
even  for  that  day.  Not  only  had  their  father  a  high 
idea  of  the  importance  of  a  classical  education,  but  he 
had  need  of  their  services.  His  nephew  and  biographer, 
Edward  Phillips,  has  left  an  account  of  their  education 
which  shows  that,  learned  though  they  were,  some- 
thing had  been  sadly  lacking.  In  a  spirit  of  'dumb 
rebellion '  they  read  aloud  to  their  blind  father  in 
Hebrew,  Syriac,  Greek,  Latin,  Italian,  Spanish,  and 
French  ;  wrote  at  his  dictation,  and  looked  out  for  him 
the  references  he  needed  ;  and  instead  of  being  proud 
of  the  privilege,  'combined  with  his  maid-servant  to 
1  cheat  him  in  her  marketings,  made  away  with  some 
<  of  his  books,  and  would  have  sold  the  rest  to  the 
4  dunghill-women/  Truly  he  had  cast  pearls  before 
swine,  but  probably  the  harshness  and  sourness  he 
had  showed  to  their  young  mother,  and  to  them  in 
early  girlhood,  must  have  borne  this  fruit.  But  the 
childhood  of  the  young  Miltons  overpasses  our  half- 
century. 

As  a  rule  girls  were  grounded  in  the  same  way 
as  boys,  frequently  sharing  the  instructions  of  their 
brothers'  tutor  when  there  was  one  in  the  house.  Girls' 
schools  were  not  much  patronised  except  by  Recusants. 
When  they  could  smuggle  their  children  out  of  England, 
they  usually  sent  them  to  some  French  or  Spanish  con- 
vent. There  was  a  ladies'  school  at  Putney,  kept  by  a 
certain  Mrs.  Bathsua  Makyns  who  had  been  governess 
in  the  royal  family.  Her  little  pupil,  the  Princess 


ioo     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

Elizabeth,  did  credit  to  her  training,  for  she  was  a  very 
seriously  inclined  and  studious  child.  We  also  hear  of 
Mrs.  Salmon's  school  at  Hackney,1  at  which  Katharine 
Phillips,  'the  matchless  Orinda,'  was  educated,  and  at 
this  verse-making  seems  to  have  been  taught  as  in 
boys'  schools,  for  she  wrote  verses  while  at  school,  as 
well  as  studied  French  and  Italian  ;  book-keeping  also, 
it  appears,  for  she  turned  out  an  excellent  woman  of 
business  as  well  as  a  poetess.  How  much  we  should  like 
to  learn  more  of  school-girl  life,  either  at  these  establish- 
ments or  at  that  nameless  school  where  obstreperous 
Betty  Verney  was  so  successfully  broken  in  ;  but  either 
the  girls  did  not  indulge  much  in  letters  home,  or  such 
childish  epistles  were  not  thought  worth  preserving. 
What  did  they  play  at?  Battledore  and  shuttlecock 
I  think  we  may  take  for  granted — it  is  so  often  men- 
tioned by  Dorothy  Osborne  and  others  ;  skipping-rope 
too,  and  possibly  rounders.  They  certainly  danced, 
for  dancing-lessons  are  always  spoken  of  as  a  matter 
of  importance.  Dancing  then  was  a  very  different 
matter  from  the  waltzing  of  the  present  day  :  the  girls 
of  that  period  had  to  be  taught  to  hold  themselves 
stately  and  erect,  to  curtsy  low,  and  to  bear  themselves 
with  dignity  and  grace  through  the  courtly  measure  of 
minuet,  pavane,  or  coranto. 

Education  was  more  commonly  carried  on  at  home 
under  the  mother's  eye,  with  the  aid  of  masters.  Mrs. 
Lucy  Apsley,  who  afterwards  became  the  wife  of 
Colonel  Hutchinson,  Governor  of  Nottingham  for  the 
Parliament,  has  given  a  very  interesting  account  of 
hers  which  is  worth  quoting  in  full. 

<  As  soon  as  I  was  weaned  a  Frenchwoman  was  taken 
'  to  be  my  dry-nurse,  and  I  was  taught  to  speak  French 
<  and  English  together.'  Mention  has  already  been 
made  of  her  extraordinary  memory  and  proficiency  in 
repeating  sermons  when  she  was  but  four  years  old. 

1  Ballatd's  Learned  Ladies. 


GIRLHOOD  101 

She  goes  on  :  '  When  I  was  about  seven  years  of  age, 

<  I  remember  I  had  at  one  time  eight  tutors  in  several 
'  qualities,    languages,    music,    dancing,    writing,    and 

*  needlework ;   but  my  genius  was  quite  averse  to  all 
'  but  my  book,   and  that  I  was  so  eager  of,  that  my 
(  mother  thinking  it  prejudiced  my  health,  would  moder- 
1  ate  me  in  it ;  yet  this  rather  animated  me  than  kept 
'  me  back,  and  every  moment  I   could  steal  from  my 
1  play  I  would  employ  in  any  book  I  could  find,  when 
1  my  own  were  locked  up  from  me.     After  dinner  or 
'  supper  I  still  had  an  hour  allowed  me  to  play,  and 
1  then  I  would  steal  into  some  corner  to  read.      My 
'  father  would  have  me  learn  Latin,  and  I  was  so  apt 
1  that  I  outstripped  my  brothers  that  were  at  school, 
1  although  my  father's  chaplain,  that  was  my  tutor,  was 
1  a  pitiful  dull  fellow.    My  brothers,  who  had  a  great  deal 

<  of  wit,  had  some  emulation  of  the  progress  I  made 
'  in  my  learning  which  very  well  pleased  my  father  ; 
'  though  my  mother  would  have  been  contented  if  I 
1  had  not  so  wholly  addicted  myself  to  that  as  to  neglect 
'  my  other  qualities.     As  for  music  and  dancing,  I  pro- 
'  fited  very  little  in  them,  and  would  never  practise  my 

*  lute  or  harpsichords  but  when  my  masters  were  with 
'  me  ;  and  for  my  needle  I  absolutely  hated  it.' 

Her  husband  was  very  fond  of  music  and  an  excellent 
musician,  and  when  living  in  retirement  after  the  breach 
with  Cromwell,  <  pleased  himself  with  music,  and  again 
'  fell  to  the  practice  of  his  viol,  on  which  he  played 
'  excellently  well,  and  entertaining  tutors  for  the  diver- 
'  sion  and  education  of  his  children  in  all  sorts  of  music, 

*  he  pleased   himself  with   these   innocent   recreations 

<  during   Oliver's   mutable   reign.      As    he   had   great 
'  delight,    so   he    had  great  judgment   in   music,   and 
1  advanced    his    children's    practice    more    than    their 
4  tutors :  he  also  was  a  great  supervisor  of  their  learn- 
(  ing,  and   indeed  was  himself  a  tutor  to  them   all ; 
'  besides  all  those  tutors  whom  he  liberally  entertained 


102     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

4  in  his  house  for  them.     He  spared  not  any  cost  for  the 
'  education  of  both  his  sons  and  daughters  in  languages, 

*  sciences,  music,  and  dancing,  and  all  other  qualities 

*  befitting  their  father's  house/    This  shows  what  diver- 
sity of  practice  and   opinion   there  was  amongst  the 
Puritans    in    such    matters.       Politically   speaking,    it 
would  be  hard  to  find  a  bitterer  Puritan  than  Colonel 
Hutchinson,  nor  in  personal  character  and  questions  of 
cultivation  one  larger  minded. 

Another  youthful  bookworm  whose  mother  looked 
somewhat  askance  on  her  pursuits  was  Elizabeth 
Tanfield,  daughter  of  Sir  Lawrence  Tanfield,  Lord 
Chief  Baron.1  Only  child  and  heiress  though  she 
was,  she  seems  to  have  had  an  unhappy  childhood. 
Lady  Tanfield  was  a  severe  disciplinarian,  and  being 
herself  an  ignorant  woman  who  could  scarcely  indite 
a  decent  letter,  resented  the  scholarly  tastes  of  her  little 
daughter,  and  endeavoured  to  whip  them  out  of  her. 
She  was,  however,  taught  to  read  very  early,  and  at 
four  years  old  'put  to  learn  French,  but  after  five 

*  weeks,    not   profiting   at   all,    gave    over.      After   of 
'  herself,  without  a  teacher,   whilst  she  was  a  child, 

*  learned  French,  Spanish,  and  Italian,  also  Latin  and 
'  understood   it   perfectly  while   she   was   young,   and 
'  translated  Epistles  of  Seneca ;  after  having  long  dis- 
'  continued,  she  was  much  more  imperfect  in  it,  so  as 
'  a  little  before  her  death,  translating  some  Blosius  out 

*  of  Latin,  she  was  fain  to  help  herself  somewhat  with 
'  the  Spanish  translation.     Hebrew  she  likewise  at  the 
'  same  time  learned  with  very  little  teaching ;  but  for 
'  many  years  neglecting  it,  she  lost  it  much,  yet  not 
'  long  before  her  death,  she  againe  beginning  to  use 
'  it  could  in  the  Bible  understand  it  well,  in  which  she 
6  was  most  perfectly  well  read.     She  then  learned  also 
'  of  a  Transylvanian  his  language,  but  never  finding 

*  any  use  of  it,  forgot  it  entirely.     She  was  skilful  and 

1  The  Lady  Falkland,  her  Life. 


GIRLHOOD  103 

'  curious  in  working,  never  having  been  helped  by 
1  anybody :  those  that  knew  her  would  never  have 
*  believed  she  knew  how  to  hold  a  needle  unless  they 
<  had  seen  it.' 

Unlike  Lucy  Apsley,  who  was  considered  a  beautiful 
child,  poor  Elizabeth  was  *  nothing  handsome,'  short, 
rather  thick-set,  with  little  but  intelligent  eyes  and  a 
fresh  colour  to  recommend  her.  Perhaps  a  sense  of 
being  unnoticed  or  disapproved  threw  her  more  upon 
her  books.  She  became  passionately  fond  of  reading, 
and  being  forbidden  candles  in  her  room  by  her  mother, 
she  bribed  the  servants  to  supply  her  with  some,  which 
they  did  at  so  high  a  rate  that  by  the  time  she  was 
married,  which  was  when  she  was  fifteen,  they  had  run 
her  into  debt  to  the  extent  of  a  hundred  pounds.  Her 
father  seems  to  have  taken  a  good  deal  more  notice  of 
her  than  her  mother  did,  and  to  have  been  pleased  with 
her  shrewdness.  She  used  to  go  into  court  with  him 
sometimes  when  he  was  trying  cases,  and  on  one  occa- 
sion gave  a  signal  proof  of  clear-headedness.  A  poor 
woman  had  been  brought  before  him,  charged  with 
being  a  witch,  and  in  sheer  terror  was  owning  to 
nefarious  practices.  <Ask  her,'  whispered  the  little 
girl  in  her  father's  ear,  '  whether  she  ill-wished  John 
Symonds  and  caused  his  death  ? '  The  question  having 
been  put,  and  answered  tremblingly  in  the  affirmative, 
there  was  a  roar  of  laughter,  as  the  gentleman  in 
question,  the  judge's  brother-in-law,  was  at  that 
moment  in  court,  hale  and  hearty.  Sir  Lawrence 
having  asked  her  why  she  accused  herself  of  things 
of  which  she  was  manifestly  innocent,  and  under- 
standing that  she  thought  she  might  be  less  severely 
dealt  with  if  she  confessed,  cleared  and  discharged 
her. 

Of  Elizabeth's  reading  in  later  life  her  daughter  says  : 
'  She  had  read  very  exceedingly  much ;  poetry  of  all  kinds 
*  ancient  and  modern  in  several  languages,  all  that  ever 


104     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

1  she  could  meet ;  history  very  universally,  especially 
'  all  ancient  Greek  and  Roman  histories  ;  all  chronicles 
'  whatsoever  of  her  own  country,  and  the  French 
'  histories  very  thoroughly  ;  of  most  other  countries 
(  something,  though  not  so  universally,  of  the  eccles- 

*  iastical    very   much,    most   especially   concerning    its 
'  chief  pastors.     Of  books  treating  of  moral  virtue  or 
'  wisdom    (such    as    Seneca,    Plutarch's    Morals,    and 
6  natural  knowledge,  as  Pliny,  and  of  late  ones,  such 
'  as  French,  Mountaine,  and  English,  Bacon),  she  had 
'  read  very  many  when  she  was  young.     Of  the  fathers 
4  and  controversial  writers  on  both  sides  a  great  deal 
'  even  of  Luther  and  Calvin.' 

A  knowledge  of  Hebrew  seems  to  have  been  by  no 
means  uncommon.  Lady  Pakington,  who  was  reputed 
the  author  of  The  Whole  Duty  of  'Man ,  was  an  excellent 
Hebrew  scholar. 

Another  Lady  Falkland,  Lettice  Morrison,  daughter- 
in-law  of  the  preceding,  was  also  a  little  girl  who  loved 
her  books,  more  especially  religious  reading,  according 
to  the  testimony  of  her  chaplain  in  his  brief  biographical 
notice  of  her.1  This  is  his  account  of  her  education  : 
'  That  her  time  might  not  be  mis-spent  nor  her  employ- 
'  ment  tedious  to  her,  the  several  hours  of  the  day 
'  had  a  variety  of  employments  assigned  to  them  ; 
'  and  the  intermixture  of  praier,  reading,  writing, 
'  working  and  walking,  brought  a  pleasure  to  each 

*  of  them  in  their  courses  ;  so  that  the  day  was  carried 
'  about  faster  than  she  would,  and  she  begins  in  this 
'  her  youth  to  abridg  herself  of  her  sleep,  and  was  oft- 

*  times  at  a  book  in  her  closet,  when  she  was  thought 
'  to  be  in  bed.' 

In  contrast  to  these  serious  young  bookworms  comes 
the  account  of  the  education  of  a  very  charming  girl, 
Anne  Harrison,  whom  we  shall  meet  with  later  on  as 

1  The  Holy  Life  and  Death  of  Letice,  Vi-Countess  Falkland,  prefixed  to 
the  Returns  of  Spiritual  Comfort  to  a  Devout  Soul,  by  T.  Duncan. 


GIRLHOOD  105 

Lady  Fanshawe.     It  is  best  given  in  her  own  graphic 
words  : — 

'  Now  it  is  necessary  to  say  something  of  my  mother's 
'  education  of  me,  which  was  with  all  the  advantage 

<  which  the  time  afforded,  both  for  working  all  sorts  of 

<  fine   work  with    my   needle,    and    learning    French, 

*  singing,  lute,  the  virginalls,  and   dancing,  and   not- 
'  withstanding  I  learned  as  well  as  most  did,  yet  was  I 
'  wild  to  that  degree,  that  the  hours  of  my  beloved 

*  recreation  took  up  too  much  of  my  time,  for  I  loved 
1  riding    in   the    first    place,    running,    and  all   active 

<  pastimes  ;   in  short  I  was  what  graver  people  call  a 

*  hoy  ting   girl  ;   but  to  be  just  to  myself,   I  never  did 
'  mischief  to  myself  or  people,  nor  one  immodest  word 
'  or  action  in  my  life,  though  skipping  and  activity  was 
1  my   delight ;   but   upon    my   mother's   death,   I   then 
'  began  to  reflect,  and,  as  an  offering  to  her  memory,  I 
'  flung  away  those   little  childishnesses  that  formerly 

*  possessed   me,  and,  by   my  father's  command,  took 

*  upon  me  charge  of  his  house  and  family,  which  I  so 
1  ordered  by  my  excellent  mother's  example  as  found 

*  acceptance  in  his  sight.'1     Her  high  spirit  stood  her 
in  good  stead  in  the  adventurous  life  she  was  afterwards 
to  lead. 

Anne  Murray,  in  her  delightful  memoirs,  tells  very 
shortly  how  she  was  brought  up.  Her  father,  Thomas 
Murray,  had  been  tutor  to  the  two  princes  Henry  and 
Charles,  and  afterwards  for  a  very  short  time  Provost  of 
Eton.  He  died  when  his  youngest  girl,  Anne,  was  a 
baby.  The  high  opinion  King  Charles  had  of  his  old 
tutor  was  testified  by  his  appointing  the  widow  twice 
governess  to  Princess  Elizabeth  and  the  Duke  of 
Gloucester.  She  was  most  careful  and  strict  with  her 
own  little  girls.2  '  She  spared  no  expence,'  says  her 
daughter,  <  in  educating  all  her  children  in  the  most 

1  Memoirs,  Lady  Fanshawe. 

2  Autobiography  of  Anne,  Lady  Halkett. 


io6    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

*  suitable  way  to  improve  them,  and  if  I  made  not  the 

*  advantage  I  might  have  done  it  was  my  own   fault 
'  and  not  my  mother's,  who  paid  masters  for  teaching 
'  my  sister  and  mee  to  write,  speake  French,  play  on 
'  the  lute  and  virginalls,  and  dance,  and  kept  a  gentle- 
1  woman  to  teach   us  all  kinds  of  needleworke,  which 
i  shews  I  was  not  brought  up  in  an  idle  life.     But  my 
'  mother's   greatest   care,  and   for  which    I   shall   ever 
i  owne  to  her  memory  the  highest  gratitude,  was  the 
'  great  care  she  tooke  that,  even  from  our  infancy,  wee 
'  were  instructed  never  to  neglect  to  begin  and  end  the 
1  day  with  prayer,  and  orderly  every  morning  to  read 
'  the  Bible,  and  ever  to  keepe  the  church  as  offten  as 

*  there  was  occation  to  meet  there  either  for  prayers  or 
1  preaching.     So  that  for  many  yeares  together  I  was 
'  seldome  or  never   absent   from   divine  service,   at   5 

<  a'clocke  in  the  morning  in  the  summer  and  6  a'clocke 

*  in  the  winter,  till  the  usurped  power  putt  a  restraint  to 

*  that  publick  worship  so  long  owned  and  continued  in 

<  the  Church  of  England  ;  where,  I  blese  God,  I  had  my 
'  education,  and  the  example  of  a  good  Mother,  who 
'  kept  constantt  to   her  owne   parish   church,  and  had 

*  allways  a  great  respect  for  the  ministers  under  whose 

*  charge  shee  was.' 

It  is  worth  observing,  since  there  is  so  general  an  idea 
that  the  Puritans  had  a  monopoly  of  religion  and 
seriousness  of  mind,  that  this  was  an  exceptionally 
royalist  family,  carrying  out  the  customs  habitual  at  the 
Court,  and  belonged  distinctly  to  the  party  whom  their 
opponents  described  as  the  *  wicked,'  the  'malignants,' 
or  '  ungodly  cavaliers.' 

Large  families  seem  to  have  been  the  rule  in  those 
days,  and  the  mother's  place  was  usually  at  home 
superintending  the  education  of  her  daughters.  Even 
women  of  such  high  position  as  Lady  Leicester  or  Lady 
Verney,  if  they  had  many  children,  rarely  went  to 
London  or  attended  the  Court.  Possibly  these  Pro- 


GIRLHOOD  107 

testant  ladies  may  have  held  a   little  aloof  from  the 
Court  of  the  Catholic  Queen  who,  excellent  wife  and 
mother  though  she  was,  was  very  unpopular  with  them  ; 
but  it  seems  to    have  excited   no   remark   and    been 
considered    quite   natural    that,    while  their  husbands 
went  to  Court,  they  should  remain  in  the  country  and 
devote  themselves  to  their  children.      Very   little    is 
recorded  of  the  education   of  the  Earl   of  Leicester's 
beautiful  daughter  Dorothy,  known  as  the  l  Sacharissa ' 
of  Edmund  Waller's  amorous  verse,  but  it  was  under  the 
eye  of  her  father  and  mother  in  the  country  at  Penshurst.1 
They  were  very  cultivated   people,   as   beseemed  the 
family  of  that  paragon  of  his  age,  Sir  Philip  Sidney. 
Lord  Leicester  was  well  read  in  the  classics,  and  spoke 
elegant  Latin,  French,  Italian,  and  Spanish.     He  was  a 
man  of  studious  tastes,  and  while  in  Paris  spent  his 
leisure  in  collecting   rare  and  curious   books  in  many 
languages.     His  wife  was  a  clever,  capable  woman,  an 
excellent    letter-writer,   and  well    fitted  to    direct    the 
education  of  her  numerous  children.       In  that  refined 
atmosphere  Dorothy  grew  up  graceful  and  lovely,  with 
serious  tastes  and  retiring  manners,  a  worthy  representa- 
tive of  the  renowned  brother  and  sister  who  had  adorned 
that  fair  home  a  generation  before  her.    There  was  about 
her,  as  Fulke  Greville  had  said  of  Philip,  <  such  lovely 
1  and  familiar   gravity  as  carried  grace  and  reverence 
'  above  greater  years.'     Reserved  and  shy,  she  shrank 
from   gay  society,  and   preferred  the  company  of  her 
girl  friends  to  that  of  the  young  gallants  who  would 
have  been  eager  to  pay  their  court  to  her.     Edmund 
Waller,  who  might  have  been  considered  by  many  girls 
interesting  both   as  a  poet  and  as  a  young  widower, 
was  staying  some  time  at  Groombridge,  not  far  from 
Penshurst,   with   his   cousins,    old   neighbours   of  the 
Sidneys,  and  the  dainty  lyrics  in  which  he  celebrated 
her  charms  might  have  turned  a  maturer  head.     But 

1  Sacharissa^  Mrs.  Henry  Ady. 


io8    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

Lady  Doll  would  have  none  of  him.  In  one  of  his 
addresses  to  her  he  reproaches  her  with  always  sur- 
rounding herself  with  her  girl  companions,  keeping 
those  who  sighed  for  her  favour  at  a  distance.  Beyond 
sonnets  and  sighs  he  never  got. 

Gleanings  from  the  Earl  of  Cork's  diaries  at  Lismore1 
show  the  great  earl  trying  to  be  father  and  mother  both 
to  his  motherless  daughters.  The  two  little  ones,  Mary 
and  Peggy,  had  been  sent  at  their  mother's  death  to 
the  charge  of  Lady  Clayton,  but  their  father  continued 
to  interest  himself  in  their  clothes  and  their  health,  and 
records  the  piece  of  white  dimity  he  sent  for  summer 
frocks  for  them,  or  the  'xxijs  to  buy  ffethers  for  my 
daughters/  in  the  midst  of  serious  entries  about  the 
affairs  of  Ireland  or  the  expenses  of  his  great  estate, 
and  many  philanthropic  enterprises.  There  is  a  de- 
lightful picture  of  a  family  reunion  at  Stalbridge,  his 
Dorsetshire  estate,  at  Christmas  1635.  There  were  the 
elder  daughters  and  their  young  husbands,  all  children 
together,  the  eldest  son  and  his  wife,  the  four  boys  all 
at  home,  two  just  going  abroad  with  their  tutor,  and 
two  to  Eton.  Little  Mary  and  Peggy,  now  nine  and 
five  years  old,  were  brought  by  Sir  Randal  and  Lady 
Clayton  to  complete  the  family  party.  Christmas 
presents  were  quite  the  order  of  the  day :  Lord  Cork 
presented  Lady  Clayton  with  a  silver  sugar-basin  of  a 
scallop  pattern,  and  to  his  daughter  Alice,  i  a  faire 
standing  gilt  cup  with  a  cover/  We  do  not  read  of 
the  old-fashioned  Christmas  games,  the  mummers  and 
ceremonies  of  the  Yule  log,  but  cards  seem  to  be  the 
prevailing  mode,  as  the  diary  repeatedly  mentions  sums 
given  to  his  daughter-in-law  to  make  good  her  losses 
at  tables.  It  may  be  remembered  that  amongst  the 
regulations  in  force  at  Cambridge  there  was  a  rule 
forbidding  cards  except  for  twelve  days  at  Christmas.2 

1  Lismore  Papers.     Camden  Society. 

2  Cambridge  in  the  Seventeenth  Century.     J.  Bass  Mullinger. 


GIRLHOOD  109 

After  reading  of  Claydon  in  the  days  of  the  war  when, 
their  mother  dead,  their  father  fallen  on  the  battlefield, 
their  elder  brother  in  exile,  the  five  remaining  girls 
moped  and  quarrelled  under  no  better  discipline  than 
that  of  their  indulgent  old  nurse,  it  is  pleasant  to  turn 
back  to  the  happy  days  when  Dame  Margaret  presided 
over  her  large  household  of  sons  and  daughters — her 
own  six  girls,  her  young  daughter-in-law,  and  her 
charming  Irish  niece  Doll  Leake,  the  party  often 
reinforced  by  a  visitor,  Anne  Lee,  the  daughter  of 
Lady  Sussex  by  her  first  husband,  Ralph's  Oxford 
friend,  James  Dillon,  or  Sir  Nathaniel  and  Lady 
Hobart,  Doll's  sister  and  her  husband.1  We  do  not 
hear  of  much  book-learning,  nor  of  music,  except  an 
occasional  mention  of  Mary's  'getar,'  or  of  Anne  Lee 
exercising  her  fingers  on  the  same  instrument,  but  they 
were  all  well  trained  in  domestic  arts,  as  we  learn  from 
Mary's  letters  from  Blois,  in  which  she  often  rejoices 
in  the  skill  in  bread-making  and  such  things  learned  at 
Claydon. 

They  must  have  been  a  merry  party  in  those  halcyon 
years  before  the  war,  when  the  two  elder  brothers  were 
at  Oxford  and  Winchester,  coming  home  for  the  long 
vacation,  and  bringing  college  friends  with  them. 
James  Dillon  was  constantly  there,  and  carrying  on  a 
playful  flirtation  with  Doll  Leake,  whom  he  calls 
'  Brother  Doll,'  and  to  whom  he  sends  trifling  presents 
such  as  a  thimble  or  a  comb.  He  was  devoted  to 
Ralph  and  Mary,  and  corresponded  affectionately  with 
them.  Mary,  wife  and  mother  though  she  was,  was 
as  much  a  child  as  any  of  them,  and  she  and  Doll  were 
great  at  practical  jokes.  On  one  occasion  they  hoaxed 
James  Dillon  by  sending  him  a  blank  sheet  of  paper 
carefully  folded  and  sealed  in  the  form  of  a  letter, 
addressed  in  Mary's  hand  and  endorsed :  '  Open  not 
*  this  letter  till  you  all  meet,  and  doe  us  the  favour  not 

1    Verney  Memoirs. 


no    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

1  to  censur  our  lines/  To  this  he  retorted  by  a  message  : 
'  Tell  the  tow  faire  ones  from  mee  that  I  am  ashamed  to 
*  see  a  letter  from  them  in  which  there  is  not  one  modest 
'  word.' 

Nan  Lee,  too,  was  much  given  to  quizzing  the  young 
gentlemen  she  met  at  Clay  don,  and  in  her  letters  after 
a  visit  gives  them  all  nick-names.  One  would  like  to 
know  who  was  called  *  boutared  eggs, '  and  to  what 
unfortunate  peculiarity  he  owed  the  name.  Perhaps  he 
had  suffered  from  the  smallpox — no  uncommon  afflic- 
tion— and  his  pitted  face  recalled  the  uneven  surface  of 
that  delicacy.  Pet-names,  too,  were  greatly  in  favour. 
Mary  Verney  was  always  '  Mischiefe,'  as  suited  the 
writer  of  the  blank  letter  ;  Sir  Edmund  calls  his  wife 
<  good  Pusse,'  and  even  the  sober  Ralph  is  '  deare  roge.' 
Doll's  sister  Anne  and  her  husband  were  always  known 
in  the  family  as  *  Nattycock  and  Nannycock.'  Anne 
Lee  was,  however,  a  little  bit  of  a  fine  lady.  She  writes 
on  very  fine  paper,  tied  up  with  blue  floss  silk  ;  and 
on  one  occasion  she  sends  a  recipe  for  '  paste  for 
making  white  the  hands,'  which  treasure  was  to  be 
kept  a  profound  secret. 

All  this  chaffing  and  mirth  would  seem  to  have  ended 
for  poor  Doll  somewhat  sadly :  it  is  not  improbable 
that  she  lost  her  heart  to  the  fascinating  young 
Irishman,  for  she  never  married — in  those  days  very 
unusual — and  on  his  making  an  apparently  ambitious 
and  mercenary  marriage  with  the  sister  of  the  Lord- 
Deputy  Strafford,  a  slight  coolness  arose  between  him 
and  Ralph,  who  may  have  felt  that  his  kinswoman 
was  unbecomingly  used,  though  there  does  not  seem 
to  have  been  any  definite  proposal.  Later  Doll  became 
companion  or  waiting  gentlewoman  to  Lady  Vere 
Gawdy,  an  old  friend  of  the  family. 

Of  the  four  brothers  Edmund  seems  to  have  been  the 
dearest  to  his  sisters.  Ralph,  exemplary  and  con- 
scientious as  he  was,  may  have  been  a  little  worrying 


GIRLHOOD  in 

at  home  with  his  strict  Puritan  notions,  though  they 

were  one  and  all  devoted  to  his  wife.     Tom  and  Henry 

were  both  unsatisfactory,  selfish  and  extravagant,  and 

when   they   were   at    home   did   not   make   themselves 

pleasant.     Tom,  when  sent  down  to  Claydon  to  be  out 

of  mischief,  writes  discontentedly  :  '  There  is  no  one  at 

4  home  but  children.     Rather  than  lead  this  hellish  life 

4  I  will  take  a  rope  and  make  an  end  of  myself,  and  then 

4  neither  father,  mother,  brother,   nor  sister,  nor  any 

'  friends  els  shall  take  any  more  care  of  me.     Idlenesse 

*  puts    many   wicked    thoughts    in    one's    head.      But 

<  perhaps  you  may  object  that  I  may  read,  or  walk  up  to 

'  Mr.   Aris  (the  rector)  and  conferre  with   him,  or  to 

'  walk  in  att  one  doore  and  out  att  the  other/     This 

young    hopeful,    who    tried    to    make    an    impossible 

marriage   at   nineteen   without  the   knowledge   of   his 

parents,    was    shipped    off   to    the    colonies,    but  was 

always   reappearing   like   the    proverbial    bad    penny, 

or  writing    begging-letters    to    his    father  or   Ralph, 

entreating  to   be  set  going  again.       'Barbathos'  was 

the   colony   selected   for   him,    and   his    letters  thence 

are   not  without   interest,   showing  what  colonial   life 

in  those  days  was   like,    but  would   lead   us  too  far 

afield. 

Henry,  whose  chief  interest  and  occupation  was  racing, 
cared  little  more  for  his  sisters  than  Tom  did  ;  but 
Edmund's  visits  during  the  war  were  the  greatest 
comfort  the  poor  girls  had.  The  eldest,  Pen,  writes  of 
him  as  her  <  dearest  combeannion.' 

It  is  rather  tantalising  that  none  of  the  correspondence 
between  Lady  Brilliana  Harley  and  her  little  daughter 
Brill  should  have  been  preserved.  The  mother,  having 
very  bad  health,  entrusted  her  eldest  daughter  to  her 
aunt,  Lady  Vere,  to  see  something  of  the  world,  and  in 
the  letters  to  her  son  there  are  occasional  brief  references 
such  as  the  following  :  '  Your  sister,  I  hope,  met  you  at 
*  Wickcam  on  wensday  last.  Deare  Ned,  send  me 


ii2     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

*  word  how  my  ladey  Veere  vsess  her,  and  how  shee 
'  carries  herself/  Brill's  own  first  impressions,  and  her 
mother's  advice  to  her,  would  have  been  priceless. 
Rich  as  the  records  are  in  many  respects,  here  and  there 
they  fail  us.  Letters  between  mothers  and  daughters 
are  extraordinarily  rare. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

GIVING  IN  MARRIAGE 

THE  girls  of  the  seventeenth  century  enjoyed  but  a 
brief  spring-time.  With  dawning  womanhood,  while 
they  were  yet  in  the  school-room,  in  some  cases  even  in 
the  nursery,  careful  parents  were  already  considering 
the  choice  of  a  husband.  To  our  modern  English 
notions  of  absolute  freedom  of  choice  and  the  para- 
mount claims  of  falling  in  love  which  the  modern 
novel  has  erected  into  a  new  gospel,  such  a  course 
seems  almost  shocking  ;  yet  unquestionably  the  custom 
had  its  advantages.  Amongst  our  neighbours  across 
the  Channel  it  still  obtains  :  even  the  Revolution  itself 
has  not  been  able  to  overthrow  parental  rights  in  this 
matter,  and  it  may  be  doubted  whether  the  proportion 
of  happy  marriages  is  not  quite  as  great  where  parents 
of  discretion  have  weighed  questions,  not  of  fortune 
only,  but  of  position,  family  connections,  health  and 
temperament,  as  they  are  where  young  people  have 
followed  unbiassed  the  promptings  of  their  own  fancy. 
For  fancy  so  often  masquerades  as  love,  and  love  rooted 
in  duty  grows  up  fair  and  strong  between  the  husband 
and  wife  that  were  given  to  each  other,  as  it  does 
between  parents  and  children,  brothers  and  sisters, 
where  no  personal  choice  preceded  the  relationship. 
Moreover  a  real  and  unalterable  affection  withstood, 
and  will  always  withstand,  opposition,  and  come  out 
but  the  stronger  for  the  test.  With  our  modern  cus- 
toms mercenary  marriages  do  not  seem  to  have  been 

H 


ii4    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

abolished,  and  it  is  certainly  more  for  the  dignity  of 
the  woman  that  a  marriage  of  convenience  should  be 
treated  openly  as  a  matter  of  family  policy,  than  that 
she  should  be  taken  into  society  with  the  unavowed,  yet 
not  less  well-understood,  object  of  catching  the  richest 
match  of  the  season. 

The  stories  of  the  time  afford  instances  of  all  sorts : 
of  arranged  marriages  that  turned  out  happily,  and 
love-matches  that  turned  out  ill ;  of  some  who  followed 
their  own  way,  and  whose  choice  was  blessed  with 
highest  happiness ;  of  some  who  took  it  to  their 
hurt ;  but  certainly  no  period  of  which  we  read  in  any 
detail  can  show  more  instances  of  loving  and  devoted 
wives. 

The  drawback  to  the  old-fashioned  method  was  that, 
especially  in  the  case  of  heiresses,  the  parents  or 
guardians  were  in  such  a  hurry  to  secure  contingent 
advantages,  that  the  poor  little  girl  found  herself  saddled 
with  the  responsibilities  of  married  life  and  nursing 
her  babies  when  she  had  hardly  put  away  her  dolls. 
It  was  exceptional  for  marriage  to  take  place  absolutely 
in  the  nursery,  as  in  the  case  of  little  Lady  Mary 
Villiers,  not  only  wife,  but  widow,  before  she  was 
nine  years  old  ;  but  it  was  quite  a  common  thing  for  a 
child  to  be  married  at  thirteen.  In  that  case  she  was 
usually  given  a  year  or  two  of  education  before  she 
lived  with  her  husband,  and  he,  if  only  about  fifteen  or 
sixteen,  often  went  to  Oxford  after  his  marriage,  or 
travelled  abroad. 

This  was  the  case  with  Lord  Herbert  of  Cherbury, 
who,  in  the  last  years  of  the  preceding  century,  was 
married  at  the  age  of  fifteen  to  his  cousin  Mary  Herbert 
of  St.  Gillian's,  a  woman  much  older  than  himself. 
She  had  remained  unmarried  till  the  age  of  one-and- 
twenty,  at  that  day  considered  quite  mature,  her  father 
having  left  to  her  all  his  estates  in  Monmouthshire 
and  Ireland  on  condition  that  she  married  one  of  the 


GIVING  IN  MARRIAGE  115 

surname  of  Herbert,  and  none  having  yet  appeared 
of  fit  age  and  fortune  to  match  with  her,  she  at  last 
bestowed  her  hand  on  her  young  cousin.  After  the 
marriage  Lord  Herbert,  with  his  wife  and  mother, 
returned  to  Oxford  and  pursued  his  studies — '  followed 
his  book  more  closely  than  ever'  is  his  own  graphic 
expression — till  the  age  of  eighteen,  when  his  mother 
took  a  house  in  London  where  for  a  time  the  young 
couple  lived  with  her. 

In  this  instance  the  marriage  does  not  appear  to  have 
been  an  entirely  happy  one,  to  judge  from  the  little 
scene  he  relates  as  having  taken  place  when  he  wished 
to  make  arrangements  to  go  abroad,  though  he  says  he 
had  *  lived  with  her  in  all  conjugal  loyalty  for  the  space 

*  of  ten  years. 

1  About  the  year  1608,  my  two  daughters,  called 
'  Beatrice  and  Florance,  who  lived  not  yet  long  after,  and 
'  one  son  Richard  being  born,  and  come  to  so  much 
1  maturity  that,  though  in  their  mere  childhood,  they 
'  gave  no  little  hope  of  themselves  for  the  future  time, 
4  I  called  them  all  before  my  wife,  demanding  how  she 
'  liked  them,  to  which  she  answering,  well ;  I  demanded 
1  then,  whether  she  was  willing  to  do  so  much  for  them 

*  as  I  would  ;  whereupon  she  replying,  demanded  what 
'  I  meant  by  that.     I  told  her  that,  for  my  part,  I  was 
'  but  young  for  a  man,  and  she  not  old  for  a  wom^n  ; 
'  that  our  lives  were  in  the  hand  of  God  ;    that  if  He 
4  pleased  to  call  either  of  us  away,  that  party  which 
'  remained  might  marry  again,  and  have  children  by 

*  some  other,  to  which  our  estates  might  be  disposed  ; 
'  for  preventing  whereof  I  thought  fit  to  motion  to  her 
<  that,  if  she  would  assure  upon  the  son  any  quantity  of 
'  lands  from  ^300  a  year  to  ;£iooo,  I  would  do  the  like  : 
'  but  my  wife  not  approving  hereof,  answered  in  these 
'  express  words,  that  she  would  not  draw  the  cradle  upon 
'  her  head  ;  whereupon,  I  desiring  her  to  advise  better 
4  upon  the  business,  and  to  take  some  few  days5  respite 


n6    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

<  for  that  purpose,  she  seemed  to  depart  from  me  not 

*  very  well  contented. 

4  About  a  week  or  ten  days  afterwards,  I  demanded 

*  again   what  she    thought  concerning  the    motion    I 
i  made,  to  which  yet  she  said  no  more,  but  that  she 

*  thought  she  had  already  answered  me  sufficiently  to 
'  the  point.     I  then  told  her  that  I  should  make  another 
'  motion  to  her,  which  was,  that  in  regard  I  was  too 

*  young  to  go  beyond  sea  before  I  married  her,  she 
'  now  would  give  me  leave  for  awhile  to  see  foreign 

*  countries ;    howbeit,   if  she  would   assure  her  lands 
'  as  I  would  mine,  in  the  manner  above-mentioned,  I 
4  would  never  depart  from  her :    she  answered  that  I 

*  knew  her  mind  before  concerning  that  point,  yet  that 

*  she  should  be  sorry  I  went  beyond  sea  ;  nevertheless, 
'  if  I  would  needs  go,  she  could  not  help  it. 

4  This,  whether  a  licence  taken  or  given,  served  my 
4  turn  to  prepare  without  delay  for  a  journey  beyond 

*  sea,  that  so  I  might  satisfy  that  curiosity  I  long  since 

*  had  to  see  foreign  countries.' 

In  the  interesting  account  of  Ewenny  Priory,  written 
by  Colonel  Turberville,  there  is  a  curious  instance  of 
somewhat  the  same  sort  of  family  arrangement.  It 
properly  belongs  in  point  of  date  to  the  time  of  the 
Commonwealth,  but  at  least  it  shows  that  the  custom 
obtained  throughout  this  half-century.  Edward  Carne 
of  Ewenny  left  a  daughter  Blanche,  aged  ten,  as  his 
heiress.  He  bequeathed  to  her  all  his  considerable 
estates  and  castles  on  condition  that,  before  she  was 
twenty-one,  she  should  marry  one  of  the  sons  of  his 
cousin,  William  Carne  of  Nash, — 'the  choice  and 

*  selection  of  which  of  them  being  left  unto  my  said 
'  daughter,   to  satisfy  her  own   affection,   in   hope  of 

*  their  more  comfortable  co-habitation   and  to  oblige 

<  the  respects  of  the  said  son.'     If  she  refused  to  marry 
any  one  of  them,  the  estates  were  to  pass  at  once  to  his 
cousin  William  Carne,  or  his  heirs.      This  being  so, 


GIVING  IN  MARRIAGE  117 

there  was  no  temptation  to  them  to  put  any  pressure 
upon  her  inclinations,  but  either  she  was  a  prudent 
little  person  for  her  years  or  not  averse  to  her  cousins, 
for  before  she  was  eleven  she  had  made  her  choice. 
Her  cousin  William  had  eight  sons  then  living,  so  she 
had  a  tolerably  wide  selection,  and  she  wisely  chose 
John  the  youngest,  who  was  only  double  her  age.  How 
the  match  turned  out  we  are  not  told — in  all  probability 
happily,  since  it  is  the  happy  marriages  that  leave  no 
story,  and  the  chances  were  better  than  in  the  case  of 
Lord  Herbert,  the  disparity  in  years  being  the  other 
way. 

The  little  heiress  spoken  of  in  the  last  chapter, 
Elizabeth  Tanfield,  was  probably  not  allowed  even  so 
much  freedom  of  choice.  Lady  Tanfield,  we  may  be 
sure  from  what  we  read  of  her,  was  a  woman  who 
*  would  stand  no  nonsense.'  Elizabeth's  inclinations 
were  not  likely  to  have  been  consulted,  and  at  fifteen, 
so  long  as  her  beloved  books  were  not  taken  from  her, 
it  was  quite  immaterial  to  her  whom  she  married,  and 
so  far  as  is  recorded  she  made  no  objection  to  being 
bestowed  upon  Sir  Henry  Gary,  afterwards  Lord  Falk- 
land, a  man  many  years  her  senior,  who  avowedly 
wanted  her  for  her  money,  and  for  many  years  made  no 
pretence  of  any  affection  for  her.  For  some  time  after 
her  marriage  she  resided  either  with  her  own  parents  or 
with  his,  and  certainly  gained  very  little  in  the  way  of 
liberty  to  follow  her  own  pursuits,  both  mother  and 
mother-in-law  treating  her  with  the  utmost  severity. 
Lady  Tanfield,  who  was  a  woman  of  so  little  education 
that  she  could  not  appreciate  her  daughter's,  insisted  on 
her  copying  all  her  letters  to  her  husband  out  of  a  Com- 
plete Letter-writer,  so  that  any  confidential  intercourse 
between  the  pair  was  precluded.  Lady  Gary  could  not 
only  write,  but  express  herself  extremely  well,  and  it  is 
a  great  pity  that  so  little  of  her  own  writing  should 
survive.  Her  lively  imagination  and  warm  heart  would 


ii8     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

have  given  letters  of  hers  great  value  and  interest, 
the  more  so  as  she  was  singularly  unaffected.  She 
lives,  however,  with  all  her  spontaneous  charm,  in  the 
pages  of  her  daughter's  memoir. 

Another  mercenary  marriage  was  that  of  little  Mary 
Blacknall,  daughter  of  John  Blacknall  of  Abingdon, 
Berkshire,  who  was  left  an  orphan  at  nine  years  old, 
and  being  an  heiress  of  some  consequence,  became  a 
ward  of  the  Crown.  These  wardships  were  a  lucrative 
matter,  and  an  heiress  was  made  the  subject  of  much 
chaffering.  Four  relations  applied  for  the  custody  of 
the  young  lady,  with  the  right  to  bestow  her  in 
marriage  when  she  should  attain  the  age  of  fourteen. 
One  of  the  guardians,  named  Libb,  tried  in  an  under- 
hand way  to  marry  her  to  his  son  before  she  was 
twelve  ;  but  another,  her  uncle  Wiseman,  becoming 
aware  of  it,  appealed  to  the  court,  and  an  order  was 
made  that  the  ward,  '  unmarryed,  unaffyed,  and  uncon- 
tracted,'  should,  under  a  penalty  of  ^5000,  be  sent  to 
Lady  Denham  of  Boarstall  in  Buckinghamshire,  to 
be  brought  up  with  her  daughters.  Three  of  the 
guardians  then  offered  her  hand  to  Sir  Edmund 
Verney  for  his  eldest  son,  at  that  time  about  fifteen. 
Sir  Edmund  agreed  to  take  the  child,  and  pay  the 
,£1000  still  due  to  the  Crown,  her  uncles  stipulating 
that  she  should  not  be  forced  in  marriage,  but  should 
be  well  bred,  and  allowed  to  make  her  choice  at  years 
competent.  Sir  Edmund  and  Dame  Margaret  loyally 
fulfilled  their  trust,  and  trained  her  to  be  a  good, 
charming,  and  accomplished  woman. 

Thirteen  was  considered  to  be  '  a  competent  age,' 
and  a  decree  having  been  procured  from  the  Court  of 
Wards,  she  was  married  to  Ralph  in  May  1639,  he 
being  then  not  quite  sixteen.  The  wedding  was  a  very 
quiet  one,  and  Lady  Verney  writes  in  excuse  to  Mrs. 
Wiseman,  the  wife  of  one  of  the  uncles  :— '  Your  neece 
*  and  my  sonne  are  now  marred.  God  send  them  as 


GIVING  IN  MARRIAGE  119 

'  much  happiness  as  I  wish  them,  and  then  I  am  sure 
1  it  will  be  to  all  our  comforts.'  She  apologises  for  the 
privacy  of  the  wedding,  but  hopes  to  see  the  Wisemans 
at  Claydon,  f  wher  though  you  will  not  find  a  wedding 
1  feast,  yett  I  will  assure  you  of  the  heartiest  wellcome 
1  I  can  give  ;  and  shall  alwayes  rest  thankful  to  you  for 
'  the  favour.  Mr.  Verney  is  gone  to  Courte,  but  com- 

*  manded  me  to  present  his  love  and  service.'     The 
bride  herself  writes l : — 

'  GOOD  AUNT, — Besides  the  desire  I  have  to  heare  of 
1  your  health  and  my  uncles,  I  thinck  it  fitt  to  acquaint 
'  you  that  now  I  am  maried,  in  which  state  I  hope  God 

*  wil  give  mee  his  blessings  and  make  it  happy  to  mee. 

<  Sir  Edmund  and  my  lady  would  have  had  you  at  the 

*  marrage,  but  I  prayed  them  it  might  be  privatly  done, 

*  and  soe  it  was,  for  neyther  Sir  Thomas  Denton  nor 

<  his  lady  were   present  att  it.      And  as  I   had  your 

*  loving  advise  to  it  soe  I  assure  myself  I  shall  have 

<  your  prayers  for  the  good  success  of  it.     I  pray  you 
'  present  my  service  to  my  good  uncle  and  yourself, 

<  with  my  best  love  to  all  my  cussens  ;  and  soe  I  rest, 

*  Your  loving  neece  to  serve  you,  M.  VERNEY.' 

In  her  reply  Mrs.  Wiseman  mentions  that  'Aunt 
Libb,'  who  had  tried  to  marry  Mary  to  her  son,  <  sayeth 
'  that  she  hoppeth  that  I  shall  repent  the  mach  as  much 

*  as  anything  that  ever   I   did,    but  I   have  a  betere 
'  beleafe.' 

Her  '  betere  beleafe '  was  justified  :  no  marriage  could 
have  been  happier.  After  years  of  married  life,  when 
sorrows  and  difficulties  had  tested  and  strengthened  the 
bond,  in  a  letter  to  Ralph,  his  uncle,  Dr.  Denton,  speaks 
of  her  as  '  your  sweetest  comfort.'  After  the  marriage 
the  young  husband  went  to  Oxford  to  pursue  his 
studies  ;  Mary  returned  for  a  little  while  to  her  own 
relations,  and  then  came  home  to  Claydon  to  be  the 

1   Verney  Papers.     Camden  Society. 


120     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

pet  daughter  of  the  house,  as  much  loved  by  her  father 
and  mother-in-law  as  any  of  their  own  children.  She 
was  especially  dear  to  Sir  Edmund,  whose  letters  to  her 
are  full  of  fatherly  affection.  One  is  written  from  Bath, 
whither  he  had  gone  to  try  the  waters  for  sciatica,  with 
which  he  was  greatly  troubled. 

'GooD   DAWGHTER, — I   cannot  prevaile  with  your 
'  husband  to  leave  me.     I  cannot  gett  him  from  me 

*  without  a  quarrell.      Therefore,   good  heart,  forgive 
'  us  boath,  since  his  absence  is  against  boath  our  wills. 
6  Hee  is  every  day  in  the  Bathe-;  I  pray  god  it  maye 

*  doe  him  good.     For  my  parte  I  am  sure  I  fiend  none 
'  in  it,  but  since  I  am  come  here,  I  will  try  the  utter- 

*  most  of  it,  that  I  maye  not  bee   reproacht  att  my 
'  returne  for  dooing  things  by  halves.     Att  our  first 

*  coming  the  towne  was  empty,  but  now  it  is  full  of 
'  very  good  company,  and  wee  pass  our  time  awaye 
'  as  merrily  as  paine  will  give  uss  leave.     In  discharge 
'  of  parte  of  my  promiss,  I  have  written  to  my  lady 

*  Gawdy  and   Mrs.   Siddenham.      I   knowe  not  where 

*  they  are,  but  I  presume  you  doe.     I  pray  send  thes 
'  inclosed  lettres  to  them.     Commend  mee  to  my  neece 
'  Hobart  and  Doll,  to  Natt,  if  hee  bee  still  with  you  ; 

*  and   soe,   deere   heart,  farwell.  —  Your  loving  father 
4  and  faithful  friend,  ED.  VERNEY. 

'  Bathe,  this  2Oth  of  August  (1635) 
6  For  my  dawghter  Verney,  thes.' 

Another  letter  some  few  years  later  was  written  from 
York,  where  Sir  Edmund  was  in  attendance  on  the  king, 
on  the  subject  of  the  marriage  of  his  widowed  sister,  Mrs. 
Pulteney,  who  had  privately  married  a  Roman  Catholic, 
to  the  dismay  of  her  relations.  The  strength  of  feeling 
in  the  matter  is  indicated  by  Ralph's  characterising  her 
being  married  by  a  Roman  priest  as  '  soe  foule  an  act.' 


GIVING  IN  MARRIAGE  121 

<  GOOD  DAWGHTER, — I  know  noe  news  to  send  thee, 
'  nor  will  I  use  anything  of  cerimony  with  one  so  near 
'  mee.  I  would  faine  tell  thee  how  much  I  love  thee, 
'  but  trewly  I  cannott.  I  know  not  any  waye  soe 
'  trewly  to  express  it  as  to  saye  you  are  in  my  affection 
6  equall  to  your  husband.  Beleeve  mee,  sweete  hearte, 
4  I  can  never  love  thee  more,  and  I  hope  I  shall  never 

*  love  thee  less. 

'  Daughter,  I  know  you  have  a  great  interest  in  my 

*  good  sister  Poultny.     I  begg  of  you  to  use  all  your 

*  credditt  with  her  to  bee  carefull  of  her  selfe.     I  feare 
1  she  will  doe  a  foolish  and  a  wicked  thing.     I  vow  to 
'  God  my  heart  is  soe  full  of  greefe  for  her,  that  I 

*  cannot  fiend  rest  any  where.     God  of  his  mercy  give 

*  her  grace  to  avoyd  the  misfortune.     Comend  mee  to 

*  all  my  frends  with  you  and  thos  at  the  next  howse. 

*  Farewell ;  your  trewly  loving  father,    ED.  VERNEY. 

<  Yorke,  this  Qth  of  April!  (1639). 

'  For  my  deere  daughter  Verney,  thes.' 

Sir  Edmund's  own  daughters,  not  being  great  matches, 
were  not  married  quite  so  quickly.  Gary,  the  fourth, 
his  favourite  and  *  shee-darling,'  was  the  first  to  wed, 
and  was  sixteen  before  a  match  was  arranged  for  her 
with  the  son  of  Sir  Thomas  Gardiner,  a  vehement 
royalist,  whose  views,  expressed  with  hectoring  ex- 
aggeration, must  sometimes  have  clashed  with  the  very 
moderate  ones  of  Sir  Edmund.  From  an  occasional 
reference  in  the  family  letters  we  gather  that  the  affair 
was  quite  a  love-match  and  originated  with  the  young 
people  themselves,  though  the  parents,  as  was  cus- 
tomary, formally  settled  it.  As  to  the  other  sisters  who 
remained  unmarried  at  the  time  of  their  father's  death, 
arranging  matches  for  them  was  not  the  least  of  their 
elder  brother's  cares.  The  extremely  practical  letters 
some  of  them  wrote  upon  the  subject,  show  that  it  was 
not  only  parents  who  were  mercenary  and  prudent. 


122     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

Except  in  the  case  of  Gary,  falling  in  love  seemed  to 
have  had  little  or  nothing  to  do  with  it.  Eventually  these 
young  ladies  were  all  disposed  of,  though  not  in  all 
cases  happily, — Moll,  indeed,  who  was  rather  uncouth, 
according  to  her  sister-in-law's  account,  got  into  sad 
trouble,  in  which  her  uncle  Denton  acted  a  most  kind 
and  fatherly  part.  Even  obstreperous  Betty,  tamed  by 
school,  became  the  wife  of  a  country  parson. 

The  large  family  of  the  Earl  of  Cork  afforded  many 
instances  of  these  very  early  marriages.  His  great 
wealth  and  position  made  his  young  people  of  conse- 
quence, and  they  were  eagerly  sought  after.  His  eldest 
daughter,  Alice,  was  married  to  Lord  Barrymore  when 
she  was  thirteen  ;  the  second,  Sarah,  was  only  twelve 
when  she  was  contracted  to  Sir  Thomas  Moore — indeed, 
the  negotiations  were  begun  when  she  was  but  eight. 
Being  left  a  widow  at  fourteen,  she  was  quickly  re- 
married to  one  of  the  Digby  family.  His  favourite 
daughter  Lettice,  and  her  sister  Joan,  were  left  un- 
married to  the  mature  age  of  nineteen,  and  seem  both 
to  have  made  rather  bad  bargains — in  truth  the  char- 
acters of  the  boys  to  whom  they  were  given  in  marriage 
were  quite  unformed,  and  it  was  hard  to  foretell  whether 
their  wild  foolish  ways  were  the  exuberance  of  youthful 
spirits  or  a  want  of  principle.  Extreme  youth  on  the 
side  of  the  husbands  was  of  course  much  more  of  a 
risk  than  on  the  side  of  the  wife :  the  child  wives  often 
turned  out  remarkably  well ;  the  boy  husbands  less 
often.  How  absurdly  childish  some  of  these  lads  were 
is  shown  by  a  little  note  in  Lord  Cork's  diary,  in  which 
he  always  set  down  every  disbursement  to  the  very 
smallest.1 

'  My  Lord  of  Kildare  for  discovering  who  it  was  that 

*  had  battered  and  abused  my  silver  trencher  plate,  was 

*  by   me   promised  ^"6,  for  which   when   he  had   my 
<  promise,   he  said  that  it  was  himself  with  knocking 

1  Mary  Rich,  Countess  of  Warwick,  by  C.  Fell  Smith. 


GIVING  IN  MARRIAGE  123 

'  marybones  upon  them.  Whereupon  in  discharge  of 
*  my  promise,  I  commanded  my  servant  William 
t  Barber  to  fetch  him  £6  in  gold,  which  his  Lordship 
'  without  making  any  apology  accepted,  and  I  presently 
1  pocketed  that  affront.' 

When  Lord  Dungarvan,  the  Earl's  eldest  son,  was 

nearly  twenty,  King  Charles  interested  himself  in  the 

matter  of  his    matching,    proposing    the   Lady   Anne 

Fielding,  elder  daughter  of  Lady  Denbigh,  and  niece 

of  the   Duke  of  Buckingham.      Dungarvan    had    an 

interview  with  the  king  at  St  James's  Palace  on  the 

subject.     Charles  told  the  young  man  he  did  not  desire 

to  urge  his  affections ;  '  It  was  a  way  he  never  meant 

'  to  use  to  any  of  his  subjects.     "  Lay  your  hand  upon 

"  your  heart,"  the  King  said,  "  and  give  me  an  answer 

"  as  your  affection   moves  you.      This  much   I  will 

"  assure  you,  that  whether  you  like  or  dislike  the  lady, 

"  I  will  never  think  the  worse  of  you,"  and  thereupon 

the  King  departed.    My  Lord,  I  vow  unto  you  I  never 

saw  a  man  express  himself  more  nobly  and  sweetly 

4  than  the  King  did  in  this  business.'    This  extract  is 

taken  from  a  letter  Dungarvan  wrote  to  his  father  after 

seeing  the  king. 

His  mind  being  not  yet  made  up,  it  was  agreed  that 
he  should  travel  for  two  years,  leaving  the  question  in 
abeyance,  at  the  end  of  which  time,  in  spite  of  some 
gossip  and  attempted  mischief-making  between  him 
and  the  young  lady's  family,  he  presented  himself  as 
a  suitor,  and  made  himself  so  agreeable  both  to  Lady 
Anne  and  her  mother,  that  the  match  was  happily 
concluded.  She  seems  to  have  been  almost  as  great  a 
favourite  with  her  father-in-law  as  Mrs.  Ralph  Verney 
was  with  hers,  and  a  very  sweet  little  letter  to  him 
gives  a  pleasant  impression  of  her.  Good  temper  and 
a  submissive  disposition  must  have  been  invaluable  in 
households  where  several  married  sons  and  daughters 
lived  under  the  parental  roof. 


i24    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

It  was  a  pity  the  king  should  not  always  have  acted 
with  the  same  tender  and  wise  consideration  in  these 
marriage  questions,  but  sometimes  he  allowed  himself 
to  be  swayed  by  the  wishes  of  the  queen,  who  was 
a  very  vehement  partisan,  and  always  bent  on  obtain- 
ing favours  for  her  own  attendants.  Sir  Thomas 
Stafford,  her  gentleman -usher,  was  ambitious  of  an 
alliance  with  the  Earl  of  Cork,  and  greatly  desired  to 
marry  his  step  -  daughter,  Elizabeth  Killigrew,  to 
Francis,  the  youngest  but  one  of  Cork's  sons.  The 
lad  was  not  quite  sixteen,  and  his  father  very  wisely 
desired  that  only  a  contract  should  be  entered  into, 
after  which  he  might  travel  and  see  something  of  the 
world.  But  the  young  lady's  mother,  anxious  to 
secure  so  wealthy  a  match  for  her  daughter,  and 
realising  that  with  such  very  young  people  there 
might  yet  be  a  slip  betwixt  cup  and  lip,  insisted  that 
a  marriage  should  be  concluded.  The  king,  urged 
by  the  queen,  wrote  a  letter  to  Lord  Cork,  practically 
tantamount  to  a  command,  requesting  that  he  would 
give  his  consent.  Under  such  pressure,  the  old  earl 
did  not  see  his  way  to  refusing,  but  sent  his  son, 
though  with  some  misgivings,  as  he  showed  in  a 
letter  commending  the  young  man  to  his  future  mother- 
in-law,  'as  a  silken  thread  to  be  wrought  into  what 
'  sample  you  please,  either  flower  or  weed,  and  to  be 
'  knotted  or  untied  as  God  shall  be  pleased  to  put  it 
1  into  your  noble  heart,  .  .  .  and  therefore  I  pray  you 
'  guide  him  to  the  best  improvement  of  himself  and 
'  yours/ 

The  marriage  therefore  took  place,  and  Lord  Cork 
records  in  his  diary  that  the  king  himself  gave  the 
bride  away,  led  her  out  to  dance,  and  conducted  her 
to  the  bedchamber,  *  where  the  Queen  with  her  own 
'  hand  did  help  to  undresse  her.  And  his  Majesty 

*  and  the  Queen  both  stayed  in   the   bedchamber  till 

*  they  saw  my  son  and  his  wife  in  bed  together,  and 


GIVING  IN  MARRIAGE  125 

*  they  both  kissed  the  bride  and  blessed  them  as  I  did.' 
Next  day  the  Earl  made  them  a  great  feast  in  his  house 
in  the  Savoy,  and  four  days  later  the  young  bride- 
groom departed  with  his  tutor  and  his  brother  by  Rye 
and  Dieppe  for  a  tour  on  the  continent,  leaving  the 
bride  with  her  mother. 

These  ancient  marriage  customs  make  the  reader 
suddenly  realise  at  how  great  a  distance  in  some 
respects  we  stand  from  that  day,  which  in  many  other 
ways  comes  so  strangely  near  our  own. 


CHAPTER    IX 

SOME   WHO   CHOSE   FOR   THEMSELVES 

IN  most  cases  daughters  were  allowed  at  least  a  right 
of  veto :  certainly  it  was  so  with  such  kind  and  affec- 
tionate parents  as  Lord  and  Lady  Leicester,  the  Earl 
of  Cork,  Sir  Edmund  and  Lady  Verney,  and  doubtless 
with  hosts  of  others.  As  a  rule  the  daughters  seem 
to  have  fallen  in  with  their  parents'  views  willingly 
enough.  The  inexorable  father  is  occasionally  to  be 
met  with,  but  it  is  more  often  the  mother  who  will  not 
suffer  her  plans  to  be  thwarted,  and  tries  to  coerce 
a  disobedient  girl.  Lady  Tanfield,  we  may  be  sure, 
would  have  carried  out  her  will,  but  Elizabeth  sub- 
mitted quite  passively  to  her  fate.  Mrs.  Murray,  whose 
daughter  always  speaks  of  her  with  respect  and  affec- 
tion, was  as  adamant  when  Anne  wished  to  follow  her 
own  will ;  but  there  were  many  who  consulted  their 
children's  inclinations  almost  as  much  as  modern 
parents  do. 

The  fair  Lady  Dorothy  Sidney,  Doll  as  she  was 
in  her  own  family,  '  Sacharissa,'  in  Waller's  verse,1 
must  needs  have  been  greatly  sought  after.  Her 
parents,  however,  were  in  no  haste  to  part  with  her, 
and  she  was  kept  in  her  country  seclusion  till  she  was 
nearly  eighteen,  when  her  mother. realised  that  it  was 
time  to  see  her  settled  in  life,  and  took  her  up  to 
town.  She  had  not  been  without  lovers  in  the  country  : 
Edmund  Waller,  as  we  have  seen,  had  known  and 

1  Sacharissa,  by  Mrs.  Ady. 
126 


SOME  WHO  CHOSE  FOR  THEMSELVES    127 

admired  her  from  early  girlhood,  and  in  '  Go,  lovely 
rose,'  reproaches  her  for  holding  so  aloof.  She 
evidently  did  not  return  his  ardour.  Inexperienced  as 
she  was,  her  clear  eyes  probably  discerned  the  innate 
unworthiness  of  the  man  who  later  rushed  into  a  hope- 
less and  incapably  managed  plot,  and  then  betrayed 
his  colleagues  to  save  himself.  She  accepted  the 
tribute  of  his  exquisite  lyrics  with  unmoved  dignity, 
but  neither  she  nor  her  parents  ever  took  his  pre- 
tensions seriously.  Very  likely  he  did  not  himself, — 
it  was  a  poet's  idyl,  nothing  more. 

Taken  into  society,  Lady  Doll  still  showed  herself 
reserved  and  hard  to  please  though  many  suitors  were 
offered  to  her  notice.  Overtures  were  made  on  behalf 
of  the  Earl  of  Devonshire,  who  seemed  in  every  respect 
a  most  desirable  match  :  a  man  of  irreproachable  con- 
duct and  charming  manners,  newly  returned  from 
abroad  with  all  the  polish  foreign  courts  could  give, 
he  yet  failed  to  please  the  fair  Sacharissa,  and  this 
although  his  sister  Lady  Anne  Cavendish  was  her 
bosom  friend.  He  and  his  brother  Sir  Charles  were 
considered  among  the  most  accomplished  young  men 
of  a  day  which  abounded  in  men  of  culture,  and 
Dorothy  could  appreciate  culture.  It  was  all  in  vain  : 
everything  was  favourable  except  Dorothy's  own 
heart,  and  her  wise  mother  left  her  free  to  follow 
its  dictates,  well  knowing  her  seriousness  and  good 
sense. 

Sir  Richard  Lovelace  also  wooed  in  vain ;  but 
it  was  not  wonderful  that  he  failed  to  win,  since  his 
romantic  story  was  well  known,  and  Dorothy  was  not 
likely  to  care  for  a  heart  that  was  the  acknowledged 
property  of  another.  He  had  been  deeply  attached  to 
Miss  Lucy  Sacheverell,  who,  hearing  false  news  of  his 
death,  married  some  one  else,  and  he  continued  to  write 
to  her  exquisite  verses,  To  Lucasta — Lux  Casta,  chaste 
light,  a  play  upon  her  name  in  the  taste  of  the  day, 


128     HOME  LIFE  UNDER    THE  STUARTS 

which  many  years  after,  while  in  prison,  he  collected 
and  published. 

At  length  the  right  man  appeared  in  the  person  of 
young  Lord  Sunderland  of  Althorp.  Having  lost  his 
father  early,  he  had  been  carefully  educated  by  his 
mother,  who  was  Penelope,  daughter  of  Henry 
Wriothesley,  Lord  Southampton,  the  friend  of  Shake- 
speare and  of  Essex.  His  uncle,  Thomas  Wriothesley, 
was  joint-guardian,  and  the  young  man  grew  up  in  an 
atmosphere  of  refinement  not  unworthy  of  Penshurst. 
He  was  sent  to  Magdalen  at  sixteen,  and  took  his  M.A. 
degree  at  the  same  time  as  Prince  Rupert,  on  the 
occasion  of  the  king's  visit  to  Oxford  in  1636.  He  is 
described  as  handsome,  with  very  gentle  manners  and 
refined  tastes,  studious,  and  fond  of  the  society  of  men 
older  than  himself.  Conscientious  too,  and  devoted 
to  a  country  life  and  the  care  of  his  household  and 
tenants,  and  rather  shrinking  from  the  gay  world,  he 
was  in  all  points  well  fitted  to  mate  with  sweet 
Dorothy.  The  marriage  was,  as  was  customary, 
arranged  between  the  parents,  but  it  was  very  evident 
the  proposals  followed  the  inclinations  of  the  young 
people.  The  wedding  took  place  at  Penshurst  on  the 
2oth  of  July  1639. 

Very  different  was  the  marriage  of  Mary  Boyle,  the 
youngest  living  of  the  Earl  of  Cork's  numerous 
daughters.1  Having  married  her  five  elder  sisters  to 
his  mind,  he  was  very  anxious  that  his  favourite, 
Mary,  should  make  a  good  match,  and  at  twelve 
years  old,  which  was  considered  the  proper  time  for  a 
young  lady  to  make  her  debut,  she  was  taken  from  the 
charge  of  Lady  Clayton,  who  had  brought  her  up,  and 
returned  to  her  father's  house.  She  was  set  up  with  an 
abundance  of  fine  clothes,  feathers,  and  jewels,  satins 
and  brocades,  for  her  father  was  bent  on  giving  her 
every  advantage,  and  though  so  careful  and  accurate  in 

1  Mary  Rich,  Countess  of  Warwick. 


SOME  WHO  CHOSE  FOR  THEMSELVES     129 

all  money  matters  never  grudged  spending  liberally  for 
his  daughters. 

The  first  suitor  who  presented  himself  was  Sir  James 
Hamilton,  but  Mary  would  have  nothing  whatever 
to  say  to  him,  and  he  retired  discomfited  to  'ye 
Bathe '  to  nurse  his  disappointment.  Lord  Cork 
scolded  Mary,  who  seems  to  have  given  him  some 
encouragement  at  the  outset ;  but  the  match  was 
not  a  very  brilliant  one,  and  her  father  allowed  it  to 
drop. 

He  then  took  a  house  in  the  Savoy  from  Sir  Thomas 
Stafford,  that  his  daughter  might  have  every  oppor- 
tunity of  becoming  acquainted  with  the  fashionable 
young  gallants  of  the  town.  In  vain,  however.  Mistress 
Mary  liked  very  well  dressing  and  dancing,  and  being 
escorted  to  plays  and  routs  to  Hyde  Park  and  Spring 
Gardens,  but  when  one  desirable  match  after  another 
wished  to  come  to  the  point  and  settle  matters  with  her 
father,  she  turned  restive  and  would  have  none  of  them. 
Lord  Cork  at  length  grew  out  of  patience  with  her 
whims,  and  thought  to  reduce  her  to  obedience  by  cut- 
ting off  supplies.  But  this  was  not  the  way  to  manage 
Mary.  She  was  not  to  be  coerced.  She  went  into  debt 
for  what  she  wanted,  and  no  doubt  borrowed  for  trifles 
of  her  young  sister-in-law  Elizabeth,  her  brother 
Francis's  wife,  who  was  at  this  time  living  with  them 
and  was  her  'chamber-fellow'  and  great  ally,  and 
backed  her  up  in  all  her  rebellions.  Finding  this 
method  of  overcoming  his  daughter's  wilfulness  vain, 
Lord  Cork  gave  orders  to  his  steward  Chettle  to  restore 
her  allowance  of  a  hundred  pounds  a  year  and  one 
pound  for  pin-money. 

At  length  Mary's  obstinacy  passed  from  the  negative 
to  the  positive.  After  refusing  the  suitors  pressed  upon 
her  by  her  father  she  chose  for  herself,  and  fell  violently 
in  love  with  Charles  Rich,  to  whom,  for  many  reasons, 
Lord  Cork  strongly  objected.  He  was  a  younger  son, 

I 


130    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

his  health  was  indifferent,  and  his  grandfather  the  Earl 
of  Warwick  was  opposed  to  her  father  in  politics.  But 
it  seemed  that  opposition  was  the  one  thing  needed  to 
quicken  Mary's  affections.  Aided  by  Mrs.  Francis 
Boyle,  who  was  very  young  and  very  indiscreet,  the 
two  contrived  secret  meetings,  and  at  last  a  marriage 
was  brought  about  by  means  that  seem  very  question- 
able, to  say  the  least.  Miss  Fell  Smith,  in  her  excellent 
biography,  gives  Mary  the  benefit  of  any  doubt  that  may 
rest  upon  the  affair,  but  her  own  words  are  hardly 
ambiguous.  It  is  almost  impossible  not  to  conclude 
that  she  pledged  her  honour  to  extort  her  father's 
consent.  Circumstances  played  into  her  hands :  her 
sister-in-law  sickened  of  something  which  it  was  feared 
might  prove  smallpox,  and  Mary  in  haste  was  taken 
first  to  her  sister's  house,  and  then,  since  it  appeared 
that  she  had  already  taken  the  infection,  hurried  off  to 
a  lodging  where  she  was  under  no  one's  control.  Her 
illness  turned  out  to  be  nothing  more  serious  than 
measles,  and  while  she  was  laid  up  she  was  frequently 
visited  by  her  lover.  Before  long  the  length  to  which 
the  affair  had  gone  was  discovered  by  her  father  and 
brothers,  and  directly  she  was  able  to  be  moved  she  was 
taken  by  her  brother,  Lord  Broghill,  to  a  little  house 
near  Hampton  Court.  The  hurried  negotiations  that 
ensued  between  her  father  and  brothers  on  the  one  part, 
and  Lord  Warwick  and  Lord  Holland,  the  young 
man's  grandfather  and  uncle  on  the  other,  do  not  look 
as  if  nothing  more  than  a  verbal  promise  had  passed. 
Neither  is  it  likely  that,  offended  though  he  was,  Lord 
Cork  would  have  suffered  his  favourite  daughter's  wed- 
ding to  be  such  a  hole-and-corner  affair  had  there  been 
no  scandal  about  it.  It  took  place  quite  privately  at 
Shepperton,  'in  fre  hand,'  as  the  parish  register 
records,  there  having  been  no  person  to  give  the  bride 
away.  This  view  of  the  story  is  borne  out  by  Mary's 
extreme  penitence  in  after  life  when  a  great  change  had 


SOME  WHO  CHOSE  FOR  THEMSELVES     131 

come  upon  her,  and  from  a  giddy,  high-spirited,  wilful 
girl,  she  had  grown  into  a  serious,  deeply  religious 
woman. 

Outwardly  she  prospered.  Those  who  stood  between 
Charles  Rich  and  the  family  honours  died,  and  he  suc- 
ceeded to  the  earldom  of  Warwick.  She  was  an 
excellent  wife  to  a  very  trying  husband,  but  hardly  a 
happy  one.  His  ill  health  became  chronic.  He  was  a 
martyr  to  the  gout,  and  his  violent  temper  and  bad 
language  were  a  great  trial  to  the  tender  conscience  of 
his  wife  to  the  end  of  their  married  life.  He  was 
sincerely  attached  to  her  at  bottom,  but  he  rarely  let 
her  feel  it,  and  gave  her  ample  cause  to  repent  getting 
her  own  way. 

One  who  was  much  happier  in  making  her  own 
choice,  and  adhering  to  it  in  the  face  of  opposition  from 
father  and  brothers,  was  Dorothy  Osborne,1  one  of  the 
most  attractive  figures  that  seventeenth-century  letters 
reveal.  But  then,  though  her  constancy  to  her  lover 
was  unshaken,  she  would  do  nothing  against  her 
father's  will.  Until  she  could  overcome  opposition  she 
would  not  marry  Sir  William  Temple,  but  she  would 
marry  no  one  else,  and  her  firmness,  good  sense,  and 
discretion  conquered  in  the  end.  Her  father  was  Sir 
Peter  Osborne,  Lieutenant-Governor  of  Guernsey,  who 
held  Castle  Cornet  for  the  king,  and  afterwards  retired 
to  Chicksands  in  Bedfordshire,  and  at  the  time  of  her 
engagement  Dorothy  was  the  only  unmarried  daughter. 
Her  first  meeting  with  Sir  William  Temple  was  dis- 
tinguished by  a  curious  little  incident.  She  was 
travelling  in  the  Isle  of  Wight  with  one  of  her  brothers, 
and  met  with  Sir  William  at  an  inn  where  they  stayed. 
It  was  in  the  year  1648,  when  feeling  on  both  sides  ran 
high,  and  young  Osborne,  boy-like,  reckless  of  conse- 
quences, scratched  on  a  window  with  a  diamond  ring 
some  remarks  highly  uncomplimentary  to  the  ruling 

1  Letters  of  Dorothy  Osborne. 


132     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

powers.  Before  they  left  in  the  morning  the  escapade 
was  discovered  ;  they  were  detained,  and  he  narrowly 
escaped  being  put  in  prison  by  his  sister  taking  the 
crime  on  herself,  as  the  authorities  would  not  be  so 
likely  to  visit  such  a  thing  on  a  woman.  Whether  Sir 
William,  who  though  not  a  strong  partisan  was  both 
by  family  connections  and  personal  bias  on  the  Parlia- 
mentary side,  exerted  himself  on  their  behalf  we  are  not 
told — probably  he  did.  At  any  rate,  Dorothy's  spirit  and 
charm,  though  she  was  not  pretty,  made  upon  him  an 
impression  never  to  be  effaced. 

As  may  be  supposed,  such  an  alliance  would  be  most 
repugnant  to  Sir  Peter  and  his  sons,  who  were  all 
vehement  royalists,  although  he  considered  himself  to 
have  been  unfairly  treated  by  both  the  king  and  the 
Prince  of  Wales,  and  had  certainly  been  maligned  by 
Sir  George  Carteret,  the  Governor  of  Jersey.  His 
loyalty  was,  however,  quite  unshaken,  and  he  was  most 
averse  to  give  his  daughter  to  a  man  who  was  in  the 
service  of  the  Parliament.  Dorothy  refused  to  act  in 
opposition  to  his  wishes,  and  for  long  there  was  no 
definite  engagement,  but  the  two  carried  on  a  corre- 
spondence through  many  years.  Her  letters  have  been 
most  fortunately  preserved,  and  in  them  we  see  a  woman 
of  singular  charm  ;  warm-hearted  but  reserved,  clever, 
well-read,  with  a  keen  sense  of  humour,  full  of  dignity 
and  with  a  fine  sense  of  what  was  fitting  in  the  rather 
unusual  circumstances.  They  must  not  only  have  been  a 
treasure  to  the  fortunate  lover  who  received  them,  but 
they  come  to  us  after  the  lapse  of  two  centuries  and  a 
half  with  an  unfaded  freshness  and  charm.  They  give 
a  delightful  picture  of  the  quiet  country  life  at  Chick- 
sands,  her  early  walks  on  dewy  mornings,  her  books 
about  which  she  writes  much  bright  and  acute  criticism, 
of  her  visitors,  especially  her  unwelcome  suitors,  whom 
she  contrives  to  keep  at  bay.  She  makes  very  merry 
over  Sir  Justinian  Isham,  an  elderly  aspirant  with 


SOME  WHO  CHOSE  FOR  THEMSELVES     133 

grown-up  daughters,  whose  stately  deportment  caused 
her  to  dub  him  the  Emperor. 

Love-letters  in  the  ordinary  sense  these  scarcely  are  : 
they  are  rather  the  letters  of  a  friend  to  a  friend  in 
whom  she  was  secure  of  entire  sympathy  both  in  feeling 
and  intellectually.  She  indulges  in  no  expressions  of 
affection — that  is  rather  understood  than  expressed. 
Indeed  her  opinion  on  the  subject  of  love-matches  is 
rather  startling  in  one  who  followed  so  faithfully  the 
dictates  of  her  own  heart.  Clearly  she  has  in  mind 
some  such  instance  of  wilfulness  as  that  of  Lady  Mary 
Boyle,  whose  story  has  just  been  told,  or  that  of  a 
younger  sister  of  Dorothy  Sidney,  Lady  Isabella,  who 
insisted  on  marrying  her  cousin,  Lord  Strangford, 
against  her  father's  will,  and  of  whom  Dorothy 
Osborne  more  than  once  speaks  with  strong  disap- 
proval. What  she  says  is  evidently  in  answer  to  some 
remark  in  a  letter  from  Sir  William. 

'  No,  you  are  mistaken  ;  but  I  '11  tell  you  what  I 
1  could  suffer,  that  they  should  say  I  married  where  I 
'  had  no  inclination,  because  my  friends  thought  it  fit, 

*  rather  than  that  I  had  run  wilfully  to  my  own  ruin  in 

*  pursuit  of  a  fond  passion  of  my  own.     To  marry  for 
'  love  were  no  reproachful  thing  if  we  did  not  see  that 
'  of  the  thousand  couples  that  do  it,  hardly  one  can  be 
1  brought  for  an  example  that  it  may  be  done  and  not 
1  repented  of  afterwards.     Is  there  anything  thought  so 
'  indiscreet,  or  that  makes  one  more  contemptible  ? ' 

What  a  pity  Sir  William's  letters  were  not  preserved 
as  well, — surely  Dorothy  must  have  kept  them,  and 
some  descendant  who  disliked  lumber  and  found  them 
quite  unpolitical  must  have  committed  them  to  the 
flames.  The  Sir  William  Temple  of  Macaulay's 
Essays  seems  a  cold,  formal  person  :  Dorothy's  William, 
we  feel  sure,  must  have  had  more  human  nature  about 
him.  Did  he  express  more  warmth  of  feeling  than  she 
did?  Probably,  for  she  had  a  great  idea  of  womanly 


134    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

reticence.  We  know,  at  any  rate,  that  he  sat  up  late  at 
night  to  have  his  replies  ready  for  the  return  of  the 
slow  carrier  who  brought  the  precious  missives  up  from 
Bedfordshire,  and  called  early  the  next  morning  to  take 
back  the  replies.  I  doubt  if  they  were  so  lively,  so 
unaffected,  such  good  reading  as  hers,  but  they  were 
eminently  satisfactory  to  the  one  for  whom  they  were 
written. 

It  is  interesting  to  know  that  this  charming  Dorothy 
had  a  great  admiration  for  that  other  Dorothy  of  whom 
we  have  been  speaking.  She  was  acquainted  with  her 
through  Sir  William  Temple,  who  had  spent  a  good 
deal  of  his  boyhood  in  the  rectory  at  Penshurst  under 
the  care  of  his  uncle  Dr.  Hammond,  and  had  been 
thrown  a  good  deal  with  the  young  Sidneys.  He 
had,  as  was  likely,  a  boy's  enthusiasm  for  the  beautiful 
'Sacharissa,'  and  his  own  Dorothy  when  she  sends  him 
her  portrait  playfully  begs  that  it  may  not  displace  that 
of  'my  lady.'  The  fair  young  widow  whose  sorrows 
had  placed  her  in  a  niche  apart,  was  a  still  more 
romantic  figure  than  the  poet's  muse,  and  it  was  with 
a  shock  of  absolute  indignation  that  Dorothy  heard 
that  the  adored  Lady  Sunderland  was  about  to  descend 
from  her  pathetic  solitude  and  take  a  second  husband,  a 
certain  Mr.  Smith. 

After  long  years  of  submissive  faithfulness,  of  hector- 
ing from  brothers,  of  occasional  brief  misunderstandings, 
the  lovers  were  at  last  united  after  the  death  of  Sir  Peter, 
but  not  till  fate  had  tried  a  last  shaft  in  striking  down 
Dorothy  with  the  smallpox  on  the  very  eve  of  her 
marriage,  when  she  was  in  London  choosing  her  outfit. 
Marred  though  her  looks  were,  it  made  no  difference 
to  her  faithful  lover  :  it  was  the  woman,  not  the  beauty, 
that  he  had  adored,  and  as  in  the  old-fashioned  novels, 
they  were  married  and  lived  happy  ever  after. 

Another  who  offered  a  passive  resistance  to  the  plans 
made  by  her  parents  for  her  settlement  in  life  was  Lucy 


SOME  WHO  CHOSE  FOR  THEMSELVES     135 

Apsley,  the  precocious  infant  who  could  recite  sermons 
at  four  years  old  and  pulled  other  children's  dolls  to 
pieces,  who  had  grown  into  a  learned,  austere,  but  very 
handsome  young  woman.  Her  story  of  how  her  en- 
gagement came  about,  related  by  her  own  pen  in  her 
life  of  her  husband,  is  a  charming  little  romance.  Her 
description  of  him  at  the  age  of  twenty,  when  he  had 
just  left  Cambridge  where  he  had  been  at  Peterhouse, 
and  according  to  the  fashion  of  the  day  was  about  to 
enter  at  Lincoln's  Inn,  though  drawn  with  a  partial 
hand,  gives  the  reader  a  very  clear  conception  of  the 
man. 

1  He  was  of  a  middle  stature,  of  a  slender  and  exactly 

<  well-proportioned  shape  in  all  parts,  his  complexion 

*  fair,   his   hair  of  light  brown   very   thick-set   in   his 

*  youth,  softer  than  the  finest  silk,  and  curling  into 

*  loose  great  rings  at  the  ends  ;   his  eyes  of  a  lively 

<  grey,  well-shaped  and  full  of  life  and  vigour,  graced 

*  with  many  becoming  motions  ;   his  visage  thin,  his 

*  mouth  well  made,  and  his  lips  very  ruddy  and  grace- 

*  ful,  although  the  nether  chap  shut  over  the  upper, 
'  yet  it  was  in  such  a  manner  as  was  not  unbecoming  ; 
'  his  teeth  were  even  and  white  as  the  purest  ivory  ;  his 

*  chin  was  something  long,  and  the  mould  of  his  face  ; 
4  his  forehead  was  not  very  high  ;  his  nose  was  raised 
'  and  sharp,  but  withal  he  had  a  most  amiable  counte- 
'  nance,  which  carried  in  it  something  of  magnanimity 
4  and  majesty  mixed  with  sweetness,  that  at  the  same 

*  time  bespoke  love  and  awe  in  all  that  saw  him.' l  This 
description,  borne  out  by  his  portrait,  sets  before  us 
just  such  a  man  as  corresponds  to  the  character  he  has 
left  in  history.     Strong,  unyielding,  given  to  pursuing 
ideal  ends  and   flinging   himself  against  stone-walls  ; 
high-minded,  pure-hearted,  yet  narrow  and  utterly  in- 
capable of  viewing  a  question  from  any  standpoint  but 
his  own  ;  with  nothing  mean  about  him,  yet  curiously 

1  Memoirs  of  Colonel  Hutchinson. 


136    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

difficult  to  get  on  with,  and  apt  to  irritate  both  sub- 
ordinates and  those  who  had  to  work  with  him — none 
the  less  because  he  was  so  often  in  the  right,  and 
invariably  thought  himself  so.  His  two  strongest 
principles  were  hatred  of  '  Popery '  and  devotion  to 
his  ideal  of  a  republic,  an  ideal  for  which,  if  it  were 
ever  practicable,  the  times  were  not  ripe.  His  political 
principles  and  his  strong  antagonism  to  Cromwell  in 
later  days  hardly  belong  to  our  subject,  save  as  they 
throw  his  character  into  strong  relief.  Puritan  though 
he  was  from  his  youth  up  in  manners  and  morals,  his 
dress  was  always  very  careful  and  precise  in  the  graceful 
fashion  of  the  day,  and  he  was  a  man  of  refined  tastes 
and  many  accomplishments,  being  especially  skilled  in 
music. 

His  wife  gives  a  rather  amusing  account  of  a  few 
early  love-affairs.  She  is  so  evidently  anxious  lest  the 
reader  should  suppose  his  heart  ever  to  have  been 
seriously  touched  before  he  met  her — before  he  heard 
of  her  rather,  for  he  seems  to  have  fallen  in  love  with 
the  mere  report  of  her  virtues  and  accomplishments. 
He  had  gone  down  to  Richmond,  and  was  boarding  in 
the  house  of  his  music-master,  where,  as  her  narrative 
relates,  '  he  found  a  great  deal  of  good  young  company, 
'  and  many  ingenuous  persons  that,  by  reason  of  the 
'  court,  where  the  young  princes  were  bred,  entertained 
'  themselves  in  that  place,  and  had  frequent  resort  to 
'  the  house  where  Mr.  Hutchinson  tabled.  The  man 
'  being  a  skilful  composer  in  music,  the  rest  of  the 
i  king's  musicians  often  met  at  his  house  to  practise 
'  new  airs  and  prepare  them  for  the  king  ;  and  divers 

*  of  the  gentlemen  and  ladies  that  were  affected  with 
'  music,   came  thither  to  hear ;   others  that  were  not, 
1  took  that  pretence  to  entertain   themselves  with  the 
1  company.      Mr.   Hutchinson  was   soon   courted   into 
'  their  acquaintance,  and  invited  to  their  houses,  where 

*  he  was  nobly  treated,  with  all  the  attractive  arts  that 


SOME  WHO  CHOSE  FOR  THEMSELVES     137 

<  young  women  and  their  parents  use  to  procure  them 
4  lovers ;  but  though  some  of  them  were  very  handsome, 
'  others  wealthy,  witty,  and  well  qualified,  and  all  of 

*  them  set  out  with  all  the  gaiety  and  bravery  that  vain 
'  women  put  on  to  set  themselves  off,  yet  Mr.  Hutchinson 
'  could  not  be  entangled  in  any  of  their  fine  snares  ;  but 
1  without  any  taint  of  incivility,  he  in  such  a  way  of 
1  handsome  raillery  reproved  their  pride  and  vanity,  as 
1  made  them  ashamed  of  their  glory,  and  vexed  that  he 
1  alone,  of  all  the  young  gentlemen  that  belonged  to  the 
'  court  or  neighbourhood,  should  be  insensible  of  their 

*  charms.     In  the  same  house  with  him  there  was  a 

*  younger  daughter  of  Sir  Allen  Apsley,  late  lieutenant 
1  of  the  Tower,  tabled  for  the  practice  of  her  lute,  stay- 
'  ing  till  the  return  of  her  mother,  who  was  gone  into 
'  Wiltshire  for  the  accomplishment  of  a  treaty  that  had 

*  been  made  some  progress  in,  about  the  marriage  of 

*  her  elder  daughter  with  a  gentleman  of  that  county 

*  out  of  which  my  lady  herself  came,  and  where  her 
1  brothers,  Sir  John  St.  John  and  Sir  Edward  Hunger- 
'  ford,  living  in  great  honour  and  reputation,  had  invited 
'  her  to  visit  them.     This  gentlewoman  that  was  left  in 
1  the  house  with  Mr.  Hutchinson  was  a  very  child,  her 
1  elder  sister  at  that  time  being  scarcely  past  it ;   but 
'  a  child  of  such  pleasantness  and  vivacity  of  spirit, 
'  and  ingenuity  in  the  quality  she  practised,  that  Mr. 
'  Hutchinson   took   pleasure    in   hearing  her   practise, 
'  and  would  fall  in  discourse  with  her.      She  having 
1  the   keys  of  her  mother's  house,  some  half  a  mile 
'  distant,  would  sometimes  ask  Mr.  Hutchinson,  when 
1  she  went  over,  to  walk  along  with  her.      One  day 
4  when  he  was  there,  looking  upon  an  odd  by-shelf  in 
'  her  sister's  closet,  he  found  a  few  Latin  books  ;  and 
1  asking  whose  they  were,  he  was  told  they  were  her 
'  elder  sister's  ;   whereupon,  inquiring  more  after  her, 

'  he  began  first  to  be  sorry  she  was  gone  before  he 
1  had  seen  her,  and  gone  upon  such  an  account  that  he 


138     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

'  was  not  likely  to  see  her.  Then  he  grew  to  love  to 
'  hear  mention  of  her,  and  the  other  gentlewomen  who 
1  had  been  her  companions  used  to  talk  much  to  him  of 
'  her,  telling  him  how  reserved  and  studious  she  was, 
1  and  other  things  that  they  esteemed  no  advantage. 
1  But  it  so  inflamed  Mr.  Hutchinson's  desire  of  seeing 

*  her,   that  he  began   to  wonder  at  himself,  that  his 

*  heart,  which  had  ever  entertained  so  much  indiffer- 
6  ence  for  the  most  excellent  of  womankind,  should  have 

*  such  strong  impulses  towards  a  stranger  he  never  saw; 
'  and  certainly  it  was  of  the  Lord  (though  he  perceived 
'  it  not),    who   had   ordained   him,   through  so   many 
1  various  providences,  to  be  yoked  with  her  in  whom 
4  he  found  so   much  satisfaction.'     Many  little  things 
contributed  to  keep  up  this  fanciful  passion.     A  sonnet 
which  was  sung  one  evening  and   attributed   to  her, 
though  he  thought  '  it  had  in  it  something  of  rationality 
beyond  the  reach  of  a  she-wit ' ;   continual  talk  of  her 
unapproachableness,  and  gossip  as  to  the  result  of  the 
marriage  treaty,  all  combined  to  fan  the  flame  till  he  was 
wholly  possessed  with  the  desire  of  seeing  her.    l  While 

*  he  was  exercised  in  this  many  days  passed  not,  but 

*  a  foot-boy  of  my  lady  her  mother's  came  to  young 
'  Mrs.  Apsley  as  they  were  at  dinner,  bringing  news 
1  that  her  mother  and  sister  would  in  a  few  days  return  ; 
'  and  when  they  enquired  of  him  whether  Mrs.  Apsley 
4  was  married  ;  having  been  before  instructed  to  make 
1  them  believe  it,  he  smiled,  and  pulled  out  some  bride 

*  laces,  which  were  given  at  a  wedding  in  the  house 
4  where  she  was,  and  gave  them  to  the  young  gentle- 

*  woman  and  the  gentleman's  daughter  of  the  house, 

*  and  told  them  Mrs.  Apsley  bade  him  tell  no  news, 
'  but  give  them  these  tokens,  and  carried  the  matter  so, 

*  that  all  the  company  believed  she  had  been  married. 

<  Mr.   Hutchinson   immediately  turned   pale  as  ashes, 

<  and  felt  a  fainting  to  seize  his  spirits  in  that  extra- 
'  ordinary  manner,  that  finding  himself  ready  to  sink 


SOME  WHO  CHOSE  FOR  THEMSELVES     139 

4  at  table,  he  was  fain  to  pretend  that  something  had 
4  offended  his  stomach,  and  to  retire  from  the  table  into 
1  the  garden  ;  where  the  gentleman  of  the  house  going 
'  with  him,  it  was  not  necessary  for  him  to  feign  sick- 
4  ness,  for  the  distemper  of  his  mind  had  infected  his  body 

*  with  a  cold  sweat,  and  such  a  depression  of  spirit,  that  all 
4  the  courage  he  could  at  present  collect,  was  little  enough 
6  to  keep  him  alive.     His  host  was  very  troublesome  to 
4  him,  and  to  be  quit  of  him  he  went  to  his  chamber, 
4  saying  he  would  lie  down.     Little  did  any  of  the  com- 
1  pany  suspect  the  true  cause  of  his  sudden  qualm,  and 

*  they  were  all  so  troubled  at  it,  that  the  boy  then  passed 
4  without  further  examination.'     It  would  be  too  long  to 
relate  all  his  agitations  of  mind,  but  the  next  day  at 
supper  a  messenger  arrived  to  tell  Mrs.   Apsley  her 
mother  was  come.    *  She  would  immediately  have  gone, 
4  but  Mr.  Hutchinson  pretending  civility  to  conduct  her 

*  home,  made  her  stay  till  supper  was  ended,  of  which  he 
4  ate  no  more,  now  only  longing  for  that  sight  which 
4  he  had  with  such  perplexity  expected.     This  at  length 

*  he  obtained  ;  but  his  heart,  being  prepossessed  with 
4  his  own   fancy,  was   not  free  to   discern   how  little 

*  there  was  in  her  to  answer  so  great  an  expectation. 
4  She  was  not  ugly  in  a  careless  riding-habit,  she  had 
4  a  melancholy  negligence  both  of  herself  and  others,  as 
4  if  she  neither  affected  to  please  others,  nor  took  notice 
4  of  anything  before  her  ;  yet  in  spite  of  all  her  indiffer- 
4  ence,  she  was  surprised  with  some  unusual  liking  in 
4  her  soul  when  she  saw  this  gentleman,  who  had  eyes, 
4  hair,  shape,  and  countenance  enough  to  beget  love  in 
4  any  one  at  the  first,  and  these  set  off  with  a  graceful 
4  and  generous  mien,  which  promised  an  extraordinary 
4  person.     He  was  at  that  time,  and  indeed  always  very 
4  neatly  habited,  for  he  wore  good  and  rich  clothes,  and 
4  had  a  variety  of  them,  and  had  them  well  suited  and 
4  every  way  answerable  ;   in  that  little  thing  showing 
4  both  good  judgment  and  great  generosity,  he  equally 


140     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

4  becoming  them  and  they  him,  which  he  wore  with 
(  such  equal  unaffectedness  and  such  neatness  as  we  do 
'  not  often  meet  in  one. 

1  Although  he  had  but  an  evening  sight  of  her  he  had 

*  so  long  desired,  and  that  at  disadvantage  enough  for 
1  her  ;   yet  the  prevailing   sympathy  of  his  soul  made 
'  him  think  all  his  pains  well  paid,  and  this  first  did 
i  whet  his  desire  of  a  second  sight,  which  he  had  by 
'  accident  the  next  day,  and  to  his  joy  found  she  was 

*  wholly  disengaged  from  that  treaty,  which  he  had  so 
1  much  feared  had  been  accomplished  ;  he  found  withal, 

*  that  though   she    was    modest,    she  was   accostable, 

*  and   willing    to   entertain    his   acquaintance.       This 
'  soon  passed  into  a  mutual  friendship  between  them, 
'  and  though  she  innocently  thought  nothing  of  love, 
'  yet  was  she   glad   to   have   acquired   such   a  friend, 
<  who  had  wisdom   and  virtue   enough  to  be  trusted 
'  with   her  councils,  for  she  was  then  much  perplexed 
'  in  mind.' 

The  story  as  it  goes  on  is  rather  too  lengthy  to  be 
narrated  in  her  own  words.  As  may  be  supposed,  these 
confidences  of  hers,  as  to  whether  it  was  her  duty  to 

*  bring  her  heart  to  her  mother's  desire,'  soon  led  him 
to  declare  himself  to  her.     She  relates  how  'he  daily 
'  frequented  her  mother's  house,  and  had  the  oppor- 
(  tunity  of  conversing  with  her  in  those  pleasant  walks, 
4  which  at  that  sweet  season  of  spring,  invited  all  the 
'  neighbouring  inhabitants  to  seek  their  joys ;  where, 
1  though  they  were  never  alone,  yet  they  had  every  day 

*  opportunity  for  converse  with  each  other,  which  the 
4  rest  shared  not  in,  while  every  one  minded  their  own 
'  delights.'      After  a  few  attempts  at  mischief-making 
from  jealous  neighbours,  all  ended  happily,  though  on 
the  very  eve  of  the  wedding  a  great  calamity  befell,  for, 
like  poor  Dorothy  Osborne,  the  bride  sickened  of  the 
smallpox,  and,  after  being  in  hazard  of  her  life,  was 
for    long    much    disfigured.       'Yet    he   was    nothing 


SOME  WHO  CHOSE  FOR  THEMSELVES     141 

<  troubled  at  it,  but  married  her  as  soon  as  she  was  able 

<  to  quit  her  chamber,  when  the  priest  and  all  that  saw 
6  her  were  affrighted  to  look  on  her  ;  but  God  recom- 
'  pensed   His  justice  and  constancy  by  restoring  her, 
*  though    she  was    longer    than   ordinary  before   she 
i  recovered  to  be  as  well  as  before.' 

Sons  were  hardly  less  at  the  will  of  their  fathers  than 
daughters,  as  we  have  seen  in  the  Earl  of  Cork's  family. 
Even  Lucius  Cary,  who  at  nineteen,  endowed  with  his 
grandfather's  wealth,  was  in  an  unusually  independent 
position,  found  it  difficult  to  assert  his  right  to  choose 
for  himself.  Lord  Falkland,  like  every  other  Lord- 
Deputy  of  Ireland,  found  himself  at  the  close  of  his 
term  of  office  involved  in  a  hopeless  maze  of  debt.  He 
had  probably  counted  on  his  wife's  inheritance,  but 
since  she  had  offended  her  father,  as  well  as  her 
husband,  by  becoming  a  Roman  Catholic,  Sir  Lawrence 
passed  her  over  and  had  settled  all  his  property  on  his 
eldest  grandson.  This  made  Lucius  a  very  good  match, 
and  his  father  thought  to  repair  his  own  broken  fortunes 
by  means  of  a  wealthy  marriage  for  his  son.  Lucius, 
however,  had  already  chosen  for  himself :  he  had  fallen 
in  love  with  lovely  Lettice  Morrison,  the  sister  of  his 
great  friend  Sir  Henry  Morrison,  who,  though  well 
connected,  and  by  no  means  unsuitable,  was  of  small 
fortune.  Lord  Falkland  stormed  in  vain.  The  son  had 
much  of  his  mother's  character :  not  only  her  quick 
brain  and  inquiring  mind  had  descended  to  him,  but 
also  her  warm  heart,  her  loyalty,  and  her  impulsiveness. 
Nothing  would  make  him  false  to  his  love ;  but  when 
the  marriage  was  concluded  he  went  to  his  father,  and 
offered  him  as  a  free  gift  the  title-deeds  of  his  two 
estates  of  Burford  Priory  and  Great  Tew,  and  no  doubt 
Lettice's  unworldliness  consented,  if  she  did  not  suggest 
the  offer.  This,  in  common  decency,  the  old  lord  could 
not  accept,  nor  would  he  for  long  be  reconciled.  He 
hated  to  be  thwarted,  and  he  detested  his  daughter-in- 


142     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

law's   piety,  and  Lucius  thought  it  wise  to  spend  the 
first  few  years  of  his  married  life  abroad.1 

The  first  marriage  of  his  great  friend,  Edward  Hyde, 
was  also  a  love-match,  though,  in  his  case,  with  his 
father's  consent  and  approbation.2  His  brief  mention 
of  his  wife  speaks  of  her  as  a  young  lady  very  fair  and 
beautiful,  the  '  daughter  of  Sir  John  Ayliffe,  a  gentleman 

*  of  a  good  Name  and  Fortune  in  the  County  of  Wilts, 

*  where  his  own  expectations  lay,  and  by  her  Mother 

*  (a  St.  John)  nearly  allied  to  many  noble  families  in 

*  England.     He  enjoyed  this  Comfort  and  Composure 

<  of  Mind  a  very  short  Time,  for  within  six  Months 
'  after   He  was   married,   being  upon   the  Way  from 
'  London  towards  his  Father's  House,  she  fell  sick  at 
4  Reading,  and   being   removed  to  a  Friend's  House 

*  near  that  Town,  the  small  Pox  declared  themselves, 

*  and  (she  being  with   Child)  forced  her  to  miscarry  ; 

*  and  she  died  within  two  Days.      He  bore  her  Loss 

*  with  so  great  Passion  and  Confusion  of  Spirit  that  it 

*  shook  all  the  Frame  of  his  Resolutions,  and  nothing 
4  but  his  entire  Duty  and  Reverence  to  his  Father  kept 

<  him   from   giving  over  all   Thoughts  of  Books  and 
'  transporting  himself  beyond  the  Seas  to  enjoy  his  own 
1  Melancholy  ;  nor  could  any  Persuasion  or  Importunity 

<  of  his  Friends   prevail  with   him   in   some  years  to 
'  think  of  another  Marriage.' 

He  did  eventually  marry  again,  suitably  and  to  his 
contentment,  but  no  woman  henceforth  was  ever  so  dear 
to  him  as  his  friend.  The  home  he  cared  for  was 
Great  Tew,  and  here  he  found  his  chief  pleasure  till  the 
cruel  vortex  of  politics  swallowed  up  both  friends :  one 
was  taken  and  the  other  left. 

1  Falkland*,  by  the  author  of  Sir  Kenelm  Digby.  2  Clarendon's  Life. 


CHAPTER    X 

ROMANCE 

THE  reader  will  perhaps  not  have  forgotten  the  pretty, 
childish  love-makings  between  the  small  Kenelm  Digby 
and  his  little  play-fellow.  As  sometimes  happens  with 
such  seedling  loves,  the  roots  continued  to  live  and  grow 
in  the  hearts  of  both  through  the  darkness  of  separation, 
till  at  length  when  they  met  again,  after  the  lapse  of 
several  years,  it  shot  up  into  a  full-blown  romance, 
which  has  been  related  at  length  by  the  pen  of  one  of 
the  lovers  ;  and  if  it  is  not  possible  always  to  take  every 
detail  quite  literally,  remembering  that  both  were  of  that 
order  that  sees  its  own  adventures  and  experiences  in 
4  the  light  that  never  was  on  sea  or  land,'  yet  there  is 
no  reason  to  doubt  that  the  story  is  in  its  main  outlines 
true. 

They  both  must  have  been  very  striking  young 
people.  Kenelm,  stately  and  well-made,  bearing  him- 
self with  dignity  and  grace  despite  his  unusual  height 
of  six  feet  four,  handsome,  with  dark  curling  hair  and 
dark  eyes,  and  dressed  with  *  curious  niceness ' ;  with 
a  reputation  for  wit  and  learning  that  won  him  the  title 
of  the  Mirandula  of  his  age,  and  the  courtly  manners 
he  had  learned  in  Spain,  was  certainly  a  gallant  fitted 
to  turn  the  head  of  any  girl ;  and  when  to  these 
advantages  was  added  the  memory  of  their  childish 
games  together,  of  their  little  confidences  and  caresses 
—remembrances  in  common  that  no  one  else  shared — 

143 


144    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

it  was  inevitable  that  he  should  hold  a  place  apart  in 
her  thoughts. 

This  is  Aubrey's  description  of  her :  *  She  had  a 
'  most  lovely  sweet-turned  face,  delicate  darke  browne 

*  haire.    She  had  a  perfect  healthy  constitution  ;  strong ; 
1  good  skin  ;   well  proportioned  ;   enclining  to  a  Bona 

*  Roba.      Her  face,  a  short  ovall ;   dark  browne  eie- 
1  browe,  about  wch   much   sweetness,  as  also   in   the 
'  opening  of  her  eie-lidds.     The  colour  of  her  cheekes 
4  was  just  that  of  the  Denmarke  rose  which  is  neither 
'  too  hot  nor  too  pale.     She  was  of  a  just  stature,  not 
'  very  tall.'1     His  is  not  usually  a  flattering  pen,  but 
the   many  portraits  of  her,  especially  the  well-known 
one  by  Vandyck,  fully  bear  out  his  description  of  her 
oval   face  and  delicately  pencilled  eyebrows,  with  the 
added  charm  of  a  very  lovely  countenance.     '  The  most 
beautiful  woman  of  her  time,'  her  enthusiastic   lover 
calls  her,  and  we  can  well  believe  him,  even  in  a  day 
when  beautiful  women  were  not  rare.2 

Venetia  was  motherless,  and  her  father  having  at 
the  first  given  himself  up  to  a  retired  life  to  indulge 
his  *  melancholic  fancies '  on  the  loss  of  his  young  wife, 
had  suffered  a  confirmed  habit  of  solitude  to  grow  upon 
him,  and  let  his  pretty  daughter  divert  herself  at  her 
own  sweet  will.  She  had,  it  is  true,  a  species  of 
duenna  or  waiting  gentlewoman  who  was  supposed  to 
be  her  chaperon,  but  this  ancient  gentlewoman  was 
more  giddy  than  her  charge,  and  seems  to  have  acted 
decoy  rather  than  watch-dog.  The  young  lady  went 
into  society  very  early,  and  amused  herself  pretty  much 
as  she  pleased.  There  does  not  seem  to  have  been  any 
kinswoman  or  old  friend  to  take  the  motherless  beauty 
under  her  wing. 

At  her  first  court  ball,  pretty  and  striking  as  she 
was,  she  naturally  attracted  a  good  deal  of  attention, 
the  young  noblemen  swarming  round  her,  and  paying 

1  Eminent  Persons.  2  Life  of  Sir  Kenelm  Digby. 


ROMANCE  145 

her  extravagant  compliments  in  the  euphuistic  vein  not 
yet  gone  out  of  fashion  ;  for  this,  it  may  be  observed, 
was  in  the  reign  of  King  James,  when  the  fashions  of 
Elizabeth's  day  were  waning  but  had  not  yet  made 
way  for  the  severer  taste  of  Charles's  court.  Some  of 
these  flowery  compliments  are  recorded  at  length  in  Sir 
Kenelm's  private  memoirs,  and  are  in  curious  contrast 
to  the  extreme  simplicity  of  diction  that  ruled  a  very 
few  years  later.  She  danced  the  corrente  or  coranto, 
the  then  fashionable  dance,  so  admirably  that,  when 
the  dancers  '  had  seen  how  skilfully  she  kept  time  with 
'  her  feet  to  the  music's  sound,  she  was  suffered  no 
4  more  to  return  to  her  former  seat.'  Wearied  out  as 
she  was  when  she  returned  from  the  ball,  girl-like  she 
eagerly  recounted  her  triumphs  to  her  duenna.  That 
untrustworthy  old  lady  had  been  won  over  to  the 
interests  of  the  gentleman  who  had  addressed  such 
flowery  compliments  to  Venetia,  and  could  only  regret 
that  she  had  given  'so  cold  an  entertainment  to  the 
respects  of  so  noble  and  deserving  a  gentleman.' 
Venetia,  however,  was  loyal  to  the  memory  of  her  old 
playmate,  and  her  gentlewoman  in  vain  reminded  her 
of  his  poverty  and  the  stain  on  his  name.  Finding 
remonstrance  useless,  she  laid  a  cunning  plot  in  the 
interests  of  her  client.  She  came  one  day  to  her  mistress, 
and  with  feigned  joy  told  her  that  heaven  was  gracious 
to  her  desires  :  Kenelm  had  returned  to  England,  and 
prayed  his  old  love  to  grant  him  a  meeting  about 
sunset  in  a  park  some  three  miles  out  of  the  city — 
probably  Hyde  Park.  Discretion  was  not  Venetia's 
strong  point.  She  eagerly  acceded,  and  her  gentle- 
woman having  suggested  that  to  avoid  notice  it  would 
be  better  to  have  a  hired  carriage  at  the  back  door  of 
1  the  garden  instead  of  using  her  own,  fell  easily  into 
the  plot,  and  wishing  to  have  her  first  meeting  with 
Kenelm  in  private,  set  out  alone,  without  even  the 
protection  of  the  old  governess. 

K 


146    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

<  She  was  scarce  gone  halfway  to  the  appointed  place, 

*  when   five  or  six   horsemen  well  mounted,  overtook 
1  the  coach.     They  summoned  the  driver  to  stop,   an 

*  order  which  he  obeyed  with  suspicious  alacrity.     Then 
'  two  of  the  horsemen  alighting,  came  into  the  coach, 
'  and   drawing    their   poignards,    threatened   her  with 
'  death  if  she  cried  out  or  made  any  noise  ;  assuring 

*  her  withal,  that  from   them   she   should   receive   no 
'  violence   if  she   would   sit  quietly  ;  and   therewithal 
1  drew  the  curtains  that  none  might  see  who  was  in 

*  the  coach  as  they  passed  by.' 

On  they  went  through  the  darkness  hour  after  hour, 
and  Venetia,  '  in  an  abyss  of  sorrow,  and  fearing  the 
'  worst  that  might  happen  to  an  undefended  maid  that 

*  was  fallen  into  rude  hands,  had   begun  to  think  the 
'  night  would  never  end,  when  she   fancied  she   per- 
'  ceived  a  faint  glimmer  of  dawn.     Just  then  they  came 
i  to  a  house  and  drew  up  at  the  door.      Venetia  was 

*  helped   out  of   the    carriage  with   a   great   show  of 
'  civility,  and  on  entering,  was  received  in  the  hall  by 
'  an    old    housekeeper,    who,    entertaining    her    with 

*  comfortable  speeches,  and  the  assurance  of  all  service 

*  intended  to  her,  which  she  should  quickly  perceive  to 

*  be  true,  brought  her   into   a  very  handsome   room, 
1  remarking  that  after   so   tedious  and  troublesome  a 
1  night  as  of  necessity  she  must  have  passed,  it  would 
'  be  better  leave  her  a  little  while  to  herself.' 

Overcome  with  weariness,  she  slept  for  some  hours 
till  roused  by  a  step  that  stumbled  on  entering.  She 
started  up,  and  drawing  back  the  curtain  recognised 
to  her  horror  the  gentleman  who  had  made  himself 
so  obnoxious  by  his  compliments  at  the  ball.  Kneel- 
ing by  her  side,  after  a  long  pause  he  addressed 
her,  and  declared  the  passion  which  had  led  him  to 
carry  her  off ;  but  Venetia  received  his  confession  with 
vehement  indignation,  declaring  her  determination  to 
commit  suicide  rather  than  submit,  and  adding,  '  My 


ROMANCE  147 

'  injured  ghost  shall  be  a  perpetual  terror  to  your  guilty 

*  soul,  which  I  will  so  pursue,  that  I  will  make  you 
'  fly  to   hell  to  save  you  from   my   more   tormenting 
'  vengeance.'     He  then  tried  another  line,  professing 
so  much  concern  to  see  *  how  negligent  her  father  was 
'  of  her,   that  left  her  so  young  and  in  the  tuition  of 
4  so  false  a  servant,   to  live  by  herself  in  a  dissolute 
4  age.'     So  he  had  enticed  her  to  his  house  to  afford 
her  a  haven  of  refuge  from  the  wicked  gallants  of  the 
court.      This   did    not   impose    on    Venetia,    but    she 
thought  it  wise  to  temporise,  and  the  old  housekeeper, 
'  none  else  being  suffered  to  attend  them,'  now  brought 
in  supper.     *  When  it  was  over,  her  host  taking  her 
1  by  the  hand,  led  her  down  the  stairs  into  the  garden 
'  that  her  chamber  window  looked  into,  all  the  several 
'  parts  of  which  she  narrowly  observed. 

1  At  length,  the  sun  setting  and  a  gummy  dew  be- 
'  ginning  to  fall,  he  asked  her  if  she  was  not  tired  with 
'  walking,  which  intimation  of  retiring  she  taking  hold 
'  of,  they  returned  again  to  the  house,  and  her  host 
1  took  his  leave  and  wished  her  a  quiet  and  happy 
'  night,  commanding  the  old  woman  to  attend  dili- 
1  gently  upon  her.  This  confidential  servant  then 

*  helped  her  to  bed,  and  retired  herself  into  an  inner 
'  chamber.'     After  giving  way  for  a  little  while  to  tears 
and  lamentations,  Venetia  began  to  consider  with  her- 
self how  she  might  escape. 

'  When  walking  with  him  she  had  observed  how, 
'  in  one  corner  of  the  garden,  there  was  an  arbour 
'  seated  upon  a  mount  which  overlooked  the  wall,  and 
1  by  that  place  she  deemed  that  she  might  most  fitly 
'  take  her  flight.  Wherefore,  when  by  her  loud  snor- 
'  ing  she  perceived  that  her  guardian  was  fast  asleep, 

*  she  rose  with  as  little  noise  as  she  could,  and,  tying 
'  her  sheets  together,  made  one  of  them  fast  to  a  bar  in 

*  the  window,  and  by  that  let  herself  down  so  gently 
'  that  she  came  to  touch  the  ground  without  any  hurt, 


148     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

*  and  then  going  straight  to  the  arbour,  she  got  down 
1  the  wall  by  making  use  of  her  garters,  as  before  she 
4  had  done  of  her  sheets  ;  and  then  finding  herself  at 
4  liberty   in    the    park,    she    directed    her    course   one 

*  certain  way  until  she  came  to  the  pales,  which  with 
6  some    difficulty    she    climbed    over ;    and    then    she 
4  wandered  about  large  fields  and  horrid  woods,  with- 
4  out  meeting  any  highway  or  sign  of  habitation. 

4  On  and  on  she  walked,  she  knew  not  whither,  all 
4  through  the  long  night,  until  as  the  morning  was  be- 

*  ginning  to  break,  thinking  herself  far  enough  from  the 

*  house  of  her  late  captor,  she  sat  down  to  take  some  rest. 
4  It  was  a  desolate  spot,  but  she  was  wearied  out,  and 
4  felt  as  if  she  could  no  longer  either  walk  or  keep  her 

*  eyes  open.     Just  as  she  was  on  the  point  of  dropping 

*  off  to  sleep,   a  hungry  wolf  came  rushing  out  of  a 

*  wood  close  by,  and  perceiving  her  by  the  increasing 

*  twilight,  ran  at  her  with  open  mouth.     Venetia  ran 
4  away  ;    the  wolf  ran  after  her.      Naturally  the   wolf 
4  ran   faster  and   soon   seized   hold   of  her  dress   and 
4  pulled  her  down. 

4  Fortunately  her  screams  were  heard  by  a  young 
4  sportsman  who  had  been  out  all  night  endeavouring 
4  to  harbour  a  stag  in  the  wood.  Running  in  the  direc- 
4  tion  of  the  sounds  of  distress  he  caught  sight  of  her 
4  almost  immediately  after  she  had  fallen  ;  whereupon 
4  he  blew  his  horn,  and  the  wolf,  being  frightened,  ran 
4  off,  though  too  late  to  save  his  life,  as  the  young 
4  hunter's  servants  came  up  with  strong  and  swift  dogs, 
4  which  caught  the  wolf  and  quickly  made  an  end  of 
4  the  unhappy  beast.' 

Almost  dead  with  fear  as  she  was,  and  torn  in  some 
places  by  the  wolfs  teeth,  she  rested  upon  a  green 
bank  and  related  her  adventures  to  her  deliverer,  who 
in  spite  of  her  pallor  and  bloodstained  condition  was 
rapt  in  admiration  of  her  beauty.  By  one  of  those 
wonderful  strokes  of  luck  that  happen  more  often  in 


ROMANCE  149 

romance  than  in  real  life,  she  then  discovered  that  a 
house,  the  turrets  of  which  she  could  see  through  the 
trees,  belonged  to  a  kinswoman  of  her  own,  who 
figures  in  the  memoirs  as  '  Lady  Artesia.'  To  this 
house  the  servants  of  Sir  Edward  Sackville,  who  is 
dubbed  '  Mardontius,'  conducted  her,  and  for  the 
moment  her  troubles  were  over.  Her  kinswoman  re- 
ceived her  very  kindly,  and  presently  it  appeared  that 
Lady  Digby,  the  mother  of  Sir  Kenelm,  was  a  great 
friend  of  hers  and  was  expected  within  three  days  on 
a  visit. 

One  evening  as  they  walked  together  in  the  garden 
they  became  very  confidential  on  the  subject  of  Lady 
Digby  and  her  sons,  and  Lady  Artesia,  after  gratify- 
ing Venetia  with  Kenelm's  praises,  dashed  her  to  the 
ground  by  informing  her  that  both  his  mother's  heart 
and  her  own  were  set  on  a  match  between  him  and 
her  grandchild,  a  young  lady  of  great  beauty  and 
fortune.  Venetia  nearly  fainted  away  on  hearing  this 
news,  but  was  somewhat  revived  on  being  told  that 
the  only  difficulty  was  the  '  backwardness  of  Kenelm, 

*  of  which  his  mother  one  day  complaining  to  me,  told 
'  me  what  an  answer  he  had  made  to  her  a  little  before, 

*  as  she  had  solicited  him  to  condescend  to  her  just 

*  desire,  it  being  so  much  to  his  advantage.     "  Madam," 

*  quoth  he,    "marriage  cannot  well  be   performed  by 
4  "attorney.       Besides,    to    have    it    complete    in    all 
'  "  respects,    the    first    motives    of    it    should    not   be 
'  "  sordid  wealth  or  other  convenience,   but  a   divine 

*  "affection.      And   I    must  confess   that,    although    I 

*  "  know   this    gentlewoman    do    every    way    deserve 
4  "better  fortune  than  I  can  bring  her,  I  feel  not  yet 

*  "this  flame  in  me  towards  her  which  is  indeed  only 

*  "a  gift  of  heaven.     Therefore,  as  long  as  the  weak- 
'  "  ness  of  our  estate  obligeth  you  not  to  sell  me  to 
'  "  repair  that,  I  beseech  you  give  me  leave  to  look 

*  "  a  little  while  about  me,  and  to  please  myself  awhile 


150    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

'  "  with  flying  abroad  before  I  be  put  into  the 
<  "mewe."' 

Soon  Sir  Kenelm  and  his  mother  arrived,  but 
Venetia,  on  her  guard,  took  care  to  '  disguise  her 
affections,'  though,  as  he  says,  'it  almost  smothered 
'  their  hearts.  One  day  as  she  had  by  accident  let 
'  her  glove  fall,  he  took  it  up,  and  having  a  letter 
1  written  in  his  hand,  which  he  had  written  a  day 
'  before  and  awaited  an  opportunity  of  delivering  it, 
'  did  thrust  it  into  the  glove,  and  kissing  it,  gave 
4  her,  who  putting  her  hand  into  it  to  pull  it  on,  felt 
1  a  paper  there,  which,  conceiving  how  it  came  in,  she 
1  kept  safe  till  night,  and  when  she  was  in  bed  read 
'  it  by  the  help  of  the  watch-light  that  was  burning 
'  by  her :  and  being  thereby  instructed  how  she  should 
*  govern  herself  when  the  occasion  was  presented  to 
'  procure  a  fit  and  secure  meeting,  sleep  stole  upon 
'  her  as  she  was  entertaining  her  pleased  thoughts 
4  with  the  hope  of  that  blessed  hour.' 

Next  day  gave  the  lovers  the  wished-for  opportunity. 
All  the  company  were  invited  to  a  stag-hunt,  and  the 
two  lingering  a  little  behind  the  rest,  alighted  in  a 
thicket  where  they  sat  down  to  discuss  the  situation. 
Kenelm  explained  how  urgent  his  mother  was  that 
he  should  fall  in  with  her  views,  and  being  evidently 
much  in  awe  of  her,  said  the  only  plan  was  to 
compromise  and  get  her  to  consent  to  his  going  abroad 
for  a  year  or  two.  But  he  and  Venetia  exchanged 
vows  of  constancy :  he  gave  her  a  diamond  ring,  and 
she  cut  off  a  lock  of  her  beautiful  hair  for  him  which 
he  bound  round  his  arm,  and  so  they  parted. 

The  story  of  his  life  in  Paris,  of  the  masques  and 
pageants  in  which  he  took  part,  of  the  extraordinary 
passion  which  he  declared  the  elderly  Queen,  Marie 
de  Medici,  conceived  for  him,  would  lead  us  too  far 
afield  ;  but  the  latter  adventure  bears  upon  Venetia's 
story,  for  to  escape  from  a  difficult  and  dangerous 


ROMANCE  151 

situation  Kenelm  took  advantage  of  a  sudden  out- 
break of  fighting  in  the  streets  of  Pont  de  Ce  to  make 
it  appear  that  he  was  dead,  while  he  slipped  off  to 
Florence  and  disported  himself  in  the  gay  court  of 
the  Grand  Duke  Cosmo.  Meanwhile,  Sir  Edward 
Sackville,  the  rescuer  from  the  wolf,  had  followed  up 
his  advantage  and  was  paying  Venetia  the  most 
devoted  attention.  Her  heart  was  with  her  absent 
lover,  and  she  would  have  nothing  to  say  to  him, 
which  only  increased  his  ardour.  Even  when  the  news 
of  Sir  Kenelm's  death  reached  England,  she  turned 
a  deaf  ear  and  gave  herself  up  to  her  grief.  Sir 
Edward,  however,  would  not  be  rebuffed  ;  but,  *  like 
4  one  cunning  in  the  nature  and  qualities  of  passions 

<  would  not  bluntly  oppose  her  sorrow,   but  appeared 
'  to  bear  a  part  with  her  in  her  grief  till  he  had  got 
'  so   much  credit  with  her,   and  insensibly  won  such 

<  an  inclination  in  her  to  like  what  he  said  and  did, 
'  that  at   length    she    took   delight    in    his    company, 
'  although  she  desired  him  to  content  himself,  and  to 
1  seek  no  further  from  her,  for  that,  ever  since  Kenelm's 

<  death,  her  heart  was  also  dead  to  all  passionate  affec- 
'  tions.' 

His  portraits  show  him  to  have  been  not  unlike  Sir 
Kenelm  in  countenance  and  build,  though  a  smaller 
man,  and  this  may  have  had  some  influence  with  her. 
Insensibly  they  glided  into  a  kind  of  brother-and- 
sisterly  intimacy  which  a  censorious  world  could  not 
tolerate.  Always  imprudent,  Venetia  allowed  him  a 
good  deal  of  freedom  in  visiting  her,  and  rumours 
were  soon  afloat  which  made  her  friends  urge  her  to 
consent  to  an  engagement — the  more  as  Sir  Edward  was 
heir  to  his  brother  the  Earl  of  Dorset — and,  frightened 
at  the  scandal  she  had  brought  upon  her  name,  she 
consented. 

Kenelm  meanwhile  had  written  from  Florence  to 
assure  her  of  his  safety,  had  written  again  and  again, 


152     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

but  his  letters  being  intercepted,  probably  by  his 
mother's  management,  he  received  no  answers  and 
therefore  easily  credited  the  story  which  a  young 
Englishman  brought  of  Venetia's  intimacy  with  Sir 
Edward  Sackville,  and  in  a  fury  of  wounded  affection 
tore  the  lock  of  her  hair  from  his  arm  and  threw  it 
in  the  fire.  He  extended  his  travels  into  Spain  and 
tried  to  forget  his  false  love,  but  as  his  anger  cooled 
his  faith  in  Venetia  returned,  and  was  much  fortified 
by  a  singular  vision  he  had  or  fancied  when  a 

*  Brachman   of  India,'  whom   he  encountered  on   his 
travels,  by  some  mysterious  incantations  brought  before 
him  a  vision  of  Venetia  in  such  a  manner  as  to  con- 
vince him  of  her  innocence. 

At  length,  in  December  1623,  he  arrived  in  London, 
having  newly  returned  from  Spain.  To  quote  his  own 
words :  '  The  sun  shined  out  more  comfortable  and 
'  glorious  than  it  had  done  of  many  days  before,  which 
'  was  the  reason  that  many  persons  of  quality  came 
4  out  into  the  fields  to  refresh  their  spirits  with  sucking 
'  in  the  free  and  warm  air.J  As  he  entered  the  gates 
of  the  city,  in  one  of  the  carriages  that  passed  him  he 
recognised  Venetia  Stanley.  He  felt  '  like  one  come 

*  suddenly  from   a   dark   prison  to   too  great  a  light. 

*  After  so  long  absence  her  beauty  seemed  brighter  to 
4  him  than  when  he  left  her.'      She  was  sitting  pen- 
sively at  one  side  of  the  coach  by  herself,  and  had 
passed  before  he  had  recovered  from  his  emotion  or 
could  stop  her,  but  he  sent  a  servant  to  her  house  to 
ask  leave  to  call  on  the  following  day.     He  had  found 
Venetia  again,   and   found   her   free,    for   Sir   Edward 
Sackville,  who  was  one  of  those  who  only  care  for  a 
prize  while  it  is  difficult  of  attainment,  no  sooner  found 
himself  safely  engaged  to  the  object  of  his  affections, 
than  he  cooled  off  and  amused  himself  with  some  rustic 
beauty  whom  he  encountered  while  in  the  country  pre- 
paring his  house  for  his  marriage.     Venetia,  hearing  of 


ROMANCE  153 

his  behaviour,  '  sequestered  herself  from  him,'  and  very 
soon  put  an  end  to  the  engagement,  in  which  her  heart 
had  never  been.  The  lovers  thus  reunited  did  not,  how- 
ever, throw  themselves  into  each  other's  arms :  much 
had  to  be  explained,  many  misunderstandings  to  be 
cleared  up,  but  at  last  the  coolness  melted  and  Venetia 
allowed  herself  to  be  persuaded  to  a  private  marriage, 
Kenelm's  mother  still  continuing  obdurate.  Nothing 
could  have  been  more  unwise  or  more  seriously  com- 
promising to  Venetia's  reputation:  she  had  already  been 
evil  spoken  of,  and  very  likely  the  fear  of  the  king's 
objection  to  the  match  was  what  withheld  Kenelm 
from  acknowledging  it.  But  it  showed  the  selfish  and 
shallow  nature  of  the  man.  Had  he  announced  his 
marriage  boldly,  and  presented  her  to  the  world  as 
his  wife,  calumny  would  in  all  probability  have  soon 
been  silenced.  As  it  was,  Charles,  whose  severity  in  all 
questions  of  morals  was  well  known,  never  suffered 
her  to  be  received  at  court,  and  an  undeserved  slur 
always  rested  on  her  name.  It  would  have  been  better 
dispelled  by  giving  her  her  true  position  than  by  the 
emblematic  portrait  which  her  husband  had  painted 
by  Vandyck,  in  which  she  was  represented  with  her 
hand  resting  on  a  white  dove,  treading  the  serpents 
of  calumny  under  her  feet.  During  her  engagement 
to  Sir  Edward  Sackville,  she  had  given  him  her  picture 
and  she  refused  to  marry  until  this  was  restored.  Sir 
Kenelm  sent  his  rival  a  challenge  on  the  subject,  but 
he  refused  to  fight,  and  returned  the  picture  with  such 
assurances  as  quieted  any  lingering  suspicions  of  her 
innocence.  Aubrey,  who  was  gossip  incarnate,  and 
always  leans  to  the  lowest  view  of  human  nature,  does 
not  give  her  the  benefit  of  any  doubt,  but  the  biographer 
of  Sir  Kenelm  places  her  innocence  in  a  very  credible 
light,  and  it  seems  with  reason.  Heedless  and  indis- 
creet to  a  degree  she  certainly  had  been  ;  but  the  one 
who  had  the  best  title  to  judge  of  her  had  entire  faith 


154    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

in  her,  and  when  she  died  remained  her  inconsolable 
mourner.  For  Aubrey  was  wrong  about  her  perfect 
health  and  strong  constitution.  Within  a  very  few  years 
of  her  marriage  she  fell  a  victim  to  consumption,  and 
died  while  quite  a  young  woman.  The  fashion  of  that 
day  was  for  elegiac  verses  instead  of  memorial  wreaths, 
and  Venetia's  coffin  might  have  been  almost  hidden 
under  the  number  which  her  own  charms  or  the 
celebrity  of  her  husband  called  forth.  Ben  Jonson, 
Habington,  and  Aurelian  Townsend,  with  a  host  of 
others,  sent  their  tribute  to  her  virtues,  but  her  memory 
is  best  enshrined  in  the  curiously  circumstantial 
private  memoirs  in  which  her  husband  related  her  story 
and  his  own. 

This  sketch,  necessarily  much  condensed,  is  taken 
from  the  Life  of  Sir  Kenelm  Digby,  and  in  some 
passages  given  in  his  own  words  as  there  quoted 
from  the  memoirs.  It  is  quaintly  characteristic  both 
of  the  individuals  and  of  the  time,  with  its  extremely 
natural  touches  and  its  atmosphere  of  melodrama,  and 
suggests  a  world  growing  already  old  when  the  seven- 
teenth century  was  young. 


CHAPTER   XI 

THE  LOVE-STORY  OF  ANNE  MURRAY 

THE  love-affairs  of  Anne  Murray,  which  have  also 
come  down  to  us  related  in  detail  by  the  pen  of  one  of 
the  two  concerned,  form  a  very  interesting  chapter  in 
the  annals  of  the  time.  She  was,  as  will  be  remem- 
bered, the  daughter  of  Mr.  Thomas  Murray,  tutor  to 
the  royal  princes,  and  after  his  death  lived  with  her 
widowed  mother  in  St.  Martin's  Lane,  she  being  the 
youngest  of  several  brothers  and  sisters.  Mrs.  Murray, 
whose  careful  bringing-up  of  her  daughters  has  already 
been  mentioned,  seems  to  have  been  a  lady  of  consider- 
able severity,  but  Anne  always  speaks  of  her  with  great 
respect  and  affection.1 

She  relates  her  own  story  with  a  soberness  and 
simplicity  which  are  very  engaging,  and  does  not 
indulge  in  any  of  that  heightening  of  effect  in  which 
Sir  Kenelm  Digby  delighted.  Her  English  is  very 
pure,  and  her  spelling  for  that  day  remarkably  good, 
following  a  consistent  rule,  which  was  at  that  date 
unusual.  The  keynote  of  her  character,  at  once  dutiful 
and  independent,  may  be  gathered  from  a  passage  in 
which  she  sketches  her  custom  as  to  amusements  : — 

'As  long  as  shee  [her  mother]  lived,  I  do  nott  re- 
*  member  that  I  made  a  visitt  to  ye  nearest  neighbour 
4  or  wentt  anywhere  without  her  libertye.  And  so 
'  scrupulous  was  I  of  giving  any  occation  to  speake  of 

1   The  Autobiography  of  Anne,  Lady  Halkett.     Camden  Society. 

155 


156     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

'  mee  as  I  know  they  did  of  others,  that  though  I  loved 

*  well  to  see  plays  and  to  walke  in  the  Spring  Garden 

*  sometimes  (before  it  grew  something  scandalous  by 

*  the  abuse  of  som)  yett  I  cannot  remember  3  times  that 
'  ever  I  wentt  with  any  man  besides  my  brothers  ;  and 
1  if  I  did,  my  sisters  or  others  better  than  myselfe  was 

*  with  mee.     And  I  was  the  first  that  proposed  and 

*  practised  itt  for  3  or  4  of  us  going  together  withoutt 
4  any  man,  and  every  one  paying  for  themselves  by 

*  giving  the  mony  to  the  footman  who  waited  on  us, 
'  and  hee  gave  itt  in  the  play-howse.     And  this  I  did 

*  first  upon  hearing  some  gentlemen  telling  what  ladys 

*  they  had  waited  on  to  plays,  and  how  much  itt  had 

*  cost  them  ;    upon  which  I  resolved  none  should  say 
'  the  same  of  mee. 

'  In  the  year  1644  I  confese  I  was  guilty  of  an  act  of 

*  disobedience,  for  I  gave  way  to  ye  adrese  of  a  person 

*  whom  my  mother,  att  the  first  time  that  ever  hee  had 
'  occation  to  bee  conversant  with  mee,  had  absolutely 
'  discharged  me  ever  to  allow  of :   And  though  before 

*  ever  I  saw  him  severalls  did  tell  mee  that  there  would 
'  bee  something  more  than  ordinary  betwixt  him  and 
'  mee  (wch  I  believe  they  fudged  from  the  great  friend- 

*  ship  betwixt  his  sister  and  mee,  for  wee  were  seldom 

*  assunder  att  London,  and  shee  and  I  were  bedfellows 
<  when   shee  came  to  my  sister's  house  at  Charlton, 

*  where  for  ye  most  part  shee  staid  while  wee  continued 
1  in  the  country),  yett  he  was  halfe  a  yeare  in  my  com- 
'  pany   before   I   discovered  anything  of  a  particular 
'  inclination  for  mee  more  than  another ;  and,  as  I  was 

*  civill  to  him  both  for  his  owne  merit  and  his  sister's 

*  sake,  so  any  particular  civility  I  received  from  him  I 
'  looked  upon  as  flowing  from  the  affection  he  had  to 
'  his  sister,  and  her  kindness  to  mee.     After  that  time, 
4  itt  seems  hee  was  nott  so  much  master  of  himselfe  as 

*  to  conceal  itt  any  longer.      And  having  never  any 
4  opertunity  of  being  alone  with  mee  to  speake  himselfe, 


THE  LOVE-STORY  OF  ANNE  MURRAY     157 

'  hee  imployed  a  young  gentleman  (whose  confident* 
'  he  was  in  an  amour  betwixt  him  and  my  Lady  Anne 

*  his  cousin-german)  to  tell  mee  how  much  hee  had 
'  indeavored  all  this  time  to  smother  his  passion,  which 
1  hee  said  began  the  first  time  that  ever  hee  saw  mee, 
1  and  now  was  come  to  that  height  that  if  I  did  not  give 
'  him  some  hopes  of  faver  he  was  resolved  to  goe  back 
1  againe  into  France  and  turn  Capuchin.'     Much  dis- 
mayed at  this  threat,  she  yet  refused  for  a  week  or  ten 
days  to  have  anything  to  say  to  him  ;  <  butt  when  all  I 
1  could  say  to  him  by  his  friend  could  not  prevaile,  butt 
'  that  hee  grewe  so  ill  and  discontented  that  all  the 

*  howse  took  notice,  I  did  yield  so  farre  to  comply  with 
4  his  desire  as  to  give  him  liberty  one  day  when  I  was 
'  walking  in  ye  gallery  to  come  there  and  speake,  to 
'  mee.     What  he  saide  was  handsome  and  short,  butt 
1  much  disordered,  for  hee  looked  pale  as  death,  and  his 
4  hande  trembled  when  he  tooke  mine  to  lead  mee,  and 

*  with  a  great  sigh  said,  "If  I  loved  you  lese  I  could 

*  say  more."     I  told  him  I  could  not  butt  thinke  my- 

*  selfe  much  obleeged  to  him  for  his  good  opinion  of 
'  mee,  butt  itt  would  be  a  higher  obligation  to  confirme 
<  his  esteeme  of  mee  by  following  my  advice,  which  I 

*  should  now  give  him  myselfe,  since  hee  would  not 

*  receave  itt  by  his  friend.     I  used  many  arguments  to 
'  diswade  him  from  pursuing  what  hee  proposed.     And, 
'  in  conclusion  told  him  I  was  2  or  3  yeare  older  than 
'  hee,  and  were  there  no  other  objection,  yett  that  was 

*  of  such  weight  with  mee  as  would   never  lett  mee 
4  allow  his  further  adrese.     " Madam,"  (said  he),  "what 
'  "  I  love  in  you  may  well  increase,  butt  I  am  sure  itt 
1  "  can  never  decay."     I  left  arguing  and  told  him  I 

*  would  advise  him  to  consult  with  his  own  reason,  and 
1  that  would  lett  him  see  I  had  more  respect  to  him  in 
'  denying  than  in  granting  what  with  so  much  passion 
4  he  desired. 

1  After  that  hee  sought  and  I  shunned  all  opertunittys 


158     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

'  of  private  discourse  with  him  ;  butt  one  day,  in  ye 
4  garden,  his  friend  tooke  his  sister  by  the  hand  and 
'  lead  her  into  another  walke,  and  left  him  and  I 
'  together :  and  hee  with  very  much  seriousnese, 

*  began  to  tell  mee  that  hee  had  observed  ever  since 
(  hee  had  discovered  his  affection  to  mee  that  I  was 
t  more  reserved   and   avoided   all   converse  with  him, 

*  and  therefore,  since  hee  had  no  hopes  of  my  faver, 
i  hee  was  resolved  to  leave  England,  since  hee  could 
4  not  bee  hapy  in  it.      And   that  whatever  became  of 

*  him  yt  might  make  him  displease  either  his  father  or 
'  his  friends  I  was  the  occation  of  it,  for  if  I  would  not 

*  give  him  hopes  of  marying  him  hee  was  resolved  to 
4  putt  himself  out  of  a  capacity  of  marying  any  other 
'  and  go  imediately  into  a  conventt.     And  that  he  had 
'  taken  order  to  have  post  horses  ready  against  the  next 
1  day.    I  confese  this  discourse  disturbed  mee,  for  though 
'  I  had  had  noe  respect  for  him,  his  sister,  or  his  family, 
'  yett  relligion  was  a  tye  upon    mee  to  endeavor  the 
4  prevention  of  the  hazard  of  his  soule.' 

It  is  needful  to  condense  a  little  the  leisurely  course 
of  her  reminiscences.  The  utmost  she  would  promise 
him  was  that  she  would  marry  no  other  till  she  should 
hear  that  he  was  married.  Before  his  sister  left,  he 
tried  to  induce  her  to  consent  to  a  secret  marriage,  but 
in  vain.  His  father  at  length  relented,  and  '  did  offer 
4  to  doe  the  utmost  his  condition  would  allow  him  if 
'  shee  (the  mother)  would  lett  mee  take  my  hazard  with 
1  his  son.'  But  Mrs.  Murray  was  obdurate.  Finding 
they  were  to  be  parted,  Anne  consented  to  a  last  inter- 
view in  her  sister's  presence.  '  My  sister  beeing  only  with 
'  mee,  we  came  downe  together  to  ye  roome  I  apointed 
'  to  meett  with  him.  I  confese  I  never  saw  those  two 
1  pasions  of  love  and  regrett  more  truly  represented, 
'  nor  could  any  person  exprese  greater  affection  and 
'  resolution  of  constancy,  wch  with  many  solemne 
1  oaths  hee  sealed  of  never  loving  or  marying  any  butt 


THE  LOVE-STORY  OF  ANNE  MURRAY    159 

'  my  selfe.     I  was  not  sattisfied  with  his  swearing  to 
'  future   performances,    since   I    said    both   hee   and    I 

*  might  find  itt  most  convenient  to  retract ;   but  this  I 
'  did  assure   him,  as   long  as   hee  was  constantt  hee 

*  should  never  find  a  change  in  mee,  for  though  duty  did 
'  oblieege  mee  nott  to  marry  any  withoutt  my  mother's 
1  consentt,  yett  itt  would  nott  tye  mee  to  marry  without 
1  my  owne.     My  sister  at  this  rises,  and  said,  "  I  did 
'  "  nott  thinke  you  would  have  ingaged  mee  to  be  a 

*  "  wittnese  of  both  your  resolutions  to  continue  what 
'  "  I  expected  you  would  rather  have  laid  aside,  and 
'  "  therefore  I  will  leave  you."     "Oh,  Madam  "  (said 

*  hee),  "can  you  imagine  I  love  att  that  rate  as  to  have 
'  "  it  shaken  by  any  storme?     Noe  ;    were   I   secure 

*  "  your  sister  would  not  suffer  in  my  absence  by  her 

*  "  mother's  sevearity  I  would   nott  care  what  misery 
'  "  I  were  exposed  to ;    butt  to  thinke  I  should  bee  ye 
1  "  occation  of  trouble  to  the  person  in  ye  earth  that 
'  "  I  love  most  is  unsuportable  "  ;   and  with  that  hee 
'  fell  downe  in  a  chaire  that  was  behind  him,  but  as  one 
'  without  all  sence,  wch  I  must  confese  did  so  much 
'  move  mee,  yt  laing  aside  all  former  distance  I  had 
4  kept  him  att,  I  sat  downe  upon  his  knee,  and  laying 
'  my  head  neare  his  I  suffred  him  to  kisse  mee,  wch 
1  was  a  liberty  I  never  gave  before,  nor  had  nott  then 
4  had  I  nott  seene  him  so  overcome  with  griefe,  wch  I 
'  endeavered  to  supprese  with  all  ye  incouragement  I 
'  could,  butt  still  presing  him  to  be  obedientt  to  his 
1  -father,  either  in  going  abroad  or  staying  att  home  as 

*  hee  thought  most  convenient.      "  Noe  "   (says   he), 

*  "since  they  will  not  allow  mee  to  converse  with  you, 
'  "  France  will  bee  more  agreeable  to  mee  then  England, 
1  "  nor  will  I  goe  there  except  I  have  liberty  to  come  here 
1  "  againe  and  take  my  leave  of  you."     To  that  I  could 
'  not  disagree  if  they  thought  fitt  to  allow  itt ;   and  so 
'  my  sister  and  I  left  him,  butt  she  durst  nott  owne  to 

*  my  mother  where  shee  had  beene. 


160    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

4  The  next  morning  early  my  Lord  H.  went  away, 
4  and  tooke  with  him  his  son  and  daughter,  and  left  me 
1  to  the  sevearities  of  my  offended  mother,  who  nothing 
4  could  pacify.  ...  In  the  meantime  my  chamber  and 
'  liberty  of  lying  alone  was  taken  from  mee,  and  my 
1  sister's  woman  was  to  bee  my  guardian,  who  watched 
'  sufficiently  so  that  I  had  not  the  least  opertunity  day 
1  or  night  to  bee  without  her.'  So  strict  a  guard  was 
set  that  one  evening,  '  having  gott  liberty  to  walke  in 
'  the  hall,  my  mother  sent  a  child  of  my  sister's  and  bid 
4  him  walke  with  mee,  and  keepe  mee  company.  I  had 
1  not  been  there  a  quarter  of  an  hower  butt  my  maid 

*  Miriam  came  to  mee  and  told  mee  shee  was  walkeing 

<  at  the  backe  gate  and  Mr.  H.  came  to  her  and  sentt 
'  her  to  desire  mee  to  come  there  and  speake  butt  two 
'  or  three  words  with  him,  for  hee  had   sworne  nott 
'  to  goe  away  without  seeing  mee,  nor  would  hee  come 
'  in  to  see  my  mother,   for  he   had  left  London  that 

*  morning  very  early  and  had  rod  up  and  downe  that 
4  part  of  the  country  only  till  itt  was  ye  gloome  of  ye 

*  evening  to  have  the  more  privacy  in  comming  to  see 
'  mee.     I  bid  her  goe  backe  and  tell  him  I  durst  not 

*  see  him  because  of  my  mother's  oath  and  her  dis- 
'  charge.     While  shee  was  presing  mee  to  run  to  the 

<  gate,  and  I  was  neere  to  take  the  start,  the  child  cried 
'  outt,  "  O,  my  aunt  is  going  "  ;  wch  stoped  me,  and  I 

*  sent  her  away  to  tell  ye  reason  why  I  could  nott  come. 
'  I  still  staid  walking  in  the  hall   till  shee  returned, 

<  wondring  shee  staid  so  long.     When  shee  came  shee 
'  was  hardly  able  to  speake,  and  with  great  disorder 
'  said,  "  I  believe  you  are  ye  most  unfortunate  person 
'  living,  for  I  thinke  Mr.  H.  is  killed." '     Killed  he  was 
not,  however,  but  only  stunned,  having  been  struck  on 
the    head   from   behind   in   a   mistake   for   Sir   Henry 
Newton,  Anne's  sister's  husband,  who  was  obnoxious 
to  the  Roundheads,  this  being  in  the  war-time.     One 
more  attempt  he  made  to  induce  her  to  meet  him  in 


THE  LOVE-STORY  OF  ANNE  MURRAY    161 

'  the  banketting  howse  in  the  garden '  in  the  presence  of 
his  tutor  Mr.  T.,  <a  very  serious  good  man.'  Having 
promised  not  to  see  him,  she  imagined  she  did  not 
break  her  word  by  going  to  the  interview  blindfold, 
and  she  parted  with  him  with  the  same  promise,  that 
though  she  would  not  marry  him  against  her  mother's 
will,  she  would  not  marry  any  other. 

So  much  submission  should  have  disarmed  her 
mother's  anger,  but  Mrs.  Murray  was  implacable,  and 
made  Anne's  life  such  a  burden  to  her  that  after  a  while 
she  wrote  to  her  cousin,  Sir  Patrick  Drummond,  in 
Holland,  to  inquire  about  a  Protestant  nunnery  of 
which  she  had  heard,  and  to  which  she  would  like  to 
retire.  Sir  Patrick,  'a  wise  and  honest  gentleman,' 
instead  of  answering  her  questions,  wrote  to  Mrs. 
Murray  *a  very  handsome  serious  letter,'  begging  her 
to  be  reconciled  to  her  daughter,  with  so  much  effect 
that,  says  Anne,  '  she  receaved  mee  againe  to  her 
4  faver,  and  ever  affter  used  mee  more  like  a  freind  than 
4  a  child.' 

It  is  sad  that  after  so  much  passion  on  the  one  side 
and  so  much  constancy  on  the  other,  there  should  have 
been  no  happy  ending  to  their  troubles  ;  but  the  young 
man's  fancy  was  as  transient  as  it  was  hot,  and  two 
years  later  he  made  a  rash  marriage,  which,  as  she 
records  with  a  touch  of  inward  satisfaction,  turned  out 
unhappily.  She  relates  how  she  received  the  news  :  '  I 
1  was  alone  in  my  sister's  chamber  when  I  read  the  letter, 
4  and  flinging  my  selfe  downe  upon  her  bed,  I  said, 
4  "  Is  this  the  man  for  whom  I  have  sufred  so  much? 
1  "  Since  hee  hath  made  him  selfe  unworthy  my  love, 
1  "  hee  is  unworthy  my  anger  or  concerne  "  ;  and  rising 
'  imediately  I  wentt  outt  into  the  next  roome  to  my 
1  super  as  unconcernedly  as  if  I  had  never  had  an 
'  interest  in  him,  nor  had  ever  lost  itt.' 

Perhaps  with  her  it  had  been  fancy  and  tenderness 
merely  that  were  touched,  and  her  feelings  intensified 

L 


162     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

by  opposition,  for  after  a  short  time  she  shook  off  the 
remembrance  of  her  faithless  lover  and  was  ready  to 
entertain  a  far  deeper  and  more  abiding  affection  for  a 
man  between  whom  and  herself  there  was  a  more  serious 
bar  than  a  parent's  opposition.  This  was  Colonel  Barn- 
field,  a  friend  of  her  favourite  brother  Will,  with  whom 
she  was  concerned  in  contriving  the  escape  of  the  Duke 
of  York,  and  with  whom  she  was  thereby  much  and 
intimately  thrown.  She  thus  speaks  of  him  : — 

'This    gentleman    came    to   see    mee   sometimes  in 

*  the  company  of  ladys  who  had   beene  my  mother's 
'  neibours  in  St.  Martin's  Lane,  and  sometimes  alone, 
4  butt  when  ever  hee  came  his  discourse  was  serious, 

*  handsome,  and   tending  to   imprese  the  advantages 
'  of  piety,  loyalty,  and  vertue  ;  and  these  subjects  were 

<  so  agreeable    to    my  own    inclination    that    I    could 

*  not  butt  give  them  a  good  reception,  especially  from 

*  one  that  seemed  to  bee  so  much  an  owner  of  them 

*  himselfe.     Affter  I  had  beene  used  to  freedom  of  dis- 
'  course  with  him  I  told  him  I  aproved  much  of  his 
'  advice  to  others,  butt  I  thought  his  owne  practise  con- 

<  tradicted    much   of    his   profession,    for    one    of   his 
6  acquaintance  had    told   mee  hee  had  nott  seene  his 

<  wife  in  a  twelvemonth,  and  itt  was  impossible,  in  my 

<  opinion,  for  a  good  man  to  bee  an  ill  husband  ;  and 
1  therefore  hee  must  defende  himselfe  from  one  before  I 

*  could  believe  the  other  of  him.     Hee  said  it  was  not 
'  necessary  to  give  every  one  that  might  condemne  him 

*  the  reason  of  his  being  so   long  from  her,  yett  to 
4  satisfy  mee  hee  would  tell  mee  the  truth  wch  was  that 
'  hee  being  engaged   in   the   King's    service   he   was 
'  oblieged  to  bee  att  London,  where  itt  was  nott  con- 

*  venientt  for  her  to  bee  with  him,  his  stay  in  any  place 
t  being  uncertaine ;    besides  shee    lived    amongst   her 

<  freinds,  who,  though  they  were  kind  to  her,  yett  were 
'  nott  so  to  him,  for  most  of  that  county  had  declared  for 
1  the  Parleament,  and  were  enemys  to  all  that  had  or 


THE  LOVE-STORY  OF  ANNE  MURRAY     163 

1  did  serve  the  King,  and  therefore  his  wife,   he  was 

*  sure,  would  not  condemne  him  for  what  hee  did  by 
4  her  owne  consentt.     This  seeming  reasonable,  I  did 

*  insist  noe  more  upon  that  subject.' 

The  story  of  the  escape  of  the  Duke  of  York  shall  be 
related  in  its  due  place  ;  here  we  will  concern  ourselves 
with  the  relations  that  grew  up  between  the  two  who 
were  concerned  in  it.  After  Colonel  Bamfield  had 
safely  conveyed  his  charge  to  the  Hague,  he  was  sent 
back  to  England  by  the  prince  in  order  that  he  might 
be  serviceable  to  the  king,  his  devotion  to  the  royal 
cause  being  so  well  proved.  This  gave  him  occasion 
to  enlist  Anne's  services  once  more.  Her  own  narrative 
goes  on  : — 

4  As  soone  as  C.   B.   landed  beyond  ye  Tower,  hee 

*  writt  to  desire  I  would  doe  him  the  faver  as  to  come 
4  to  him,  as  beeing  the  only  person  who  att  that  time 
i  hee  could  trust ;  and  when  hee  should  acquaint  mee 
1  with  ye  occation  of  his  comming,  hee  doupted  nott 
4  butt  I  would  forgive  him  for  the  liberty  hee  had  taken. 
4  I  knowing  hee  could  come  upon  no  accountt  but  in 
4  order  to  serve  the   King,   I    imediately  sent  for  an 

*  honest   hackney   coachman   who  I    knew   might   bee 
4  trusted,  and  taking  Miriam  with  mee,  I  wentt  where 
4  hee  was,  who  giving  mee  a  short  information  of  what 
4  hee  was  imployed  aboutt,  and  how  much  secresy  was 
4  to  be  used  both  as  to  ye  King's  interest  and  his  owne 
(  security,  itt  is  not  to  be  doupted  butt  I  contributed 
4  what  I  could  to  both,  and,  taking   him  backe  in  the 
4  coach  with  mee,  left  him  att  a  private  lodging  nott 
4  very  farre  from  my  brother's  howse,  that  a  servantt  of 
4  his  had  prepared  for  him.     The  earnest  desire  I  had 
4  to  serve  the   King  made  mee  omitt  noe  opertunity 
4  wherein  I  could  be  usefull,  and  the  zeale  I  had  for  his 
4  Maty  made  me  nott  see  what  inconveniencys  I  exposed 
4  my  selfe  to  ;  for  my  intentions  being  just  and  inocentt 
4  made  mee  not  reflect  what  conclusions  might  bee  made 


164    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

*  for  the  private  visitts  which  I  could  nott  butt  necesarily 
(  make  to  him  in  order  to  the  King's  service,  for  what- 
'  ever  might  relate  to  itt  yt  came  within  my  knowledge 
'  I  gave  him  accountt  of,  and  he  made  such  use  of  itt  as 
1  might  most  advance  his  designe.     As  long  as  there 
'  was  any  posibility  of  conveying  letters  secrettly  to  the 

*  King,  hee  frequently  writt,  and  receaved  very  kind 
'  letters  from  his  Matie,  with  severall   instructions  and 

*  letters  to  persons  of  honour  and  loyalty  ;  butt  when 
'  all  access  was  debarred  by  the  strict  guard  placed  about 
1  the  King,  all  hee  could  then  doe  was  to  keepe  warme 
1  those  affections  in  such  as  hee  had  influence  in  till  a 

*  seasonable  opertunity  to  evidence  their  love  and  duty 

<  to  his  Matie. 

'  Though  C.  B.  discovered  himselfe  to  none  but  such 
6  as  were  of  known  integrity,  yett  many  comming  to 
1  that  place  where  he  lay  made  him  think  itt  convenient 

*  for  his  own  safety  to  goe  some  time  into  the  country, 
'  and  att  his  returne  to  bee  more  private.     One  evening 
'  when  I  wentt  to  see  him  I  found  him  lying  upon  his 
'  bed,  and  asking  him  if  hee  were  nott  well,  hee  told 
'  mee  he  was  well  enough,  butt  had  receaved  a  visitt 
'  in  the  morning  from  a  person  that  hee  wondred  much 
i  how  hee  found  him  out ;  he  was  a  solicittor  that  was 
6  imployed  by  all  the  gentlemen  in  the  county  where 
'  hee  lived,  wch  was  hard  by  where  his  wife  dwelt,  and 
'  he  had  brought  him  word  shee  was  dead,  and  named 
1  the  day  and  place  where  she  was  buried.     I  confese  I 
4  saw  him  nott  in  much  griefe,  and  therefore  I  used  nott 
t  many  words  of  consolation,  butt  left  him  affter  I  had 
'  given  him  accountt  of  the  busynesse  I  wentt  for.     I 
1  neither  made  my  visitts  lese  nor  more  to  him  for  this 
1  news,  for  Loyalty  beeing  the  principle  that  first  led 
'  mee  to  a  freedome  of  converse  with  him,  so  still  I 
4  continued  itt  as  offten  as  there  was  occation  to  serve 

<  that  interest.     Hee   putt  on  mourning,  and  told  the 
'  reason  of  itt  to  such  as  hee  conversed  with,  butt  had 


THE  LOVE-STORY  OF  ANNE  MURRAY     165 

'  desired  the  gentleman  who  had  first  acquainted  him 
4  with  itt  nott  to  make  itt  puplicke  lest  the  fortune  hee 
'  had  by  his  wife  should  bee  sequestred.  To  bee 
'  short,  affter  a  little  time  hee  one  day,  when  I  was 
'  alone  with  him,  began  to  tell  mee  that  now  hee  was 

*  a  free  man  hee  would  say  that  to  mee  wch  I  should 
4  never  have  knowne  while  hee  lived  if  itt  had  beene 

*  other  ways,  which  was  that  hee  had  a  great  respect 
'  and  honour  for  mee  since  the  first  time  hee  knewe 
'  mee,  butt  had  resolved  itt  should  die  with  him  if  he 
'  had  not  beene  in  condition  to  declare  itt  without  doing 
'  mee  prejudice,  for  hee  hoped  if  hee  could  gaine  an 
'  interest  in  my  affection  itt  would  nott  apeare  so  un- 
1  reasonable  to  marry  him  as  others  might  representt 

*  itt,  for  if  itt  pleased  God  to  restore  the  King,  of  wch 
'  hee  was  nott  yett  out  of  hopes,  hee  had  a  promise  of 

*  beeing  one  of  his  Matie's  bedchamber ;    and,  though 
'  that  should  faile,  yett  what  hee  and  I  had  together 
'  would  be  about  eight    hundred    pounds  sterling    a 
1  yeare,   wch,    with  the   Lord's  blessing,   might  be  a 
1  competency  to    any  contenttment    minds.      Hee    so 
i  offten  insisted  on  this  when  I  had  occation  to  be  with 
'  him  that  att  last  hee  prevailed  with  mee,  and  I  did 

*  consentt  to  his  proposal,  and  resolved  to  marry  him 
i  as  soone  as  itt  apeared  convenientt ;  butt  wee  delayed 
'  till  wee  saw  how  itt  pleased  God  to  determine  of  the 
1  King's  affaires.     I  know  I  may  bee  condemned  as 
'  one  that  was  too  easily  prevailed  with,  butt  this  I 

*  must  desire  to  bee  considered,  hee  was  one  who  I  had 
'  beene  conversantt  with  for  severall  yeares  before  ;  one 
1  that  professed    a    great    freindship    to    my    beloved 
'  brother  Will ;  hee  was  unquestionably  loyall,  hand- 

*  some,  a  good  skollar,  wch  gave  him  the  advantages 

*  of  writing  and  speaking  well,  and  the  cheefest  orna- 

*  ment  hee  had  was  a  devout  life  and  conversation.    Att 
'  least  hee  made  itt  apeare  such  to  mee,  and  what  ever 

*  misfortune  hee  brought  upon  mee  I  will  do  him  that 


166    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

4  right   as    to   acknowledge    I    learnt  from   him    many 

*  excellent  lessons  of  piety  and  vertue,  and  to  abhorre 

*  and  detest  all  kinds  of  vice.     This  beeing  his  constant 
4  dialect  made  mee  thinke  myselfe  as  secure  from  ill  in 

*  his  company  as  in  a  sanctuary.     From  the  prejudice 
4  wch  that  opinion  brought  upon  mee  I  shall  advise  all 
4  never  to  thinke  a   good    intention    can  justify  what 
4  may  bee  scandalous,   for   though    one's  actions  bee 
4  never  so  inocentt,  yett  they  cannott  blame  them  who 
4  suspect  them  guilty  when  there  is  apearance  of  there 
4  deserved  reproach  ;  and  I  confese  I  did  justly  suffer 
4  ye  scourge  of  the  toung  for  exposing  my  selfe  upon 
4  any  consideration  to  what  might  make  mee  liable  to 
4  itt,  for  which  I  condemne  my  selfe  as  much  as  my 
4  sevearest  enemy.' 

It  must  be  remembered  that  Anne  was  writing  this  in 
the  light  of  after  events,  when  her  conduct  may  have 
seemed  open  to  misconstruction.  She  goes  on  :— 

'The  King's  misfortune  dayly  increasing,  and  his 
4  enemy's  rage  and  malice,  both  were  att  last  deter- 
4  mined  in  that  execrable  murder,  never  to  be  men- 
4  tioned  without  horror  and  detestation.  This  putt 
4  such  a  dampe  upon  all  designes  of  the  Royall  party, 
4  that  they  were  for  a  time  like  those  that  dreamed  ;  but 
4  they  quickly  roused  themselves,  and  resolved  to  leave 
4  noe  means  unesayed  that  might  evidence  their  loyalty. 

*  Many  excellent  designes  were   laid,    butt  the   Lord 
4  thought  fitt  to  disapoint  them   all,    that   His  owne 
4  power  might  bee   ye    more    magnified    by  bringing 
4  home  ye  King    in    peace  when  all  hostile  attempts 
4  failed.     In  the  meantime  C.  B.  was  nott  idle  though 
4  unsuccessful!,  and  still  continued  in  or  about  London, 
4  where  hee  could  bee  most  secure.     One  day  when  I 
4  wentt  to  see  him   I  found  him  extreordinary  melan- 
4  choly  ;  and,  having  taken  mee  by  the  hand,  and  lead 
4  mee  to  a  seate,  wentt  from  mee  to  the  other  side  of  ye 
4  roome,  wch  I  wondred  att,  because  hee  usually  satte 


THE  LOVE-STORY  OF  ANNE  MURRAY     167 

1  by  mee  when  I  was  with  him.  With  a  deepe  sigh  hee 
1  saide,  "  You  must  nott  wonder  att  this  distance,  for  I 
'  "have  had  news  since  I  saw  you,  that  if  itt  bee  true, 
1  "  my  distance  from  you  must  be  greater,  and  I  must 
'  "conclude  my  selfe  the  most  unfortunate  of  men."  I 
6  was  much  troubled  att  the  discourse,  but  itt  was  in- 
'  creased  when  hee  told  mee  the  reason  of  itt,  for  hee 
4  said  one  had  informed  him  that  his  wife  was  living. 

*  What  a  surprise  that  was  to  mee  none  can  imagine, 
'  because  I  beleeve  none  ever  met  with  such  a  tryall. 
'  Hee,  seeing  mee  in  great  disorder,  said,  "Pray  bee 
'  "  not  discomposed  till  the  truth  bee  knowne,  for  upon 
4  "the  first  intimation  of  itt  I  sent  away  my  man  Ned 
1  "  B.,  who  served  mee  long  and  knows  the  country  and 
'  "persons  where  shee  lived,  who  will  returne  within  a 

*  "fortnight.     If  itt  be  false,  I  hope  you  will  have  no 

*  "reason  to  change  your  thoughts  and  intentions  ;  if 
'  "itt  should  bee  true,  God  is  my  witnese  I  am  nott 

*  "guilty  of  the  contrivance  of  the  report  of  her  beeing 

<  "dead,   nor   had   noe    designe  butt  what  I  thought 
'  "justifiable."     I  could  not  contradict  what  hee  said, 
t  and  charity  led  mee  to  beleeve  him.      I  left  him  in 

<  great  disturbance,  butt  could   conclude    nothing  till 
'  the  returne  of  his  servantt,  who   brought  word  that 
'  his  wife  died  att  the  same  time  that  hee  first  gott 

*  knowledge  of  itt,  and  that  hee  was  att  her  grave  where 
'  shee  was  buried,  wch  I  beleeving,  continued  my  former 
4  resolutions,  and  intended  to  marry  as  soone  as  wee 

*  could  putt  our  affairs  in  such  order  as  to   preventt 

*  sequestration.' 

About  this  time  her  brother  Will  came  home  from 
the  Hague  in  much  trouble,  having  been  accused  to  the 
young  King  Charles  n.  of  a  plot  to  place  the  Duke  of 
York  on  the  throne,  in  which  Colonel  Bamfield  was 
also  supposed  to  be  engaged.  Cut  to  the  heart  by 
meeting  with  injustice  and  misunderstanding  in  such  a 
quarter,  having  done  and  suffered  so  much  in  the  royal 


1 68     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

cause,  Will  Murray  retired  to  Cobham  where  he  was 
kindly  received  by  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Richmond, 
but  he  could  not  recover  his  spirits.  '  Hee  would  steale 
*  from  the  company,  and  going  into  the  wood,  lye 
4  many  hours  together  upon  the  ground,  where  perhaps 
4  hee  catched  cold,  and  that,  mixing  with  discontented 
4  humours,  turned  to  a  feaver  whereoff  hee  died.' 
Shortly  before  his  death,  receiving  the  Holy  Sacrament, 
he  solemnly  protested  his  innocence  of  what  was  laid  to 
his  charge,  and  in  answer  to  his  sister's  question  about 
her  lover  said,  4  Hee  thought  hee  might  say  as  much  for 
him  as  for  himselfe.' 

Left  thus  desolate — for  her  mother  had  died  a  few  years 
before — poor  Anne  thankfully  accepted  the  invitation  of 
her  old  friend  Anne  Howard,  now  Lady  Howard,  having 
married  her  cousin  Sir  Charles,  to  accompany  them  into 
the  North  ;  which  was  the  more  desirable,  as  rumours 
were  about  of  her  having  been  concerned  in  the  escape 
of  the  Duke  of  York,  so  she  were  best  out  of  the  way 
for  a  while.  C.  B.  willingly  consented,  proposing  to 
follow  her  shortly  and  avow  their  engagement.  Her 
journey  northward  and  her  stay  at  Naworth  Castle  are 
described  with  her  usual  love  for  graphic  detail ;  but 
her  peace  and  comfort  there  was,  as  she  says,  4too 
4  great  to  last  long,  for  the  post  (going  by  weekely) 
4  one  day  brought  mee  sad  letters  ;  one  from  C.  B. 
4  giving  mee  accountt  that  just  the  night  before  hee 
4  intended  to  come  North,  having  prepared  all  things 
4  for  accomplishing  what  we  had  designed,  hee  was 
4  taken  and  secured  in  the  Gate-house  at  Westminster, 
4  and  could  expect  nothing  butt  death.  With  much 
4  dificulty  hee  had  gott  that  conveyed  outt  to  mee  to  lett 
4  mee  know  what  condittion  hee  was  in,  and  that  he  ex- 
4  pected  my  prayers,  since  nothing  els  I  could  doe  could 
4  be  avealable,  for  hee  had  some  reason  to  aprehend 
4  those  I  was  concerned  in  and  might  have  influence 
4  upon  was  his  enemys,  and  therefore  I  might  expect 


THE  LOVE-STORY  OF  ANNE  MURRAY    169 

*  litle  assistance  from  them.     Presently  affter  I  receaved 
'  a  letter  from  my  brother  M.  and  another  from  my  sister 
'  N. ,  his  very  seveare,  hers  more  compasionate,  but  both 

*  representing  C.  B.  under  the  caracter  of  the  most  un- 
1  worthy  person  living  ;   that  hee  had  abused  mee  in 
'  pretending  his  wife  was  dead,  for  shee  was  alive  ;  and 

*  that  her  unckle  Sir  Ralph  S.  had  assured  them  both 
4  of  itt,  wch  made  nott  only  them  butt  all  that  ever  had 

*  kindnese  for  mee  so  abhorre  him,  that  though  he  were 
1  now  likely  to  dye,  yett  none  pittyed  him.    Had  the  news 
'  of  either  of  these  come  singly  itt  had  been  enough  to 
'  have  tryed  the  strength  of  all  the  relligion  and  vertue 
1  I   had,  butt  so  to  bee  surrounded  with   misfortunes 

*  conquered  whatever  could  resist  them,  and  I  fell  so 
i  extreamly  sicke  that  none  expected  life  for  mee.'     She 
recovered,   however,   and  was   somewhat  comforted  at 
receiving  news  of  his  escape  from  prison,  but  not  only 
her  own  family  but  Lady  Howard  also  seemed  convinced 
of  his  having  intended  to  play  the  villain.    However  that 
may  have  been   in  the  beginning,  it  was  now  certain 
that  his  wife  was  alive,  and  the  only  thing  for  poor 
Anne  to  do  was  to  endeavour  to  forget  him,  and  he  was 
much  to  blame  in  pursuing  her  to  Scotland  and  molest- 
ing her,  even  after  she  had  made  up  her  mind  to  accept 
the  offer  of  marriage  which  after  some  time  she  received 
from  Sir  James  Halkett,  a  widower,  whose  daughters 
she  had  taken  charge  of.    So  far  as  appears  in  the  auto- 
biography, Bamfield  seems  to  have  had  hard  measure 
dealt  him  ;  but  since  Anne,  who,  it  was  evident,  had  so 
tenderly  loved  him,   speaks  of  him  with  such  marked 
disapproval,  it  may  be  that,  in  despair  of  a  legitimate 
tie,  he  may  have  made  proposals  that  it  was  impossible 
for  her  to  listen  to.     She  took  the  prudent  course  and 
was  married  to  Sir  James  Halkett  at  Charlton,  after  the 
strange  manner  prescribed  by  the  government  of  the 
time.     This  is  her  account  of  the  ceremony  : — 

1  Upon  Satturday  the  first  of  March,  1655-6,  Sir  James 


170    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

4  and  I  wentt  to  Charleton,  and  tooke  with  us  Mr.  Gaile 
4  who  was  chaplaine  to  the  Countess  of  Devonshire,  who 
4  preached  (as  hee  some  times  used  to  doe)  at  the  church 
4  the  next  day,  and  affter  super  hee  maried  us  in  my 
4  brother  Newton's  closett,  none  knowing  of  itt  in  the 
4  familly  or  beeing  presentt  butt  my  brother  and  sister 
4  and  Mr.  Neale  ;  though  conforme  to  the  order  of  those 
4  that  were  then  in  power,  who  allowed  of  noe  mariage 
4  lawfull  butt  such  as  were  maried  by  one  of  there  Justices 

*  of  Peace,  that  they  might  object  nothing  against  our 
4  manage,  affter  the  evening  sermon  my  sister  pretend- 
4  ing  to  goe  to  see  Justice  Elkonhead  who  was  not  well, 

*  living  att  Woolwitch,  took  Sir  James  and  mee  with  her 

*  in  the  coach,  and  my  brother  and  Mr.   Neale  wentt 
4  another  way  affoott  and  mett  us  there,  and  the  Justice 
6  performed  what  was  usuall  for  him  at  that  time  wch 
4  was  only  holding  ye  Directory  in  his  hand,  asked  Sir 
4  James  if  hee  intended  to  marry  mee,   hee  answered 
4  Yes ;  and  asked  if  I  intended  to  marry  him,  I  said 
4  Yes.     Then  says  hee,    "I  pronounce  you  man  and 
4  wife."     So  calling  for  a  glase  of  sacke,  hee  drunk  and 
4  wished  much  hapinese  to  us  ;  and  wee  left  him,  having 
4  given  his  clarke  mony,  who  gave  in  parchmentt  the 
4  day  and  witneses,  and  attested  by  the  Justice  that  hee 
4  had  maried  us.     Butt  if  itt  had  nott  beene  done  more 
4  solemnly  afterwards  by  a  minister  I  should  not  have 
4  beleeved  it  lawfully  done.' 

Soon  after  this  Anne's  narrative  breaks  off  abruptly. 
4  C.  B.'  seems  to  have  passed  out  of  her  life  for  good. 


CHAPTER  XII 

MARRIED   LIFE 

WITH  marriages  arranged  as  many  of  these  were,  with 
surprisingly  little  regard  to  the  personal  preferences  of 
those  chiefly  concerned,  we  should  perhaps  hardly  look 
for  very  satisfactory  results  ;  yet  the  voluminous  corre- 
spondence and  memoirs  of  the  time  reveal  by  far  the 
greater  number  of  happy  marriages — not  only  a  rarity 
of  those  that  absolutely  came  to  grief,  but  a  remarkably 
high  level  of  devotion  and  mutual  confidence. 

The  tone  of  family  life  in  the  court  must  have  had 
an  influence.  Not  Queen  Victoria  herself  set  a  better 
example  in  domestic  relations  than  did  Charles  i.  His 
detractors,  with  the  best  will  in  the  world,  could  not  find 
a  stone  to  throw  against  his  personal  purity,  and  his 
severity  was  proverbial.  His  father  was  more  lax 
towards  the  shortcomings  of  those  who  pleased  or 
amused  him,  but,  whatever  his  foibles,  was  blameless 
as  husband  and  father.  His  reign  was  disgraced  by 
the  terrible  scandals  of  the  Lady  Essex  affair,  but  the 
very  noise  which  it  created  showed  that  the  public  con- 
science was  not  habituated  to  easy  views  of  morality. 
The  case  of  Lady  Purbeck  some  years  later  gives  some 
idea  of  the  severity  which  was  meted  out  to  such  culprits.1 
This  lady  had  been  convicted  of  adultery  before  the  High 
Commission  in  London,  and  ordered  to  do  penance  bare- 
foot in  a  white  sheet  in  the  Church  of  the  Savoy.  She 
escaped  from  prison  in  male  attire  and  contrived  to  join 

1  Life  of  Sir  Kenelm  Digby. 

171 


172     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

her  lover  in  Shropshire,  but  imprudently  venturing  to 
London,  she  was  caught  and  put  in  prison  again.  Once 
more  she  esqaped  and  got  over  to  France,  where  she 
embraced  the  Roman  Catholic  religion.  Sir  Kenelm 
Digby,  who  had  become  interested  in  her  on  this  account, 
interceded  for  her  with  the  king,  but  in  vain  :  Charles 
was  quite  inexorable.  As  we  have  seen,  he  would  never 
allow  Lady  Digby  to  be  received  at  court,  although  in 
her  case  there  was  at  least  room  for  doubt  whether  her 
disgrace  were  not  unmerited. 

Among  all  Lord  Cork's  numerous  sons  and  daughters 
whom,  with  the  exception  of  Mary,  he  mated  in  so  high- 
handed a  manner,  we  read  of  no  scandals  and  few 
domestic  jars.  One  indeed,  Elizabeth  Fielding,  who 
married  Lewis,  Lord  Kinalmeakie,  showed  a  hard  and 
cold  disposition,  utterly  refusing  to  leave  the  gaieties  of 
town  when  he  was  ordered  to  Ireland,  and  when  he  fell 
in  battle  displaying  more  concern  for  the  loss  of  a  trunk 
of  finery  and  a  diamond-handled  fan  from  which  she  got 
parted  on  a  journey,  than  she  did  for  the  loss  of  her 
young  husband.  Margaret,  Lady  Broghill,  on  the 
other  hand,  followed  hers  to  Ireland,  and  stayed  loyally 
at  his  side  so  long  as  it  was  possible  for  her  to  do  so, 
and  her  father-in-law  gives  a  pathetic  account  of  their 
parting  when  he  was  obliged  to  leave  for  the  war. 

As  Dorothy  Osborne  observed,  it  was  not  always  the 
love-matches  that  turned  out  the  best.  The  one  she 
was  commenting  on,  that  of  Lady  Strangford,  Lord 
Leicester's  wilful  daughter  Isabella,  was  a  conspicuous 
instance  to  the  contrary,  and  Dorothy  seems  to  have 
several  such  in  her  mind.  To  turn  to  one  in  quite  a 
different  circle,  Milton,  from  whose  lofty  and  serious 
tone  of  mind  higher  things  might  have  been  looked  for, 
followed  the  promptings  of  a  passing  fancy  for  a  pretty 
and  charming  girl,  with  whom  he  seems  to  have  been  but 
a  short  while  acquainted,  only  to  make  her  thoroughly 
miserable,  and  warp  and  embitter  his  own  views  of 


MARRIED  LIFE  173 

domestic  life.1  Brought  up  in  a  bright,  cheerful  country 
home  at  Forest  Hill,  in  the  midst  of  a  royalist  family, 
she  found  the  London  life  in  a  strict  Puritan  circle,  and 
the  severe  and  cold  manners  of  her  husband,  who  was 
probably  immersed  in  study,  more  than  she  could  bear, 
and  pined  for  home.  Most  likely  she  was  not  allowed 
to  solace  herself  by  petting  his  little  nephews  who  lived 
in  the  house  ;  for  his  ideas  would  certainly  be  against 
all  '  cockering  and  apish  indulgence,'  and  she  com- 
plained that  it  made  her  miserable  to  hear  them  cry 
when  he  beat  them.  She,  poor  girl,  had  no  doubt  been 
dazzled  by  the  beautiful  face  and  reserved  demeanour 
of  the  poet,  whose  preference  flattered  her,  while  he 
imagined  that  a  young  girl  whose  sweet  looks  took 
his  fancy  would  surely  be  a  meek  creature  easily 
moulded  to  his  will.  Of  the  details  of  the  misunder- 
standings that  so  quickly  followed  we  know  nothing. 
She  returned  to  her  father's  house,  while  her  husband, 
not  content  with  vehemently  calling  for  a  change  in  the 
laws  that  should  enable  him  to  free  himself  from  her, 
proceeded  to  pay  his  addresses  to  a  handsome  and 
accomplished  young  lady,  daughter  of  a  Dr.  Davis, 
with  a  view  to  marrying  her.  Alarmed  at  the  equivocal 
position  in  which  this  would  place  their  daughter,  the 
Powell  family  contrived  a  reconciliation  by  bringing 
about  an  unexpected  meeting  at  the  house  of  a  mutual 
friend.  Mary  wept  and  begged  pardon,  the  poet 
magnanimously  forgave,  and  she  returned  to  her 
husband's  house,  and  remained  with  him  till  her 
death,  which  occurred  not  many  years  later,  leaving 
him  with  three  daughters,  one  a  cripple.  Of  his  two 
later  matrimonial  ventures  there  is  no  story. 

If  any  marriages  were  entitled  to  turn  out  badly,  it 
was  surely  those  of  the  court  wards,  the  abuse  of  which 
had  become  a  crying  evil  ;  yet  among  the  annals  of 
the  time  we  read  of  no  happier  one  than  that  of  the  little 

1  Masson's  Life  of  Milton. 


174    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

heiress  Mary  Blacknall,1  who  was  handed  over  to  her 
boy  husband,  almost  as  a  matter  of  sale  and  purchase, 
when  she  was  but  thirteen  years  old — happy,  that  is, 
as  between  husband  and  wife  in  sustaining  mutual  love 
and  confidence,  for  of  prosperity  after  the  outbreak  of 
the  war  there  was  but  little.  Had  Ralph  Verney  waited 
till  he  attained  years  of  discretion,  and  sought  the  world 
through  for  a  woman  suited  to  him,  he  could  have 
lighted  on  no  better  choice.  Of  a  sunny,  happy  tem- 
perament, lighting  up  his  tendency  to  gloom  ;  sweet 
and  accommodating  when  he  worried  and  fidgeted 
about  details  of  which  she  was  a  far  better  judge  ; 
loyal  to  him  through  all  his  conscientious  blunders, 
whether  she  agreed  with  his  opinions  or  not ;  never 
appearing  to  recollect  that  it  was  her  fortune  which 
was  being  frittered  away  in  fines  and  sequestrations 
first  on  one  side  then  on  the  other,  for  it  was  Ralph's 
fate  to  side  always  with  the  losing  cause.  In  common 
with  the  best  and  most  thoughtful  men  of  the  day, 
he  had  gone  with  the  Parliamentary  demand  for  the 
redress  of  grievances,  the  reform  of  abuses.  More- 
over, as  did  his  father  Sir  Edmund,  he  wished  to  see 
the  Church  altered  in  the  direction  of  continental  Pro- 
testantism, and  saw  no  reason  why  the  king  should 
not  yield  to  popular  clamour  in  this  matter  also.  When 
the  parting  of  the  ways  came,  and  having  gained  all 
their  just  demands,  Parliament  went  on  to  claim  absolute 
dominion,  and  the  clear-sighted  ones  saw  that  duty  lay 
in  supporting  the  throne,  Ralph  cast  in  his  lot  with  the 
rebels,  and  broke  with  father,  brother,  friends.  When, 
however,  his  own  side  had  gained  ground,  and  he 
recognised  that  their  aim  was  nothing  short  of  the 
destruction  of  Church  and  Throne,  he  recoiled.  He 
preferred  exile  to  signing  the  Covenant,  and  Mary, 
knowing  full  well  that  no  question  of  self-interest  ever 
swayed  him,  consented  unmurmuringly  to  give  up  the 

1    Verney  Memoirs. 


MARRIED  LIFE  175 

1  prity  fine  house '  in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields  into  which 
they  were  just  moving,— harder  still,  parted  with  her 
baby  boy  Jack,  leaving  him  in  his  aunts'  care  at 
Claydon,  and  taking  the  two  elder  children,  Mun  and 
Pegge,  went  cheerfully  with  her  husband  into  the 
poverty  and  dreary  discomfort  of  a  little  French  country 
town. 

Amidst  all  the  difficulties  of  servants  and  house- 
keeping in  a  foreign  land,  Mary  kept  up  her  Claydon 
traditions,  and  in  her  letters  home  mentions  with  pride 
how  famous  she  was  for  her  good  bread.  Occasionally 
dainties  from  home  reach  her  by  some  opportunity  ; 
'  sirrop  of  violets,'  or  a  firkin  of  country  butter.  She 
was  always  busy,  for  besides  her  housekeeping  cares 
she  occupied  herself  a  good  deal  with  the  education  of 
Mun  and  Pegge,  and  kept  up  her  own  playing  and 
singing  to  the  guitar.  Her  old  friend  Lady  Sussex 
writes  to  her :  '  I  hope  you  may  finde  somethinge  of 
'  plesuer  where  you  are,  the  gittir  i  hope  will  take  you 
i  upp  much,  strive  for  cherfulness  with  itt.'  Occasionally 
we  hear  of  her  needlework  ;  her  husband  jokes  her  in 
one  letter  for  the  length  of  time  her  '  great  wroughte 
sheete '  had  been  on  hand.  His  suit  for  the  recovery  of 
his  estate,  he  thinks,  may  come  to  an  end  as  soon.  No 
wonder  she  was  long  over  it,  with  her  many  avocations. 

Had  she  remained  always  at  her  husband's  side  we 
should  hardly  have  learned  all  she  was  capable  of,  but 
after  a  few  years  Ralph  gathered  from  those  at  home, 
who  kept  a  careful  watch  on  his  interests,  that  there 
was  a  chance  through  friends  in  power,  notably  Lady 
Warwick,  formerly  Lady  Sussex,  to  get  the  sequestra- 
tion taken  off  Claydon.  To  go  in  person  would  have 
been  too  dangerous,  so  it  was  arranged  that  Mary 
should  represent  him,  although  a  long  and  fatiguing 
journey  was  most  unfit  for  her  at  the  time.  Her  weekly 
letters  to  him  reveal,  as  nothing  less  intimate  could 
have  done,  her  sweet,  brave,  cheerful  spirit.  No 


1 76    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

wonder  she  found  friends  wherever  she  went.  Ralph 
could  not  have  managed  the  matter  half  so  well,  with 
all  his  business  capacity. 

Travelling  was  by  no  means  easy.  There  was  first 
the  crossing  in  a  sailing-vessel,  when  favourable  winds 
had  often  to  be  waited  for  for  three  weeks  or  more, 
and  when  she  reached  the  other  side  she  found  that 
war  had  dislocated  the  coach  service  and  rendered  the 
roads  dangerous,  and  often  she  could  '  scarce  get  a 
nagge.'  She  reached  London  in  safety,  however,  and 
took  a  lodging  there  under  the  wing  of  Dr.  Denton, 
who  thought  nothing  a  trouble  that  he  could  do  for 
her.  Later  she  '  dietted '  for  a  while  with  Mrs.  Isham, 
one  of  Ralph's  aunts,  paying  a  pound  a  week  for 
herself  and  maid.  Here  she  was  busy  enough  paying 
the  visits  and  making  the  presents  that  Ralph  con- 
sidered advisable,  and  sending  him  a  faithful  account 
of  all  she  did.  After  infinite  delays  and  formalities  she 
succeeded  in  her  errand,  and  then  she  must  needs  go 
down  to  Claydon  to  see  her  own  little  boy  and  her 
husband's  sisters,  and  report  upon  the  damage  neglect 
and  the  quartering  of  soldiers  had  wrought.  But  she 
had  to  remain  in  London  until  her  baby  was  born,  a 
little  boy  whom  she  insisted  on  calling  Ralph,  though 
her  husband,  feeling  perhaps  that  his  name  was  not  a 
lucky  one,  would  rather  have  chosen  another.  His 
letter  about  the  christening  shows  the  difficulties  under 
which  the  Church  at  that  time  was  struggling  : — 

'  Now  for  the  Christening.  I  pray  give  no  offence 
1  to  the  State ;  should  it  bee  done  in  the  old  way 
'  perhapps  it  may  bring  more  trouble  uppon  you  than 
4  you  can  imagine,  and  all  to  noe  purpose,  for  soe  it 
'  bee  done  with  common  ordinarie  water,  and  that  these 
'  words  "  I  baptise  thee  in  the  name  of  the  Father,  and 
1  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost "  be  used  with  the 
'  water,  I  know  the  child  is  well  baptised.  All  the 
4  rest  is  but  a  matter  of  forme  and  cerimony  which 


MARRIED  LIFE  177 

4  differs  in  almost  every  country,  and  though    I  must 
1  needs   like   one   forme   better  than  another,  yet  wee 

*  must  not  bee  soe  wedded  to  anything  of  that  nature, 
'  as  to   breake  the  union   by  a  needless  seperation  in 
'  such    indifferent    things    of   the    Church.'      Of    her 
receiving  the  Holy  Sacrament  before  her  confinement 
he  wrote  :   '  If  you  cannot  have  convenient  roome  at 
'  Church,  find  out  some  convenient  oppertunity  either 
1  at  Dr.'s  or  elswhere  to  receive  it ;  and  doe  it  quickly, 
'  for  you  know  not  how  soone  you  may  lye  inn.     My 
'  Budd,  this  is  a  Create  Worke,  therefore  chuse  a  time 

*  when  you  have  leaste  businesse  that  you  may  consider 
i  it  more  seariously.' 

So  soon  as  her  health  permitted  she  set  off  for 
Claydon  to  look  into  affairs  there,  having  to  travel 
round  by  Berkhampstead  to  avoid  disturbed  districts. 
As  it  was,  she  narrowly  escaped  a  fight  at  Uxbridge. 
She  wrote  a  hurried  line  on  her  arrival  that  her  husband 
might  not  miss  his  expected  letter,  though  she  said, 
1  I  am  soe  very  weary  that  I  am  scarce  able  to  stand 
'  upon  my  legges.  ...  I  left  them  fighting  at  4  o'clock 

*  this  morning,  but  I  trust  in  god  they  are  apeased  by 
1  this   time.'      Not   improbably   letters   miscarried,   for 
Ralph   seems  to   have  upbraided   her  for  slackness  in 
writing,  and  she  protests.     '  I  assure  you,'  she  says,  *  I 
1  neavor  fayled  one  Thursday  of  wrighting  to  you  since 

*  I  came  over.'     On  another  occasion  she  answers  some 
reproach  of  his  for  not  taking  *  a  noate  of  remembrance.' 
'  My  deare,  thou   doest  chide  me   for  nott  answering 
'  thy  letters :   truly  I   am   confydent  tis   by  chance  if 
4  I  miss  answering  of  every  perticuler ;  for  I  allwayes 
4  lay  thy  letters  before  me  when  I  wright ;  but  however 

*  when  thou  considerest  how  much  I  wright  and  how 
'  ill  a  scribe  I  am,  thou  oughtest  not  to  be  angry  with 

*  me  for  forgetting  now  and  then  a  little.'      Far  from 
her  being   an    '  ill    scribe,'   the   editor   of  the    Verney 
Memoirs  attests  that  the  large  sheets  are  closely  written 

M 


1 78    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

in  a  beautiful  clear  hand,  and  her  spelling  certainly 
compares  very  favourably  with  that  of  some  other  ladies 
of  her  day,  notably  with  Lady  Sussex  and  her  own 
sisters-in-law. 

In  another  letter  she  says :  *  I  have  spent  the  whole 
1  day  searching  amongst  your  papers  for  the  survey 
'  you  writt  for :  I  have  looked  in  all  the  drawers  in 
'  your  further  closett  .  .  .  and  I  think  I  have  opened  a 
'  thousand  papers.'  She  must  indeed  have  been  hard 
at  work  taking  inventories  with  Mrs.  Alcock  the 
housekeeper,  or  going  through  accounts  with  Will 
Roades  the  steward,  and  hardly  had  she  got  things  a 
little  in  order  when  to  her  despair  fresh  troops  were 
quartered  upon  her,  and  there  were  endless  troubles 
with  Ralph's  sisters,  growing  up  undisciplined  and 
unmannerly.  She  got  through  at  last,  and  left  her  new 
baby  there  in  Mrs.  Alcock's  charge,  intending  to  have 
both  children  sent  to  her  when  she  was  ready  to  return 
to  Blois  ;  but  while  she  was  winding  up  her  affairs  in 
London  a  crushing  blow  fell  upon  her.  She  received 
almost  simultaneously  the  news  of  her  baby's  sudden 
death,  and  that  of  the  little  girl  whom  she  had  left  in 
France.  Dr.  Denton,  who  broke  the  news  to  her  as 
tenderly  as  such  bitter  news  could  be  broken,  wrote  to 
her  husband  :  <  It  did  much  afflict  and  distract  her, 
<  soe  that  she  spake  idly  for  two  nights  and  sometimes 
'  did  not  know  her  friends.'  She  rallied  her  powers 
soon  to  bear  the  blow  and  to  comfort  Ralph,  who  was 
almost  beside  himself  with  grief.  As  soon  as  she  was 
free  to  return  she  had  her  little  Jack  sent  up  to  go  with 
her,  and  wrote  careful  and  minute  directions  how  he 
was  to  travel.  Roades  was  to  bring  him,  and  as  he 
was  to  lie  but  one  night  on  the  road  a  maid  would 
not  be  necessary ;  '  but  I  would  have  John  Andrewes 
'  or  some  lustie  fellow  come  up  a  foote  by  your  horse 
'  to  helpe  the  child  if  any  occasion  should  be,  and  lett 
'  him  be  sett  upon  a  pillow  and  wrapped  extreamly  warm 


MARRIED  LIFE  179 

*  with  one  of  the  little  cradle  ruggs  and  a  mantle  about 

<  him.'     Also  he  was  to  have  *  a  pare  of  russett  shoose 
i  pressently,  lined  with  bais,  the  sole  within  the  shooe 
'  to  keepe  him  warme.' 

During  all  her  absence  her  cares  for  her  children  in 
France  had  been  continual,  about  their  lessons,  their 
health,  their  clothes,  their  deportment.  Of  their  danc- 
ing-lessons she  wrote :  *  2  or  3  months  in  the  yeare  is 

<  enough  to  learne  that.  ...  I  like  your  notion  very 

*  well  of  teaching  Mun  to  sing  and  play  on  the  gittarr, 
4  for  itt  is  a  great  deale  of  pitty  he  should  loose  his  time 
'  now  he  is  soe  younge  and  capable  of  breeding :  we 

*  had  better  spare  itt  on  him  heerafter  then  now.'     She 
said  she  would   like  'the  gerle  to  learne  the  lute.      I 
(  am  sory  she  holdes  her  head  soe,  butt  I  hope  it  will 
1  not  now  be  very  long  before  I  am  with  thee,  and  then 

*  I  hope  to  break  her  of  itt. ' 

It  is  certainly  surprising  that  such  a  capable  house- 
wife should  have  sent  the  wrong  size  in  stockings 
for  both  husband  and  son — she  must  indeed  have  been 
distracted  by  her  worries  to  do  such  a  thing,  and  no 
wonder  Ralph  wrote  reproachfully  on  this  occasion. 

*  Now  let  me   tell   you   ye   silke  stockings  are   good, 
4  though  much  to  bigg,  but  that 's  noe  matter,  but  the 
4  thredd  ones  have  made  amends,  for  they  are  soe  little 
4  that  they  will   not  come  over  my  toes ;   my  foote  is 
4  bigger  then   yours,  but   for  your  comfort  these  will 

*  neither    serve    me   nor    you.      As    for   Mun's    grey 
1  stockings   they  are   about   a   handful   too   short  and 
'  almost  an  inch  too  little,  soe  I  have  layed  them  upp 
4  for  your  sonn  John,  and  you  must  buy  Mun  more. 
4  .  .  .  Besse  is  as  well  fitted,  for  Luce  sent  her  a  paire 
4  of  Shooes  that  will  come  as  soon  uppon  her  head  as 
4  uppon  her  Heeles  :  soe  we  laugh  at  you  Both.'     The 
laugh  might  have  been  on  Mary's  side  when  she  had 
instructed  her  husband  :    *  You  must  needs  buy  some 
4  suger  both  fine  and  coarse,  and  some  spice  and  a  few 


i8o    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

'  reasons  and  currents,'  and  he  having  spent  the  money 
on  other  things,  wrote  :  '  I  pray  send  me  the  Harmony 
'  of  Confession  of  Faith  of  all  the  Churches,  and  let  me 
*  know  the  price  of  new  currants  and  raisins.' 

When  at  length  Mary  rejoined  her  husband,  in  April 
1648,  it  was  but  the  wreck  of  his  bright  'Mischiefe' 
that  was  restored  to  him  :  she  had  suffered  too  much. 
The  overwhelming  sorrow  of  her  double  loss,  coming 
upon  her  fatigue  and  weakened  health,  had  been  more 
than  she  could  bear,  with  all  her  courage.  The  return 
to  her  desolate  home,  and  the  daily  realisation  of  the 
loss  of  the  treasured  little  daughter,  about  whom  she 
had  thought  so  much  during  her  long  absence,  must 
have  gone  to  her  heart.  Not  long  after,  she  sickened 
of  consumption,  and  after  a  long  and  devoted  nursing 
Ralph  found  himself  left  alone  to  endure  his  exile  and 
bring  up  his  two  boys  as  best  he  might.  His  letters 
to  Dr.  Denton,  who  had  loved  his  wife  so  well,  and  seen 
so  much  of  her  while  she  was  in  England,  show  him 
absolutely  shattered  with  grief.  Without  her  he  had 
hardly  courage  to  go  on  living  ;  he  took  no  comfort  in 
his  sons,  and  though,  after  travelling  in  Italy  for  some 
months,  he  regained  his  outward  calm,  he  never 
recovered  from  the  blow.  He  lived  to  see  the  Restora- 
tion and  the  Revolution,  but  he  never  put  any  other 
in  Mary's  vacant  place. 

Another  devoted  wife,  who  followed  her  husband 
through  the  evil  days  and  the  good,  was  Lady  Fan- 
shawe,  whose  memoirs,  written  by  herself  for  her 
children,  give  a  most  vivid  picture  of  life  in  the 
troubled  days  of  the  war.  She  was  the  eldest  daughter 
of  Sir  John  Harrison  of  Balls,  in  Hertfordshire,  and 
having  lost  her  mother  early  managed  her  father's 
house.  When  she  was  about  seventeen  her  father, 
having  been  plundered  by  the  Parliament  and  had 
his  estate  sequestrated  for  his  allegiance  to  the  king, 
escaped  and  went  to  Oxford,  desiring  his  daughters  to 


MARRIED  LIFE  181 

join  him  there  as  soon  as  they  could.  The  court  was 
then  at  Oxford,  but  with  very  little  of  courtly  splendour. 
There  was  plenty  of  amusement  and  gaiety,  but  the 
fashionable  crowd  had  to  make  shift  with  what  accom- 
modation they  could  find,  and  put  up  with  considerable 
discomfort.  She  thus  describes  how  she  and  her  sister 
fared  : — *  We  that  had  till  that  hour  lived  in  great 
1  plenty  and  great  order,  found  ourselves  like  fishes  out 

*  of  the  water,  and  the  scene  so  changed  that  we  knew 
4  not  at  all  how  to  act  any  part  but  obedience,  for  from 
1  as  good  a  house  as  any  gentleman  in  England  had, 

*  we  came  to  a  baker's  house  in  an  obscure  street,  and 
4  from  rooms  well  furnished,  to  lie  in  a  very  bad  bed 
1  in  a  garret,  to  one  dish  of  meat,  and  that  not  the  best 

*  ordered,  no  money,  for  we  were  as  poor  as  Job,  nor 
4  clothes  more  than  a  man  or  two  brought  in  their  cloak 
4  bags :  we  had  the  perpetual   discourse  of  losing  or 
1  gaining    towns  and  men  ;    at  the  windows   the   sad 
4  spectacle  of  war,  sometimes  plague,  sometimes  sick- 
4  ness  of  other  kinds,  by  reason  of  so  many  people 
4  being  packed  together,  as  I  believe,  there  never  was 
4  before  of  that  quality  ;   always  in  want,  yet  I  must 
4  needs  say  that  most  bore  it  with  a  martyr-like  cheer- 

*  fulness.      For   my  own   part,   I   began   to   think  we 
4  should  all,  like  Abraham,  live  in  tents  all  the  days  of 
4  our  lives.' 

These  hardships  did  not,  however,  keep  young  people 
from  courting.  Anne  Harrison  no  doubt  looked  as 
charming  in  her  youthful  bloom  in  the  few  tumbled 
clothes  that  came  in  the  cloak-bags  as  she  did  later  in 
all  her  splendour  as  Spanish  ambassadress.  At  any 
rate,  she  won  the  heart  of  Sir  Richard  Fanshawe,  and 
was  married  to  him  in  Wolvercot  Church  upon  the  i8th 
day  of  May  1644.  4  None  was  at  our  wedding' — to 
quote  from  her  own  account — 4  but  my  dear  father,  who 

*  at  my  mother's  desire,  gave  me   her  wedding   ring, 
4  with  which  I  was  married,  and  my  sister  Margaret, 


182     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

*  and  my  brother  and  sister  Boteler,  Sir  Edward 
4  Hyde,  afterwards  Lord  Chancellor,  and  Sir  Geoffrey 
4  Palmer,  the  King's  Attorney.'  The  young  couple 
had  little  enough  to  start  the  world  upon  but  a  great 
store  of  courage,  affection,  and  high  spirit.  In  March 
the  next  year  Sir  Richard  had  to  go  to  Bristol  in 
attendance  upon  the  Prince  of  Wales,  at  a  moment 
very  hard  for  his  young  wife  to  part  with  him,  for  she 
had  just  given  birth  to  her  first  son,  who  was  not  likely 
to  live.  She  writes  : — 

4  It  was  the  first  time  we  had  been  parted  a  day  since 
4  we  married  ;  he  was  extremely  afflicted,  even  to  tears 
4  though  passion  was  against  his  nature  ;  but  the  sense 
4  of  leaving  me  with  a  dying  child,  which  did  die  two 
4  days  after,  in  a  garrison  town,  extremely  weak  and 
4  very  poor,  were  such  circumstances  as  he  could  not 
4  bear  with,  only  on  the  argument  of  necessity  ;  and, 
4  for  my  own  part,  it  cost  me  so  dear  that  I  was  ten 
4  weeks  before  I  could  go  alone  ;  but  he  by  all  oppor- 
1  tunities,  wrote  to  me  to  fortify  myself,  and  to  comfort 
4  me  in  the  company  of  my  father  and  sister,  who  were 
4  both  with  me,  and  that  as  soon  as  the  Lords  of  the 
4  Council  had  their  wives  come  to  them  I  should  come 
4  to  him,  and  that  I  should  receive  the  first  money  that 
4  he  got,  and  he  hoped  it  would  be  suddenly.'  In  May, 
accompanied  by  her  father  and  sister,  she  travelled  to 
Bristol,  and  was  happily  reunited  to  her  husband.  Her 
description  of  their  meeting  and  of  the  little  incident 
that  followed  must  be  told  in  her  own  words  : — 

4  My  husband  had  provided  very  good  lodgings  for  us, 
4  and  as  soon  as  he  could  come  home  from  the  Council, 
4  where  he  was  at  my  arrival,  he  with  all  expressions  of 
4  joy  received  me  in  his  arms,  and  gave  me  a  hundred 
4  pieces  of  gold,  saying,  44 1  know  thou  that  keeps  my 
4  u  heart  so  well  will  keep  my  fortune,  which  from  this 
4  44time  I  will  ever  put  into  thy  hands  as  God  shall 
4  44  bless  me  with  increase."  And  now  I  thought  my- 


MARRIED  LIFE  183 

*  self  a  perfect  queen,  and  my  husband  so  glorious  a 
'  crown,  that  I  more  valued  myself  to  be  called  by  his 
'  name  than  born  a  princess,  for  I  knew  him  very  wise 

*  and  very  good,   and   his   soul   doted   on   me  ;    upon 

*  which  confidence  I  will  tell  you  what  happened.     My 
4  Lady   Rivers,    a  brave  woman,    and    one    that    had 

*  suffered  many  thousand  pounds  loss  for  the   King, 
1  and  whom  I  had  a  great  reverence  for,  and  she  a  kind- 
4  ness  for  me  as  a  kinswoman, — in  discourse  she  tacitly 
<  commended  the  knowledge  of  state  affairs,  and  that 

*  some  women  were  very  happy  in  a  good  understand- 
1  ing  thereof,  as  my  Lady  Aubigny,  Lady  Isabel  Thynne, 
1  and  divers  others,   and  yet  none  was  at  first  more 
'  capable  than   I  ;    that  in  the  night  she   knew  there 
1  came  a  post  from  Paris  from  the  Queen,  and  that  she 
'  would  be  extremely  glad  to  hear  what  the  Queen  com- 

*  manded  the  King  in  order  to  his  affairs  ;  saying,  if  I 
'  would  ask  my  husband  privately,  he  would  tell  me 
1  what  he  found  in  the  packet,  and  I  might  tell  her.     I 
4  that  was  young  and  innocent,  and  to  that  day  had 
4  never  in  my  mouth  what  news,  began  to  think  there 

*  was   more    in    inquiring    into    public   affairs   than    I 
'  thought  of,  and  that  it   being   a    fashionable  thing 

*  would  make  me  more  beloved  of  my  husband,  if  that 
'  had  been  possible,  than  I  was.     When  my  husband 

*  returned  home  from  the  Council,  after  welcoming  him, 
'  as  his  custom  ever  was  he  went  with  his  handful  of 
4  papers  into  his  study  for  an  hour  or  more  ;  I  followed 
4  him  ;    he  turned   hastily   and  said,    "  What  wouldst 
'  thou    have,    my  life?"      I    told    him,    I    heard    the 
'  Prince  had  received  a  packet  from  the  Queen,  and 
'  I  guessed  it  was  that  in  his  hand,  and  I  desired  to 
4  know  what  was  in  it ;  he  smilingly  replied,  "  My  love, 
4  "I  will  immediately  come  to  thee,  pray  thee  go,  for 

*  "  I  am  very  busy."     When  he  came  out  of  his  closet 
'  I  revived  my  suit ;  he  kissed  me,  and  talked  of  other 
'  things.     At  supper  I  would  eat  nothing  ;  he  as  usual 


184    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THF  STUARTS 

4  sat  by  me,  and  drank  often  to  me,  which  was  his 
4  custom,  and  was  full  of  discourse  to  company  that  was 
4  at  table.  Going  to  bed  I  asked  again,  and  said  I 

*  could  not  believe  he  loved  me  if  he  refused  to  tell  me 
4  all  he  knew  ;  but  he  answered  nothing,  but  stopped 
1  my  mouth  with  kisses.     So  he  went  to  bed,  I  cried, 
1  and  he  went  to  sleep.     Next  morning  early,  as  his 

*  custom  was,  he  called  to  rise,  but  began  to  discourse 

*  with  me  first,  to  which  I  made  no  reply  ;    he  rose, 
4  came  on  the  other  side  of  the  bed  and  kissed  me,  and 
4  drew  the  curtains  softly  and  went  to  Court.     When  he 

*  came  home  to  dinner,  he  presently  came  to  me  as  was 
4  usual,  and  when    I    had    him    by  the  hand,  I  said, 
4  "Thou  dost  not  care  to  see  me  troubled"  ;  to  which 

*  he  taking  me  in    his   arms,  answered,   "  My  dearest 
4  44soul,  nothing  upon  earth  can  afflict  me   like  that, 
4  44and  when  you  asked    me  of  my  business,   it  was 
4  44  wholly  out  of  my  power  to  satisfy  thee,  for  my  life 
4  <4  and  fortune  shall  be  thine,  and  every  thought  of  my 
'  44  heart  in  which  the  trust  I  am  in  may  not  be  revealed, 
4  44but  my  honour  is  my  own,  which  I  cannot  preserve 
4  44  if  I  communicate  the  Prince's  affairs  ;  and  pray  thee 
4  44with  this  answer  rest  satisfied."     So  great  was  his 
4  reason  and  goodness,  that  upon  consideration  it  made 
4  my  folly  appear   to   me  so  vile,  that  from  that  day 
4  until  the  day  of  his  death  I  never  thought  fit  to  ask 
4  him  any  business  but  what  he  communicated  freely  to 
4  me  in  order  to  his  estate  or  family.' 

From  Bristol,  on  account  of  the  plague,  the  Prince 
and  his  retinue  moved  to  Barnstaple,  which  it  is  odd 
now  to  find  mentioned  as  4  one  of  the  finest  towns  in 
England.'  4Your  father  and  I,'  she  says,  4  went  two 
4  days  after  the  Prince  ;  for  during  all  the  time  I  was  in 
4  the  Court  I  never  journeyed  but  either  before  him,  or 

*  when  he  was  gone,  nor  ever  saw  him  but  at  church, 
4  for  it  was  not  in  those  days  the  fashion  for  honest 
4  women,  except  they  had    business,  to  visit  a  man's 


MARRIED  LIFE  185 

*  Court.     I  saw  there  at  Mr.   Palmer's  where  we  lay, 
4  who  was  a  merchant,  a  parrot  above  a  hundred  years 
4  old.      They   have,    near  this   town,  a  fruit  called  a 
4  massard,   like   a   cherry,   but  different   in   taste,  and 

*  makes  the  best  pies  with  their  sort  of  cream  I  ever 
1  eat.'     From  thence  they  proceeded  to  Launceston,  in 
Cornwall,  'and  thither  came  very  many  gentlemen  of 
4  that  county  to  do  their  duties  to  his  Highness :  they 
4  were  generally  loyal  to  the  crown  and  hospitable  to  their 

*  neighbours,  but  they  are  of  a  crafty  and  censorious 
4  nature,  as  most  are  so  far  from  London.    That  country 
4  hath  great   plenty,  especially  of  fish  and  fowl,  but 

*  nothing  near  so  fat  and  sweet  as  within  forty  miles  of 
'  London.' 

At  Truro,  where  they  were  quartered,  her  house  was 
attacked  in  her  husband's  absence,  and  would  have  been 
plundered  but  for  the  valiant  defence  she  and  her  few 
servants  made.  The  thieves,  it  was  supposed,  had  dis- 
covered that  Sir  Richard  had  a  little  trunk  of  jewels 
belonging  to  the  prince  in  his  keeping.  A  more 
serious  robbery  befell  them  on  the  voyage  to  the  Scilly 
Islands,  for  which  the  prince  and  his  retinue  embarked 
the  next  year.  The  seamen  had  mutinied,  and  Sir 
Richard  having  appeased  them  had  taken  out  money 
to  pay  them,  having  all  his  money  and  valuables  in  two 
trunks  on  board.  The  night  following,  she  says  in  her 
graphic  way,  i  they  broke  open  one  of  our  trunks,  and 
4  took  out  a  bag  of  £60  and  a  quantity  of  gold  lace  with 

*  our  best  clothes  and  linen,  with  all  my  combs,  gloves, 
1  and  ribbons,  which  amounted  to  near  £300  more.    The 
4  next  day,  after  having  been  pillaged,  and  extremely 
4  sick  and  big  with  child,  I  was  set  on  shore  almost 
4  dead  in  the  Island  of  Scilly.    When  we  had  got  to  our 
4  quarters  near  the  Castle,  where  the  Prince  lay,  I  went 
4  immediately  to  bed,  which  was  so  vile,  that  my  foot- 
4  man  ever  lay  in  a  better,  and  we  had  but  three  in  the 
4  whole  house,  which  consisted  of  four  rooms,  or  rather 


1 86    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

4  partitions,  two  low  rooms  and  two  little  lofts,  with  a 
4  ladder  to  go  up  :  in  one  of  these  they  kept  dried  fish, 
1  which  was  his  trade,  and  in  this  my  husband's  two 
4  clerks  lay,  one  there  was  for  my  sister,  and  one  for 
4  myself,  and  one  amongst  the  rest  of  the  servants. 
4  But,  when  I  waked  in  the  morning,  I  was  so  cold  I 
4  knew  not  what  to  do,  but  the  daylight  discovered  that 
4  my  bed  was  near  swimming  with  the  sea,  which  the 
4  owner  told  us  afterwards  it  never  did  so  but  at  spring- 
4  tide.  With  this  we  were  destitute  of  clothes, — and 
4  meat,  and  fuel,  for  half  the  Court  to  serve  them  a 
6  month  was  not  to  be  had  in  the  whole  island  ;  and 
4  truly  we  begged  our  daily  bread  of  God,  for  we 
4  thought  every  meal  our  last.  The  Council  sent  for 
4  provisions  to  France,  which  served  us,  but  they  were 
4  bad,  and  a  little  of  them.  Then  after  three  weeks 
*  and  odd  days,  we  set  sail  for  the  Isle  of  Jersey, 
4  where  we  safely  arrived,  praised  be  God,  beyond 
4  the  belief  of  all  the  beholders  from  that  island  ;  for 
4  the  pilot,  not  knowing  the  way  into  the  harbour, 
4  sailed  over  the  rocks,  but  being  spring  tide,  and 
4  by  chance  high  water,  God  be  praised,  his  High- 
4  ness  and  all  of  us  came  safe  ashore  through  so  great 
4  a  danger.' 

Here  in  the  house  of  the  comfortable  widow  of  a 
stocking-merchant,  she  gave  birth  to  a  daughter,  and 
recovered  a  little  from  her  hardships  and  fatigues. 
Space  would  fail  to  narrate  all  her  perils  and  hair- 
breadth escapes  by  sea  and  land — it  must  suffice  to 
cull  a  few  specimens.  Not  long  after  leaving  Jersey, 
on  the  route  to  France  by  way  of  Portsmouth,  she  and 
her  husband,  walking  by  the  sea-side,  about  a  mile 
from  their  lodging,  probably  on  Southsea  Common, 
were  nearly  struck  by  bullets  from  two  Dutch  ships  at 
Spithead.  The  shot  passed  them  so  close  she  could 
hear  them  whizz,  and,  calling  to  her  husband  to  make 
haste,  she  began  to  run,  4but  he  altered  not  his  pace, 


MARRIED  LIFE  187 

'  saying,   "If  we  must  be  killed,  it  were  as  good  to  be 
'  killed  walking  as  running." 

Later  they  were  sent  to  Madrid,  the  king  having 
given  Sir  Richard  credentials  for  Spain,  with  private 
instructions.  While  his  Majesty  was  at  Hampton 
Court  she  went  three  times  to  pay  her  duty  to  him, 
and  of  her  last  visit  she  gives  a  very  touching  account. 
'  The  last  time  I  ever  saw  him,  when  I  took  my  leave, 
'  I  could  not  refrain  from  weeping :  when  he  had 
'  saluted  me,  I  prayed  to  God  to  preserve  his  Majesty 
'  with  long  life  and  happy  years ;  he  stroked  me  on 
4  the  cheek,  and  said,  "Child,  if  God  pleaseth,  it  shall 
'  "  be  so,  but  both  you  and  I  must  submit  to  God's  will, 
'  "  and  you  know  in  what  hands  I  am  "  ;  then  turning 
'  to  your  father,  he  said,  "  Be  sure,  Dick,  to  tell  my  son 
'  "all  that  I  have  said,  and  deliver  those  letters  to  my 

<  "  wife  ;  pray  God  bless  her  !    I  hope  I  shall  do  well  "  ; 
4  and  taking  him  in  his  arms,  said,   "Thou  hast  ever 
'  "  been  an  honest  man,  and  I  hope  God  will  bless  thee, 
'  "  and  make  thee  a  happy  servant  to  my  son,  whom  I 

<  "  have  charged  in  my  letter  to  continue  his  love,  and 

*  "  trust  to  you"  ;  adding,   "  I  do  promise  you  that  if 
'  "  ever  I  am  restored  to  my  dignity  I  will  bountifully 
'  "  reward  you  both  for  your  service  and  sufferings." 
'  Thus  did  we  part  from  that  glorious  sun,  that  within 

*  a  few  months  after  was  murdered,  to  the  grief  of  all 
1  Christians  that  were  not  forsaken  by  God.' 

Lady  Fanshawe's  experiences  in  Spain  properly  be- 
long to  a  later  day,  but  one  incident  of  the  voyage  out 
must  be  narrated.  It  shows  the  *  hoyting  girl '  as  full 
of  pluck  and  high  spirit  as  of  devotion  to  her  husband. 
They  were  threatened  and  nearly  boarded  by  a  Turkish 
man-of-war,  and  the  women  had  been  locked-up  below 
to  be  out  of  danger  and  out  of  the  way.  But  the  story 
should  be  told  in  her  own  words : — *  This  beast,  the 

*  Captain,  had  locked  me  up  in  the  cabin  ;   I  knocked 

*  and  called  long  to  no  purpose,  until  at  length  the 


i88    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

'  cabin  boy  came  and  opened  the  door  ;  I,  all  in  tears, 

<  desired  him  to  be  so  good  as  to  give  me  his  blue 
1  thrum  cap  he  wore,  and  his  tarred  coat,  which  he  did, 
'  and   I   gave  him  half-a-crown,  and  putting  them  on 

<  and  flinging  away  my  night  clothes,  I  crept  softly  up 
'  and  stood  upon  the  deck  by  my  husband's  side,  as 
1  free  from  sickness  and  fear,  as  I  confess,  from  dis- 
4  cretion  ;  but  it  was  the  effect  of  that  passion  which  I 
*  could  never  master.' 

That  was  all  she  ever  asked — to  be  by  her  husband's 
side.  As  she  said  on  a  former  occasion,  when  she  had 
to  remain  behind  while  he  proceeded  to  Holland  and 
thence  to  Ireland,  when  at  length  he  was  able  to  send 
for  her, — *  We  went  by  Bristol  very  cheerfully  towards 
my  North  star,  that  only  had  the  power  to  fix  me.' 


CHAPTER    XIII 

SOME   LETTERS    FROM   HUSBANDS   AND   WIVES 

THE  letters  of  the  Lady  Brilliana,  the  Puritan  wife  of 
Sir  Robert  Harley,  though  very  affectionate,  are  charac- 
terised by  a  meek  and  submissive  tone,  in  great  contrast 
to  the  easy  confidence  between  Lady  Fanshawe  or  Lady 
Verney  and  their  husbands.  She  seems  to  have  stood 
in  some  awe  of  Sir  Robert,  and  poured  out  her  heart 
far  more  unreservedly  to  her  beloved  eldest  son  Ned, 
when  he  had  left  her  to  go  to  Oxford.  Always  more  or 
less  of  an  invalid,  and  pious  after  the  strictest  Puritan 
fashion,  she  led  a  very  retired  life,  and  her  letters  are 
chiefly  valuable  for  their  domestic  details,  and  for  the 
idea  they  give  of  religious  feeling  and  practice  amongst 
those  of  her  school  of  thought ;  not  least  for  the 
extremely  quaint  touches  on  the  subject  of  illness  and 
physic,  in  which  she  took  an  absorbing  interest,  for, 
like  most  invalids,  she  loved  prescribing  for  the  ail- 
ments of  others.  In  her  early  married  days  she 
addressed  Sir  Robert  in  her  letters  as  '  Sir ' ;  later  she 
warmed  into  '  Deare  Sir,'  but  never  arrived  at  any 
more  familiar  term  than  '  Dearest  Sir,'  when  they  had 
been  married  five  or  six  years. 

Letters  from  Puritan  ladies  are  for  some  reason 
scarce,  so  a  few  of  these  shall  be  quoted.  Mrs. 
Hutchinson,  who  was  so  excellent  a  scribe,  was  rarely 
absent  from  her  husband,  nor  Lady  Warwick  from 

189 


HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

hers,  so  Lady  Brilliana    must  represent  the    Puritan 
type  of  correspondence  : — 


'  To  my  deare  husband  Sr  Robert  Harley,  Knight. 

'  DEARE  SR, — Your  two  leters,  on  from  hearifort  and 

*  the  other  from  Gloster,  weare  very  wellcome  to  me  ; 
'  and  if  you  knwe  howe  gladly  I  reseave  your  leters,  I 
'  beleeve  you  would   neever  let  any  opertunity  pase. 

*  I  hope  your  cloche  did  you  sarvis  betwne  Gloster  and 
'  my  brother  Brays,  for  with  us  it  was  a  very  rainy  day, 
'  but  this  day  has  bine  very  dry  and  warme,  and  so  I 
4  hope  it  was  with  you  ;  and  to-morowe  I  hope  you  will 
'  be  well  at  your  journis  end,  wheare  I  wisch  my  self  to 

*  bide  you  wellcome  home.     You  see  howe  my  thoughts 
'  goo  with  you  ;  and  as  you  have  many  of  mine,  so  let 
4  me  have  some  of  yours.      Beleeve   me,  I   thinke   I 
'  never  miste  you  more  then  now  I  doo,  or  ells  I  have 
'  forgoot  what  is  past.     I  thanke  God,  Ned  and  Robin 
'  are  well,  and  Ned  askes  every  day  wheare  you  are, 
'  and  he  says  you  will  come  to-moreowe.     My  father  is 
4  well,  but  goos  not  abrode  becaus  of  his  fiseke.     I 

*  have  sent  you  up  a  litell  hamper,  in  which  is  the  box 
'  with  the  ryteings  and  boouckes  you  bid  me  send  up, 
1  with  the  other  things  sowed  up  in  a  clothe,  in  the 
4  botome  of  the  hamper.     I  have  sent  you  a  partriche 
'  pye,  which  has  the  two  pea  chikeins  in  it,  and  a  litell 

*  runlet  of  meathe,  that  which  I  toold  you  was  made  for 
1  my  father.    I  thinke  within  this  munthe,  it  will  be  very 
'  good  drinke.      I  send  it  up  nowe  because  I  thinke 
'  carage  when   it  is   ready  to   drincke    dous   it  hurt ; 
'  thearefore,  and  please  you  to  let  it  rest  and  then  taste 
4  it ;   if  it  be  good,  I  pray  you  let  my  father  have  it, 
'  because  he  spake  to  me  for  such  a  meathe.     I  will 
'  nowe  bide  you  god  night,  for  it  is  past  a  leaven  a 
4  cloke.     I  pray  God  presarve  you  and  give  you  good 


LETTERS  FROM  HUSBANDS  AND  WIVES    191 

'  sugsess  in  all  your  biusnes,  and  a  speedy  and  happy 
4  meeting  with  your  most  faithful  affectinat  wife, 

BRILLIANA  HARLEY. 

*  I  must  beeg  your  bllsing  for  Ned  and  Rob.   and 
4  present  you  with  Ned's  humbell  duty. 
'  BROMTON  the  5  of  October,  1627.' 

4  To  my  deare  husband  Sr  Robert  Harley,  Knight. 

4  MY  DEARE  SR, — I  ame  glad  of  this  opertuenity  to 
4  present  you  with  the  remembranc  of  my  deare  love. 
4  I  hope  you  came  well  to  Bristol ;  and  I  much  longe 
4  to  heare  from  you,  but  more  a  thousand  times  to  see 
4  you,  which  I  presume  you  will  not  beleeve,  becaus 
4  you  cannot  pocsibilly  measure  my  love.  I  thanke 
4  God  your  father  is  well,  and  so  are  your  three  soons. 
4  Ned  presents  his  humbell  duty  to  you,  and  I  beeg 
4  your  bllsing  for  them  all ;  and  I  pray  God  give  you 
4  a  happy  and  speady  meeting  with  your  most  affectinat 
4  wife,  BRILL.  HARLEY. 

4  If  I  thought  it  would  hasten  your  comeing  home,  I 
4  would  intreat  you  to  doo  soo. 

4 1  pray  you  remember  me  to  Mr.  Pirson.     I  thanke 
4  God  all  at  his  howes  are  well. 
4  BROMTON,  the  7th,  1628.' 

4  To  my  deare  husband  Sr  Robert  Harley,  Knight. 

4  MY  DEARE  SR, — I  thanke  you  for  your  letter,  which 
4  I  reseaved  this  weake  by  the  carrier,  and  I  thanke  God 
4  for  my  father's  health.  I  trust  in  our  good  God,  in 
4  his  own  time,  he  will  give  a  happy  end  to  your 
4  biusnes.  I  have  rwitten  a  letter  to  my  father,  which 
4  I  send  you  heare  inclosed.  If  you  thinke  it  will  not 
4  displeas  him,  and  it  may  anything  at  all  seet  forward 
'  your  biusnes,  I  pray  you  delever  it  to  him.  If  you 
'  do  delever  it  to  my  father,  I  pray  you  seale  it  first. 
'  Alias !  my  deare  Sr,  I  knowe  you  doo  not  to  the  on 


i92    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

*  halfe  of  my  desires,  desire  to  see  me,  that  loves  you 
4  more  than  any  earthly  thinge.     I  should  be  glad  if 

*  you  would  but  rwite  me  word,  when  I  should  hope 
4  to  see  you.     Need  has  bine  ever  sence  Sunday  trubled 
4  with  the  rume  in  his  fase  very  much.  .  .  .  The  swelling 
4  of  his  face  made  him  very  dull ;  but  nowe,  I  thanke 

*  God,    he   is  better,    and   begins   to    be   merry.      He 
4  inquires    for  Jhon   Walls   comeing    downe ;    for   he 

*  thinkes  he  will  bringe  him  a  letter.     I  must  desire 

*  you  to  send  me  downe  a  littell  Bibell  for  him.     He 
4  would  not  let  me  be  in  peace,  tell  I  promised  him  to 
4  send  for  on.     He  begings  nowe  to  delight  in  reading  ; 
4  and  that  is  the  booke  I  would  have  him  place  his 
1  delight  in.     Tom  has  still  a  great  coold  ;   but  he  is 
'  not,  I  thanke  God,  sike  with  it.     Brill  and  Robin,  I 
4  thanke  God,  are  well ;  and  Brill  has  two  teethe.     Ned 
4  presents  his  humbell  duty  to  you,  and  I  beeg  your 
4  bllsing  for  them  all :    and  I  beceach  the  Allmighty 
4  to  prosper  you  in  all  you  doo,  and   to  give  you  a 
4  happy   meeting   with    your   most  faithfull   affectinat 
<  wife,  BRILLIANA  HARLEY. 

4 1  pray  you,  Sr,  send  downe  no  silk  grogram.  I 
4  hope  you  have  reseved  the  silver  candell-stike. 

4  Your  father,  I  thanke  God,  is  much  better  then  he 
4  was.      I  pray  you,  Sr,  present  my  best  love  to  my 
4  sister  Wacke. 
4Desem.  4,  1629.' 

4  To  my  deare  husband  Sr  Robert  Harley,  Knight,  at  his 
howse  in  Alldermanbery . 

4  MY  DEAREST  SR, — Your  men  came  to  Bromton  on 
4  thursday  last.  I  thanke  God  that  you  have  your 
4  helth.  I  hope  the  Lord  will  give  us  bothe  faith  to 
4  waite  upon  him  ;  and  I  trust  that  in  his  mercy  he  will 
4  give  a  good  end  to  your  biusnes.  It  pleases  God  that 
4  I  continue  ill  with  my  coold,  but  it  is,  as  they  say, 


LETTERS  FROM  HUSBANDS  AND  WIVES    193 

<  a  nwe  disceas  :  it  trubelles  me  much,  more  becaus  of 
1  my  being  with  childe  ;  but  I  hope  the  Lord  will  deale 
'  in  mercy  with  me  ;  and,  deare  Sir,  let  me  have  your 

<  prayers,  for  I  have  need  of  them.     Doctor  Barker  is 
4  nowe  with  me.     I  thanke  God,  the  childeren  are  all 
'  well,  and  Need  and  Robine  are  very  glad  of  theire 
'  boose,  and  Ned  is  much  discontended  that  you  come 
1  not  downe.      I  beeg  your  bllsing  for  them  all,  be- 
'  ceaching  the  Allmighty  to  presarve  you,  and  to  give 
'  you  a  joyeful   and   happy  meeting  with  'your   most 

*  faithfull  affectinat  wife,  BRIL.  HARLEY. 

' 1  pray  present  my  humbell  duty  to  my  father.     This 

*  day  theare  came  a  man  from  Ragley  to  feetche  my 
'  cosen  Hunkes  to  her  mother,  whoo  is  very  sike. 

'  BROMTON,  the  8th  of  May  1630.' 

The  letters  to  Sir  Robert  are  not  very  numerous,  and 
all  in  a  very  similar  strain.  Those  to  her  son  are  more 
expansive  and  chatty,  and  as  she  wrote  to  him  at  least 
once  a  week  throughout  the  three  or  four  years  of  his 
absence,  they  fill  a  volume.  She  seems  to  have  been  a 
gentle,  affectionate  creature,  rather  low-spirited,  with 
constant  ill-health  and  many  children. 

Another  very  submissive  wife  to  a  far  less  kind 
husband  was  Elizabeth,  wife  of  Sir  Henry  Gary,  after- 
wards Lord  Falkland,  the  same  who  has  already  made 
her  appearance  in  these  pages  as  the  little  bookworm 
Elizabeth  Tanfield.1  The  daughter  who  was  her  bio- 
grapher describes,  as  has  already  been  quoted,  how 
carefully  she  taught  her  children  to  love  and  honour 
their  father,  and  thus  speaks  of  her  constant  anxiety 
to  please  him  :  '  He  was  very  absolute,  and  though  she 
1  had  a  strong  will  she  had  learned  to  make  it  obey 

*  his.'     She    gave    proof  of  the   strength   of    hers    in 
conquering  her   natural   fears,    generally   the    hardest 

1  The  Lady  Falkland,  her  Life. 

N 


i94    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

of  tasks.  '  And  being  most  fearful  of  a  horse,  both 
4  before  and  after,  she  did  (he  loving  hunting,  and 
'  desiring  to  have  her  a  good  horsewoman)  for  many 
'  a  year  ride  so  much  and  so  desperately  as  if  she 
'  had  no  fear  but  much  delight  in  it ;  and  so  she  had 
'  to  see  him  pleased,  and  did  really  make  herself  love 
i  it  as  long  as  that  lasted  ;  but  after  (as  before)  she 
i  neither  had  the  courage  nor  the  skill  to  sit  upon  a 
'  horse.  Dressing  was  all  her  life  a  torture  to  her  ; 
1  yet  because  he  would  have  it  so,  she  willingly  sup- 
'  ported  it  all  the  while  she  lived  with  him  in  her 
1  younger  days,  even  to  tediousness  ;  but  all  that  ever 
1  she  could  do  towards  it,  was  to  have  those  about 
'  her  that  could  do  it  well,  and  to  take  order  that  it 
'  should  be  done,  and  then  endure  the  trouble ;  for 
'  though  she  was  very  careful  it  should  be  so,  she  was 
1  not  able  to  attend  to  it  at  all,  nor  ever  was  her  mind 
4  the  least  engaged  in  it,  but  her  women  were  fain  to 
'  walk  round  the  room  after  her  (which  was  her 
'  custom)  while  she  was  seriously  thinking  on  some 
'  other  business,  and  pin  on  her  things  and  braid  her 
'  hair ;  and  while  she  writ  or  read,  to  curl  her  hair  and 
'  dress  her  head. 

'  It  did  sufficiently  appear  how  alone  for  his  will  she 
i  did  undergo  the  trouble  by  the  extraordinary  great 
'  carelessness  she  had  of  herself  after  he  was  angry 
'  with  her ;  from  which  time  she  never  went  out  of 
'  plain  black,  frieze  or  coarse  stuff  or  cloth.' 

At  this  time  also  she  took  to  walking  for  economy 
(which  she  would  not  do  before  to  vex  her  husband 
or  older  sons),  so  left  off  wearing  chopines,  *  which 
<  she  had  ever  wore,  being  very  low,  and  a  long  time 
4  very  fat.' 

It  speaks  volumes  for  the  genuine  disinterestedness 
of  her  conversion  to  the  Roman  Catholic  faith,  that 
for  that  cause,  and  that  alone,  she  was  willing  to  brave 
her  husband's  bitterest  displeasure,  well  knowing  all 


LETTERS  FROM  HUSBANDS  AND  WIVES    195 

that  it  would  cost  her.  Both  self-interest  and  personal 
conviction  made  Lord  Falkland  furious  with  her,  and 
he  tried  to  stir  up  the  king  to  put  in  force  against  her 
the  laws  against  Recusants,  which  Charles,  who  loved 
his  Catholic  wife  and  had  many  loyal  Catholic  subjects, 
would  fain  have  suffered  to  lie  idle  in  the  statute-book. 
Thus  urged,  and  no  doubt  aware  that  to  show  any 
favour  to  converts  was  at  that  moment  dangerously 
impolitic,  the  king  issued  an  order  that  she  should  be 
given  into  her  mother's  custody,  probably  not  aware 
that,  would  she  have  received  her,  the  mother  was 
the  most  cruel  gaoler  the  poor  daughter  could  have 
had.  This  was  Lady  Tanfield's  letter  on  the  subject : — 

'  BES, — I  will  not  exsept  of  you,  and  if  by  any 
'  exterordenary  devis  he  cold  compel  you,  you  shall 
'  fynde  the  worst  of  it.  For  my  part  you  may  lyve 
4  wher  you  pies/ 

Exiled  from  her  husband's  house  and  without  any 
means  of  support,  since  her  father,  from  whom  she  had 
such  large  expectations,  being  an  only  child,  passed 
her  over  in  his  will,  she  was  reduced  to  the  utmost 
penury.  One  faithful  servant,  Bessie  Poulter  by  name, 
loyally  followed  her  fortunes,  though  it  was  often  diffi- 
cult to  find  bread  for  mistress  and  maid.  She  was  far 
too  proud  as  well  as  too  anxious  for  her  husband's 
reputation  to  let  her  Catholic  friends  know  to  what 
straits  she  was  reduced  ;  4  yet,  not  to  let  her  faithful 
'  servant  suffer  in  it,  she  sent  her  to  my  Lord  of 

*  Ormonde's  to   meals   but  with   a  charge  to  conceal 

*  her  case  ;   and  she  to  give  her  lady  what  help  she 
'  could,  and  yet  obey  her,  did  from  the  table  privately 
1  take  and  put  into  a  handkerchief  some  pieces  of  pie- 
'  crust  or  bread  and  butter  or  other  such  thing,  which 
'  bringing  home  to  her,  were  all  she  had  to  live  on 
'  some  days.' 

She  refused  to  make  any  complaint  or  application 
on  her  own  behalf  that  might  injure  or  annoy  her 


196    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

husband,  and  struggled  on  living  with  Bessie  in  a 
mean  little  house  near  London.  It  is  good  to  know 
that  her  loving  patience  was  at  last  rewarded  by  the 
restoration  of  Lord  Falkland's  affection.  He  must  have 
been  touched  by  her  fidelity,  for  a  little  while  before 
his  death  he  was  arranging  for  her  to  live  with  him 
again,  and  having  taken  a  house  in  the  country  was 
actually  designing  a  chapel  for  her  and  a  place  for 
her  priests  to  live  in.  The  knowledge  of  his  intention 
was  all  the  comfort  vouchsafed  to  her ;  her  Indian 
summer  the  dear  creature  was  never  to  know.  While 
these  plans  were  being  made  he  met  with  an  accident 
while  out  shooting  in  attendance  on  the  king  at 
Theobalds,  or  Tibbalds,  as  it  was  then  called,  and 
broke  his  leg.  He  was  carried  into  a  lodge  and  the 
king's  surgeon  immediately  sent  for.  The  doctor, 
however,  seems  to  have  been  more  intent  on  the  state 
of  his  patient's  soul  than  on  that  of  his  body  ;  for  the 
wound,  mismanaged,  gangrened,  and  the  leg  had  to 
be  amputated.  This  must  have  been  unskilfully  done, 
for  haemorrhage  came  on,  and  the  doctors  being  'at 
tables '  were  long  before  they  came.  When  they  did 
arrive,  they  remarked  there  was  nothing  to  be  done, 
and  having  some  suspicion  that  his  heart  was  inclining 
to  his  wife's  faith,  they  pestered  him  for  assurances 
that  he  died  a  Protestant.  <  But  he  turned  his  head 
'  away,  begging  that  they  would  not  disturb  his  silent 
1  meditations.'  His  wife  had  been  summoned,  and  he 
died  with  his  hand  in  hers. 

Another  pair,  whom  not  only  differences  in  religious 
views,  but  hot  and  hasty  tempers  might  easily  have 
divided,  were  Endymion  Porter,  Gentleman  of  the 
Bedchamber  to  Charles  i.,  and  his  handsome,  high- 
spirited  wife.  He  married  very  young,  having  fallen 
in  love  with  Olivia  Boteler,  the  beautiful  young  cousin 
of  his  friend  and  patron  the  great  Duke  of  Buckingham. 


LETTERS  FROM  HUSBANDS  AND  WIVES    197 

His  duties  at  court  in  attendance  on  Charles,  then 
Prince  of  Wales,  took  him  away  from  his  wife  for  a 
great  part  of  every  week,  and  to  this  circumstance  we 
owe  a  delightful  series  of  domestic  letters  made  public 
a  few  years  ago  in  a  most  interesting  volume.  These 
letters  were  preserved  in  a  singular  manner.  From 
his  having  been  in  such  close  attendance  on  the  king 
and  known  to  be  much  in  his  confidence,  as  well  as 
from  the  circumstance  of  his  wife  having  joined  the 
Church  of  Rome  and  being  a  favourite  with  the  queen 
and  the  Catholic  party,  he,  although  an  Anglican, 
was  suspected  of  complicity  in  all  manner  of  imaginary 
Popish  plots,  and  when  his  house  at  Woodhall  was 
sacked,  his  letters  were  carried  off  as  important  booty. 
They  remained  for  more  than  a  couple  of  centuries 
buried  in  the  State  Paper  Office,  and  when  unearthed 
proved  to  be  nothing  more  dangerous  than  the  ordinary 
everyday  letters  of  a  very  affectionate  though  not  fault- 
less husband,  to  an  adored  but  sometimes  uncommonly 
provoking  wife.  Very  few  of  hers  have  been  pre- 
served, not  having  had  the  luck  to  be  suspected  as 
treasonable  documents. 

From  Endymion's  frequent  mention  of  Friday,  it 
appears  that  he  got  a  day  off  at  the  end  of  the  week, 
possibly  from  Friday  to  Monday,  to  enjoy  his  wife's 
society.  These  are  a  few  of  the  letters,  culled  here 
and  there,  with  Mrs.  Townshend's  kind  permission, 
to  show  the  terms  on  which  one  of  these  '  malignant ' 
courtiers  was  with  his  wife. 

<  To  my  dear  wife,  Olive  Porter,  these. 

'My    SWEET    OLIVE,— I    can   attain   to   no    content 

*  till   I    be   made  happy  in  the  sight  of  thy  pleasing 

*  countenance.     Therefore  do  not  again  imagine  that 

*  I  will  make  the  time  longer  than  necessity  may  force 
'  me,   but  rather  shorten   it  with   all   the   hopes   and 


i98    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

4  desires  these   two   days  can   afford.      Friday  is  the 

*  good  one  that  will  increase  mine,  by  seeing  myself 
'  owner  of  so  much  goodness  and  virtue  as  is  in  thee. 
'  Be  thou  still  so  religious  that  thy  prayers  may  pre- 

*  serve  me  from  dangers,  then  shall  I  have  two  good 
1  angels  to  keep  me  from  the  inconvenience  my  bad 
'  one  would  draw  me  in  ;   and  so  shall   you  also  be 

*  sure   to   enjoy   the  fruits   of  it  in   making   me   your 
4  true  loving  husband,  ENDYMION  PORTER.' 

There  are  many  in  the  same  strain  addressed  to  '  My 
dearest  Love,'  *  My  dear  Heart/  'My  only  Love.' 
He  writes  to  her  very  tenderly  on  the  birth  of  their 
eldest  boy.  In  the  postscript  of  one  letter  is  a  refer- 
ence to  the  christening :  *  On  Wednesday  your  young 
gentleman  will  be  Georgified :  Pray  God  bless  it.' 
Later  on  we  hear  of  little  George's  teething.  In 
another :  '  God  bless  thy  child,  and  make  him  a  Saint 
4  George,  and  let  not  your  prayers  be  wanting  for 

*  your  true  friend  and  loving  husband.' 

It  was,  no  doubt,  a  little  trying  for  Olivia  to  have 
Endymion,  who  was  handsome,  friendly,  and  sociable, 
so  much  away  from  her,  and  she  occasionally  seems 
to  have  upbraided  him  for  attentions  which  she  con- 
sidered excessive  to  pretty  women  of  his  acquaintance, 
and  she  had  evidently  written  to  him  some  sharp 
animadversions  on  a  proposed  visit  to  Saxham,  the 
house  of  Sir  John  Croft,  near  Newmarket.  Sir  John 
had  three  lovely  and  witty  daughters,  one  of  whom, 
Cicely,  married  Sir  Thomas  Killigrew,  a  Cornishman, 
another  Gentleman  of  the  Bedchamber.  King  James 
was  extremely  fond  of  visiting  there,  and  on  one  occa- 
sion was  entertained  with  a  gorgeous  masque  such  as 
he  loved.  To  Olive's  reproaches  Endymion  replies  in 
a  letter  written  in  evident  low  spirits,  ending,  *  I  will 
'  never  forget  to  be  thy  true  loving  husband,  that 
1  will  not  go  to  Saxum,  Endymion  Porter.' 


LETTERS  FROM  HUSBANDS  AND  WIVES    199 

There  is  a  very  affectionate  letter  written  after  a  visit 
to  Aston,  whither  he  had  gone  alone. 

*  To  my  dear  w^fe,  Olive  Porter. 

6  Do  not  think  it  any  neglect  in  me  my  not  coming 

*  to  see  you  since  my  departure,  for  as  I  hope  to  be 
<  saved,  there  is  nothing  in  the  world  so  pleasing  as 

*  thy  sight,  nor  a  greater  affliction  for  me  than  thine 
'  absence.    I  was  at  Aston  where  I  had  the  happiness  to 
4  see  thy  picture,  and  that  did  somewhat  please  me,  but 

*  when  I  found  it  wanted  that  pretty  discourse  which  thy 

*  sweet  company  doth  afford  I  kist  it  with  a  great  deal 
'  of  devotion,  and  with  many  wishes  for  the  original, 
4  there  I  left  it.      Now  I   am  coming  nearer  towards 

*  you,  but  I  cannot  as  yet  have  as  great  a  blessing  as 

*  these  lines  shall  have,  to  be  seen  by  you,  but  when 
4  the  King  comes  to  Windsor  I  will  hazard  the  loss 

*  of  all  my  friends,  rather  than  be  a  day  longer  from 
1  you.      In  the  meantime  let  our  souls  kiss   and   my 
'  faith   and  true  love  shall  never  fail   to  assure  thee 
'  that  though  fortune  hath  not  given  you  a  rich  and 

*  powerful  man,  yet  God  hath  bestowed  on  you  one 

*  that  will  live  and  die  your  true  loving  husband, 

ENDYMION  PORTER.' 

Soon  he  had  to  travel  into  Spain  in  attendance  on 
the  prince.  Just  before  sailing  he  writes  to  his  wife  : — 

' 1  would  have  you  send  Charles  and  the  Spaniard 
'  along  with  the  Prince's  servants  that  come  by  sea. 
'  They  are  to  be  allowed  as  my  men  to  come  in  the  ship, 
4  and  let  them  bring  me  one  dozen  of  shirts,  and  little 
1  George  his  picture,  and  yours  in  the  gold  case  that 

*  is  at  Gerbier's,  and  half  a  dozen  pairs  of  silk  stockings, 

*  three  black  and  three  coloured,  and  your  chain   of 
'  diamonds,  and  let  me  entreat  you  to  make  much  of 

*  yourself  that  I  may  hear  of  your  health,  which  news 
'  will  somewhat  mitigate  the  pain  of  this  absence.' 


200    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

It  was  a  pity  that  after  this  warm-hearted  letter  Olive 
should  have  had  her  mind  poisoned  by  some  silly  gossip 
which  reached  her  from  France.  Evidently  she  must 
have  written  with  some  sharpness,  to  which  he  thus 
replies  : — 

i  MY  DEAR  OLIVE, — Since  my  coming  into  Spain  I 
'  have  received  four  letters  from  you,  and  the  first  two 

*  with  so  much  kindness  in  them  as  I  thought  my  love 
'  rewarded  ;  but  the  two  last  are  so  full  of  mistrusts  and 
'  falsehoods,  that  I  rather  fear  you  have  changed  your 

*  affection,  than  that  you  have  any  sure  grounds  for 
'  what  you  accuse  me  of  in  them,  for  as  I  hope  for  mercy 

*  at  God's  hands  I  neither  kist  nor  touched  any  woman 

*  since  I  left  you,  and  for  the  innkeeper's  daughter  at 
1  Boulogne,  I  was  so  far  from  kissing  her,  that  as  I 

*  hope  to  be  saved  I  cannot  remember  that  I  saw  any 
'  such  woman.     No,  Olive,  I  am  not  a  dissembler,  for 

<  I  assure  you  that  the  grief  which  I  suffered  at  the 
'  parting  with  you  gave  me  no  leave  to  entertain  any 
'  such  base  thoughts,  but  rather  lasted  in  me  like  a 

*  consumption,     increasing    daily    more     and     more.' 
Further  on  in  the  same  letter  he  adds, — '  Good  Olive, 
'  let  me  receive  no  more  quarrelling  letters  from  you, 
'  for  I  desire  but  your  love,  it  being  the  only  thing 

<  that  affords  me  pleasure  in  this  vile  world.     Send  me 
4  word  how  the  children  do,  and  whether  Charles  be 
'  black  or  fair,  and  who  he  is  like  ;  but  I  am  sure  the 
1  nurse  will  swear  that  he  hath  my  eyes  or  nose,  and 

*  you  may  perchance  be  angry  and  say  you  never  saw 
1  anything  so  like  some  brother  of  yours  as  he  is.     I 
1  would  to  God  I  could  hear  thee  discourse,  I  would 

*  never  come  to  Boulogne  to  kiss  my  host's  daughter 

*  although  you  would  entreat  me.' 

He  sends  her  plenty  of  news,  and  now  and  then  pre- 
sents for  those  at  home  : — 

1 1  have  sent  here  three  purses  ;  if  you  like  them  not 
6  for  yourself  you  may  send  them  to  Lady  Boteler,  and 


LETTERS  FROM  HUSBANDS  AND  WIVES    201 

4  to  Mall,  and  to  the  Lady  Justice.  I  took  out  the  toy 
4  of  gold  and  little  rubies,  which  was  in  the  purse,  and 
4  send  it  apart  with  the  purses,  and  filled  the  purse 
4  which  was  for  you  full  of  perfumes. 

4 1  would  have  you  give  my  mother  forty-five  pounds 
1  as  a  token  from  me,  so  there  will  remain  four  hundred 
4  for  yourself,  which  may  serve  you  to  spend  till  I  come 

*  home,  which  as  yet  I  cannot  tell  you  seriously  when  it 

*  will  be.     I  have  written  to  my  mother  that  I  have  sent 

*  her  that  money,  therefore  I  pray  you  have  a  care  to 

*  deliver  it  to  her  as  soon  as  you  shall  receive  it.     I 
4  would  have  you  make  Ned  [his  younger  brother]  a 
4  suit  of  clothes,  or  else  give  him  one  of  mine,  which  you 
4  shall  think,  and  let  him  go  to  Mr.  St.  Antoine,  where 
4  if  he  do  not  well,  I  may  justly  forsake  him,  and  let 
4  him  never  hope  for  anything  from  me.     This  is  my 
4  desire,  and  I  hope  you  will  see  it  fulfilled.' 

Mr.  St.  Antoine  was  considered  the  best  master  of 
horsemanship  of  the  day.  On  another  occasion  En- 
dymion  writes  : — 4 1  sent  you  by  Dick  Grimes  a  chain  of 

*  gold  which  is  of  the  prettiest  making  that  ever  I  saw. 
4  I  pray  you  wear  it,  and  let  nobody  know  how  kind  I 
4  am  to  you  lest  they  laugh  at  me  for  my  fondness.    By 
4  Killigree  I  sent  you  a  feather,  but  I  fear  I  shall  trouble 
4  you  with  tokens  as  I  do  with  letters.     Yet  I  would 
4  willingly  have  nobody  come  without  some  small  re- 
4  membrance  to  you,  which  makes  me  send  you  this 
4  poor  token  now.' 

The  letters  extend  over  many  years.  Some  ten  years 
later  a  more  serious  quarrel  than  the  one  about  the  inn- 
keeper's daughter  seems  to  have  arisen,  in  which  his 
brother  endeavoured  to  mediate.  These  are  the  letters 
exchanged  : — 

4  OLIVE, — I  writt  unto  you  a  letter  by  this  gentleman 
4  which  it  seems  you  take  unkindly.  As  I  hope  for 
4  salvation  I  know  no  cause  for  it,  but  sure  you  are  apt 
4  to  mistake  me,  and  are  fearful  that  I  should  oblige  you 


202     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

'  overmuch  to  esteem  me  ;  wherein  though  you  shew  but 

*  little  love,  yet  'tis  a  sign  of  a  good  conscience.     God 
'  continue  it  in  you,  and  send  me  grace  to  amend  my 

*  life  as  I  will  my  manners,  for  I  will  trouble  you  no 

*  more  with  my  letters,  nor  with  any  design  of  mine,  yet 

*  I  will  not  despair  of  you  as  you  do  of  me,  for  I  hope 

*  that  age  and  good  consideration  will  make  you  know 

'  l  am  y°ur  best  friend'  ENDYMION  PORTER. 

'  Commend  me  to  the  children,  and  send  this  enclosed 
'  to  D'Avenant  with  all  speed.' 

Her  answer  is  very  penitent : — 

*  SWEETHEART, — My  brother  tells  me  you  are  very 

*  angry  with  me  still.     I  did  not  think  you  could  have 
'  been  so  cruel  to  me  to  have  stayed  so  long  away,  and 
'  not  to  forgive  that  which  you  know  was  spoke  in  a 
'  passion.    I  know  not  how  to  beg  your  pardon,  because 
'  I  have  broken  my  word  with  you  before ;  but  if  your 
4  good  nature  will  forgive  me,  come  home  to  her  that 
<  will  ever  be  your  loving  and  obedient  wife, 

OLIVE  PORTER.' 

Peace  was  entirely  restored  between  the  two.  The 
affectionate  letter  which  he  wrote  her  on  the  outbreak 
of  the  war  shall  be  given  in  its  place. 

We  must  now  turn  to  the  correspondence  of  another 
attached  pair  whose  sweet  and  happy  life  together  was 
sadly  cut  short.  Lady  Sunderland  spent  but  a  few 
years  with  her  young  husband  at  Althorp.  Duty  called 
him  from  her  side,  and  he  hastened  to  offer  his  loyal 
service  to  the  king,  leaving  her  with  her  two  babies, 
and  expecting  the  birth  of  a  third,  in  her  mother's  care 
at  Penshurst.  He  sent  constant  letters  whenever  oppor- 
tunity offered.  From  the  trenches  before  Gloucester  he 
wrote : — 


LETTERS  FROM  HUSBANDS  AND  WIVES    203 

*  MY  DEAREST  HART, — Just  as  I  was  coming  out  of 
1  the  trenches  on  Wednesday,  I  received  your  letter  of 
'  the  2Oth  of  this  instant,  which  gave  me  so  much 
1  satisfaction  that  it  put  all  the  inconveniences  of  the 

*  siege  out  of  my  thoughts.     At  that  instant  if  I  had 

*  followed    my   own    inclinations,    I    had    returned    an 

*  answer  to  yours  ;  writing  to  you,  and  hearing  from 

*  you  being  the  most  pleasant  entertainment  that  I  am 
<  capable  of  in  any  place  ;  but  especially  here,  where, 

*  but  when  I  am  in  the  Trenches  (which  place  is  seldom 

*  without  my  company)  I  am  more  solitary  than  ever  I 
4  was  in  my  life.     This  country  being  very  full  of  little 
'  private  cottages,  in  one  of  which  I  am  quartered,  where 
'  my  Lord  Falkland  last  night  did  me  the  honour  to 
4  sup,  Mr.  Chillingworth  is  now  here  with  me,  in  Sir 

*  Nicholas  Selwin's  place,  who  has  been  this  week  at 

*  Oxford.      Our  little   Engineer  comes   not  hither  so 
1  much  out  of  kindness  to   me  as  for  his  own  con- 
4  veniency,  my  quarter  being  three  or  four  miles  nearer 

*  the  leaguer  than  my  Lord  of  Devonshire's,  with  whom 
4  he  staid  till  he  was  commanded  to  make  ready  his 
4  engines  with   all    possible   speed.      It   is   not  to  be 
4  imagined  with  what  diligence  and  satisfaction  (I  mean 

*  to  himself)  he  executes  this  command ;  for  my  part  I 

*  think  it  not  unwisely  done  of  him  to  change  his  pro- 
4  fession,  and  I  think  you  would  have  been  of  my  mind 
4  if  you  had  heard  him  dispute  last  night  with  my  Lord 

*  of  Falkland  in  favour  of  Socinianism,  wherein  he  was 
4  by  his  Lordship  so  often   confounded,  that  really  it 
1  appears  he  has  much   more   reason   for  his  engines 
4  than  for  his  opinions. 

1  I  put  off  writing  till  last  night,  out  of  hopes  that 

*  something  here  would  have  happened  worthy  your 
1  knowledge,   more  than  what  I  writt  to  you  the  day 
4  before,   and  you  see  what  good   company  made  me 
1  defer  it  last  night,  at  which  time  I  was  newly  come 
4  from  our  leaguer.  .  .  .   Many  of  the  soldiers  are  con- 


204    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

1  fident  we  shall  have  the  town  within  this  four  days 
'  which  I  extreamly  long  for,  not  that  I  am  weary  of 

*  the  siege.      For  really,   tho'  we   suffer  many  incon- 
6  veniences,  yet  I  am  not  ill-pleased  at  this  variety,  so 
4  directly  opposite  to  one  another  as  the  being  in  the 

*  Trenches  with  so  much  good  company,  together  with 

<  the   noise  and   tintamarra  of  guns  and   drums,   the 

<  horrid  spectacle  and  hideous  cries  of  dead  and  hurt 
4  men,    is   to  the  solitariness  of  my  quarter,  together 

*  with  all  the  marks  of  peace,  which  often  brings  into 
'  my  thoughts  (notwithstanding  your  mother's  opinion 
'  of  me)  how  infinitely  more  happy  I  should  esteem 
4  myself  quietly  to  enjoy  your  company  at  Althorpe, 
'  than  to  be  troubled  with  the  noises,  and  engaged  with 

*  the  actions  of  the  Court  which  I  shall  ever  endeavour 

*  to  avoid.  ...  I  shall  endeavour  to  provide  you  better 

*  lodgings  at  Oxford,  and  will  be  careful  to  furnishe 

*  them  according  to  your  desires,  which  I  forbear  yet  to 

*  do,  because  it  is  not  yet  certain  that  we  shall  not  take 
'  in  Coventry  and  Northampton  on  our  way  to  London. 
4  ...  When  we  were  at  Bristol  Sir  William  [Crofts] 
1  was  there,  but  I  hear  he  is  now  lately  gone  to  Here- 

<  ford,  for  which  I  envy  him  and  all  others  that  can  go  to 

*  their  own  houses  ;  but  I  hope  ere  long  you  will  let  me 

*  have  your  company  and  Popet's,  the  thought  of  which 
4  to  me  is  most  pleasant,  and  passionately  desired  by 
'  Yours,  &c. 

'  August  25th,  from  before  Gloucester.' 

His  last  letter  was  filled  with  details  of  the  doings  of 
the  army,  much  of  it  in  cipher,  but  he  concludes : — 
4  Before  I  go  hence  I  hope  somebody  will  come  from 
'  you,  howsoever  I  shall  have  a  letter  here  for  you.  I 
i  have  taken  the  best  care  about  my  economical  affaires. 

*  I  am  afraid  I  shall  not  be  able  to  get  you  a  better  house, 
'  everybody  thinking  me  mad  for  speaking  about  it. 

<  Pray  bless  Popet  for  me,  and  tell  her  I  would  have  writ 


LETTERS  FROM  HUSBANDS  AND  WIVES    205 

*  to  her  but  that  upon  mature  deliberation  I  found  it  to 

<  be  uncivil  to  returne  an  answer  to  a  Lady  in  another 
1  character  than  her  owne  which  I  am  not  yet  learned 
1  enough    to    do.       I    cannot    by   walking    about    my 

*  chamber,  call  anything  to  mind  to  set  downe  here, 
'  and  really  I  have  made  you  no  small  compliment  in 

*  writing  thus  much  ;  for  I  have  so  great  a  cold  that  I 
1  do  nothing  but  sneeze,  and  mine  eyes  do  nothing  but 
'  water  all  the  while  that  I  am  in  this  posture  of  hang- 
'  ing  downe  my  head.     I  beseech  you  to  present  his 

<  service  to  my  Lady,  who  is  most  passionately  and 
'  perfectly  yours,  SUNDERLAND. 

f  OXFORD,  September  the  i6th,  1643.' 

The  meeting  with  his  wife  and  little  girl,  so  longed 
for,  was  never  to  take  place.  Four  days  later  he  fell  at 
Newbury,  leading  a  heroic  charge.  He  lived  for  some 
while  after  receiving  the  fatal  shot,  '  and  his  holy 
'  thoughts  went  as  harbingers  of  his  soul  to  Heaven, 
'  whereof  he  had  a  glimpse  before  he  died.' 

Very  pathetic  is  a  letter  in  which  Mr.  Sudbury,  tutor 
in  the  family,  to  whom  the  terrible  task  of  breaking 
the  news  had  been  entrusted,  relates  to  Lord  Leicester 
how  it  had  been  received  : — 

1  MY  LORD, — The  sad  newes,  which  by  your  Lord- 
1  ship's  direction  was  first  to  be  imparted  to  me,  was  by 

*  some  indiscretion  of  him  that  gave  me  notice  of  the 
'  footman's    desire   to   speak   with    me,    suspected    by 
'  diverse   in   the  house   before    I    could   returne  from 
'  him.     I  found  my  Lady  Sunderland  in  soe  great  an 
'  apprehension  that  some  ill  accident  had  befallen  some 
'  of  her  friends,  that  it  was  not  possible  for  me  to  sup- 
1  press  it  from  her  soe  long  as  till  I  had  delivered  your 
4  Lordship's  letters  to  my  Lady.     Her  Ladyship  was 

*  soe  full  of  expectation,  that  at  my  returne  from  the 
'  footman  she  would  not  suffer  me  to  goe  to  my  Lady 
4  till  I  would  tell  her  what  it  was  that  made  a  footman 


206    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

'  from  your  Lordship  come  after  soe  unusual  a  manner 
'  as  to  send  for  me,  and  not  come  himself  with  his 
'  letters.  I  told  her  Ladyship  that  I  had  letters,  but  that 
<  I  had  not  opened  them,  but  I  heard  the  footman  say 
'  my  Lord  of  Falkland  was  slaine.  This  would  not 
'  satisfy  her  Ladyship,  in  soe  much  that  after  some 
1  discourse  of  the  miseries  of  these  times,  and  how 
'  much  it  concerned  all  who  had  friends  in  these  wars 
i  to  be  ever  armed  against  the  worst  newes  they  could 
'  apprehend,  I  was  forced  to  let  her  know  that  my  Lord 
'  was  also  hurt.  This  put  her  into  a  great  passion  of 
'  griefe,  and  soon  after  into  some  fits  of  the  mother.  Her 
4  griefe  I  perceived  was  the  greater  because  she  feared 
'  I  had  not  told  her  all,  which  she  did  importune  me  to, 
'  and  I  had  noe  way  to  divert  her  from  it  but  by  enter- 
1  taining  her  with  such  discourse  as  was  more  proper 
'  for  a  divine  than  for  a  relator  of  newes. 

4  All  this  while  my  Lady  was  in  her  own  chamber, 

*  expecting  my  returne  with  the  greatest  passion  that  I 
'  ever  saw  in   any  body,    and   notwithstanding  all    I 
'  could  say  to  her,  through  the  extremity  of  her  sorrow 

*  she  fell  into  a  swoone.     But  we  soone  recovered  her 
1  out  of  that,  and  made  her  Ladyship  understand  how 
1  much  she  was  concerned  to  put  on  all  possible  courage 
'  and   resolution,  and  to  goe  and  comfort  my   Lady 
'  Sunderland,  whose   griefe  would   be  much  increased 
4  to   heare  that  her  Ladyship  was  soe  much  afflicted, 
'  and   she  would   receive   noe  consolations    from   any 

*  other  that  would  have  soe  much  power  to  pacify  her, 
t  as    those    which    her    Ladyship    might    afford    her. 
'  This  I  urged  and   pressed  upon   her  as  much  as  I 
'  could,  till  she  had  overcome  her  owne  passion,  and 
'  then    I    waited    on    her   to    my    Lady   Sunderland's 
'  chamber,  where,  falling  on  her  neck,  she  spoke  such 
'  comfortable  words  to  her,  and  in  soe  affectionate  a 
1  manner  as  I  am  confident  it  was  not  possible  for  any 
'  divine  or  orator  with  all  their  study  and  premeditation, 


LETTERS  FROM  HUSBANDS  AND  WIVES    207 

'  to  have  been  able  in  soe  short  a  time  to  have  charmed 
'  soe  great  a  griefe  soe  well.  After  this,  her  Ladyship 
<  told  her  out  of  your  Lordship's  letter,  how  honourably 

*  and  how  piously  her  lord  had  left  this  world,  having 

*  often  charged  the  enemy  before  the  fatal  shott  befel 
'  him,  and  then  with  how  pious  ejaculations  he  resigned 
'  his  soule  into  the   hands  of  God,   with   how  great 

*  satisfaction  of  conscience   he   had  entered  upon  this 
1  action,  and  how  free  from  all  self-respects.      I  shall 

*  not  need  to  tell   your  Lordship   that  neither  of  their 
'  Ladyships  took  much  rest  that  night.     But  this  I  can 

*  now  affirm  of  them  both,  that  it  hath  pleased  God  to 

*  give  them  patience,  and  I  hope  it  will   not  be  long 

*  before  He  sends  them  comfort  likewise.' 

Lord  Leicester's  letter  to  his  daughter,  full  of  religious 
consolations  and  encouragements  to  bear  up  for  her 
children's  sake,  and  as  the  only  service  she  could  do 
him  whom  she  had  lost,  is  too  long  to  give  more  than 
a  few  passages  from  1  :— 

<  And  your  reason  will  assure  you,  that  besides  the 
'  vanity  of  bemoaning  that  which  hath  no  remedy,  you 
'  offend  him  whom  you  loved,  if  you  hurt  that  person 
'  whom  he  loved.  Remember  how  apprehensive  he 

*  was   of  your  dangers,  and   how  sorry  for  anything 
4  which  troubled  you  :    imagine  that  he  sees  how  you 
'  afflict  and  hurt  yourself ;  you  will  then  believe,  that 
'  though  he  looks  upon  it  without  any  perturbation,  for 
'  that  cannot  be  admitted,  by  that  blessed   condition 

*  wherein  he  is,  yet  he  may  censure  you,  and  think  you 
1  forgetful  of  the  friendship  that  was  between  you,  if 
t  you  pursue  not  his  desires  in  being  careful  of  yourself, 
'  who  was  so  dear  unto  him.  ...  I  know  you  lived 
1  happily,  and  so  as  nobody  but  yourself  could  measure 
'  the  contentment  of  it.     I  rejoiced  at  it,  and  did  thank 

*  God  for  making  me  one  of  the  means  to  procure  it  for 
'  you.     That  is  now  past,  and  I  will  not  flatter  you  so 

1  Elegant  Epistles. 


208    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

'  much  as  to  say,  I  think  you  can  ever  be  so  happy  in 
'  this  life  again  :  but  this  comfort  you  owe  me,  that  I 

*  may  see  you  bear  this  change  and  your  misfortunes 
'  patiently.  ...   I  doubt  not  but  your  eyes  are  full  of 
'  tears,  and  not  the  emptier  for  those  they  shed.     God 
1  comfort  you,  and  let  us  join  in  prayer  to  Him,  that 

*  He  will  be  pleased  to  give  His  grace  to  you,  to  your 
'  mother,  and  to  myself,  that  all  of  us  may  resign  and 

*  submit  ourselves   cheerfully   to    His    pleasure.      So 
'  nothing  shall   be  able  to  make  us  unhappy  in  this 
1  life,  nor  hinder  us  from  being  happy  in  that  which 

*  is  eternal ;  .  .  .  that  you  may  find  the  comforts  best 
'  and  most  necessary  for  you,  is  and  shall  ever  be  the 
'  constant  prayer  of  your  father  that  loves  you  dearly. 

'OXFORD,  loth  October  1643.' 

Lady  Sunderland's  youngest  child,  Henry,  was  born 
a  fortnight  after  his  father's  death,  and  died  at  the  age 
of  five  and  a  half,  just  after  the  murder  of  the  king. 
By  her  petition  her  father  was  joined  with  her  in  the 
guardianship  of  her  children,  and  she  remained  for 
seven  years  in  the  home  of  her  girlhood.  The  baby 
was  the  pet  and  plaything  of  his  grandfather,  who 
makes  this  sad  entry  in  his  journal : — '  The  sweet 

*  little  boy,  Harry  Spencer,  my  grandchilde,  five  yeares 

*  old  from  October  last,  died  at  Leicester  House/ 


CHAPTER    XIV 

THE    HEAD   OF  THE    FAMILY 

IN  the  seventeenth  century  a  man's  family  meant,  not 
his  children  merely,  but  all  his  household  from  the 
chaplain  or  private  secretary  down  to  the  scullion, 
from  my  lady's  waiting  gentlewoman  to  the  goose- 
girl  ;  and  for  the  welfare  of  all  these,  spiritual  and 
moral  as  well  as  material,  the  master  held  himself 
responsible,  as  a  commander  for  his  soldiers,  as  a 
father  for  his  children.  He  ruled  them,  at  least  the 
lower  grade  among  them,  as  children  used  to  be  ruled, 
by  the  rod.  Personal  chastisement  at  the  hands  of 
master  or  mistress  was  quite  common,  and  involved 
no  degradation  on  either  side.  Mrs.  Pepys  was  by  no 
means  singular  in  bestowing  cuffs  and  slaps  upon 
saucy  or  disobedient  waiting-maids,  and  we  may  be 
sure  such  a  hot-tempered  lady  as  Mrs.  Porter  often 
allowed  her  servants  to  feel  the  weight  of  her  hand. 
Even  George  Herbert,  gentle  as  he  was,  in  his  rules 
for  a  country  parson's  household,  recommends  that  the 
servant  be  ruled  by  the  rod,  the  child  by  love.  '  But,' 
says  he,  'an  old  good  servant  boards  a  child.'  Yet 
— or  shall  we  rather  say  therefore? — faithfulness  and 
long  service  were  the  rule  rather  than  the  exception. 
Much  was  expected  of  servants,  much  was  found  ;  for 
discipline  and  humility  tend  rather  to  attachment  than 
to  rebellion,  and  it  is  not  till  the  evil  days  of  the  war 
that  '  the  servant  difficulty '  developed. 

o 


210     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

A  trusty  Servant's  portrait  would  you  see, 
This  emblematic  figure  well  survey. 
The  porker's  snout — not  nice  in  diet  shows  ; 
The  padlock  shut — no  secrets  he  '11  disclose  : 
Patient  the  ass — his  master's  wrath  will  bear  : 
Swiftness  in  errand  the  stag's  feet  declare  : 
Loaded  his  left  hand — apt  to  labour  saith  : 
The  vest — his  neatness  :  open  hand — his  faith  : 
Girt  with  his  sword,  his  shield  upon  his  arm, 
Himself  and  master  he'll  protect  from  harm. 

This  description  of  the  ideal  servant  of  our  forefathers 
is  the  English  rendering  of  the  Latin  inscription 
beside  the  Trusty  Servant  painted  on  the  wall  of  the 
kitchen  at  Winchester  College.  Both  lines  and  figure 
belong  to  the  previous  century,  having  been  originally 
painted,  according  to  Mr.  Adams,  in  the  time  of 
Christopher  Johnson  about  1560,  as  the  verses  were 
found  in  a  MS.  book  of  that  date  with  others  known 
without  a  doubt  to  be  his.  The  same  writer  also  says 
that  a  picture  nearly  resembling  it  was  frequently 
painted  on  the  walls  of  houses  in  France  about  the 
same  period.  In  the  Computus  Book  of  the  year  1637 
an  item  of  thirteen  shillings  is  charged  for  '  Pictori 
pingenti  servum  et  carmina/1 

The  dress  was  that  still  worn  in  the  seventeenth 
century,  and  had  probably  been  worn  for  a  century  or 
more  preceding.  The  fashion  in  servants'  dress  changed 
very  slowly,  as  we  may  see  by  comparing  the  drawing 
of  a  maid-servant  in  the  illustrated  edition  of  Green's 
Short  History  of  the  English  People  with  the  illustrations 
in  children's  books  of  the  early  part  of  the  last  century  : 
the  same  short  gown,  large  apron,  tippet,  and  gypsy 
hat  tied  down  over  the  cap.  The  footman's  livery,  as 
depicted,  consisted  of  a  bright  blue  cloth  tunic  or 
skirted  coat,  frogged,  knee-breeches  and  white  stock- 
ings. The  stockings  bring  to  mind  the  character  of  a 
footman  written  by  Mr.  James  Howell  to  a  friend.  There 

1   Wykehamica^  Adams. 


£     *       ~     —      L.      ~      ~      '      *      ~" 
i.  _      —      r       ..      f       —       C       - 


5    ;      I     S     t-     *     S.    C-  r 


THE  HEAD  OF  THE  FAMILY  211 

is  a  rather  painfully  suggestive  hint  as  to  a  plentiful 
allowance  of  these — a  footman  in  those  days,  it  must 
be  remembered,  answering  to  his  name,  and  being 
expected  to  run  on  errands  and  to  attend  his  master 
on  foot  whether  he  rode  in  a  coach  or  on  horseback. 
4  SIR, — You  writ  me  lately  for  a  footman,  and  I 

*  think  this   bearer  will   fit  you :    I   know  he  can  run 
4  well,  for  he  hath   run  away  twice   from  me,  but  he 
1  knew  the  way  back  again  ;   yet,  though   he   hath   a 
4  running  head  as  well  as  running  heels  (and  who  will 
4  expect  a    footman   to    be  a  stayed   man  ?)   I   would 
4  not  part  with   him   were   I    not  to   go    post  to  the 

*  North.      There   be  some  things  in   him  that  answer 
4  for  his  waggeries :   he  will  come  when  you  call  him, 
4  go  when  you  bid  him,  and  shut  the  door  after  him  ; 
4  he  is  faithful   and  stout,  and  a  lover  of  his  master. 
4  He   is  a  great  enemy  to  all   dogs,  if  they  bark  at 
4  him  in  his  running  ;  for  I   have  seen   him  confront 
4  a  huge  mastiff,  and  knock  him  down.      When   you 
4  go   a  country  journey,  or   have   him   run  with   you 
4  a-hunting,    you   must   spirit   him   with    liquor ;    you 
4  must  allow  him  also  something  extraordinary  for  socks, 
4  else  you  must  not  have  him  wait  at  your  table  ;  when 
4  his  grease  melts  in  running  hard,  it  is  subject  to  fall 
4  into   his  toes.      I  send   him  to   you   but  for  trial,  if 
4  he  be  not  for  your  turn,  turn  him  over  to  me  again 
4  when  I  come  back.  .  .  . 

4 1  pray  present  my  most  humble  service  to  my  good 
4  Lady  ;  and  at  my  return  from  the  North  I  will  be 
4  bold  to  kiss  her  hands  and  yours :  so,  I  am  your  most 
4  obliged  servitor,  J.  H. 

'  LONDON,  May  25,  1628.' l 

Mr.  Rawdon,  a  wine  merchant,2  when  he  came  from 
the  Canary  Islands  brought  with  him  a  4  blacamore 

1  Howell's  Familiar  Letters.  -  Life  of  Marmaduke  Rawdon. 


212     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

boy '  who  used  to  run  on  one  side  of  his  coach  when 
he  travelled,  and  on  the  other  a  little  Spanish  footboy 
called  John  Tosta.  This  Tosta  he  called  *  a  wittie 
little  knave.'  4  He  was  very  forward  to  speak  English, 
4  and  one  day,  seeinge  a  ladie  stand,  the  rest  beinge 
4  sett,  nott  knowing  the  name  of  a  chaire,  he  askt  hir 
4  if  she  would  nott  have  a  sitt  downe,  and  soe  brought 
1  hir  a  chaire.'  One  story  of  him  shows  the  odd  customs 
for  servants'  sleeping  accommodation.  4  When  they 

*  came  to  Dartmouth,  he  havinge  in  his  own  cuntry 

*  nott  beinge  used  to  lie  in  a  bed,  but  turned  with  the 
4  rest  of  the  gromes  and  foote-boyes  into  the  straw-loft 
1  over  the  stable,  thought  the  weather  was  a  little  to  cold 
4  to  be  served  soe  in  England,  soe   goinge   into  the 
1  chambers  where  the  maids  were  makinge  the  beds,  he 
4  espied  little  trundel  beds  under  the  greate  beds,  which 

*  he  understood  were  for  gentlemen's  men  ;  soe  fearinge 

*  he  should  goe  to  his  old  trade  of  the  straw-loft,  he 
4  said  to  his  maister,  Sir,  thir  are  a  sorte  of  little  beds 
4  under  the  greate  beds  in  this  howse,  which  they  say 
4  are  for  sarvants  ;  may  nott  I  lie  in  one  of  thosse? 
4  Yes,  saith  his  maister,  you  may,  thir  is  one  of  thosse 
4  little  beds  provided  for  you  ;  with  which  he  was  very 
4  well  pleased.' 

Twenty  years  later  the  difficulty  of  getting  servants 
for  English  families  abroad  had  become  acute.  They  did 
not  like  foreign  ways  and  French  cookery,  and  refused 
to  expatriate  themselves.  Sir  Ralph  Verney's  despairing 
letters  on  the  subject  are  amusing.  He  writes  to  his 
wife  :  4  I  know  noe  English  maids  will  ever  be  content 

*  (or  stay  a  week)  to  fare  as  these  servants  fare  ;  .  .  . 

*  for  my  part,  since  this  time  twelvemonth,  I  have  not 
4  had  one  bit  of  Roste  Meate  to  dinner,  and  now  of 
4  late  I  rost  but  one  night  in  a  weeke  for  suppers.' 

The  difficulty  was  enhanced  for  the  Verneys  by  their 
reluctance  to  employ  Roman  Catholic  servants.  4  It 
is  hard  to  find  one  of  our  Religion,'  he  says,  but 


THE  HEAD  OF  THE  FAMILY  213 

presently  mentions  one  whom  he  thinks,  t  with  all  her 
faults,'  they  had  better  take.     *  Her  two  sisters  are  but 

*  Ramping  girles,  but  truly  she  is  a  civill  wench  and 
'  plays  well  of  the  lute,  she  is  well  cladd  and  well  bredd, 
4  but  raw  to  serve,  and  full  of  the  itch.'     Most  of  us,  I 
think,  would  rather  have  waived  the  Protestant  religion 
and  dispensed  with  the  lute. 

Even  the  faithful  Luce,  who  was  so  attached  to  her 
mistress,  was  almost  persuaded  by  her  own  family  to 
remain  in  England  when  she  had  accompanied  Lady 
Verney  thither,  and  Ralph  writes  :  *  You  say  chamber 
4  maides  will  have  4  or  5  pounds  wages  and  neither 
4  wash  nor  starch  ;  that  is  to  say  they  will  doo  nothing 
4  but  dress  you,  for  I  doo  not  value  their  needle  work  at 
4  a  groat  a  moneth.'  A  maid  whom  they  had  taken  out 
with  them  to  Blois  turned  out  a  treasure  and  took 
good  care  of  her  master  and  the  children  while  Mary 
was  away.  l  Besse  now  speakes  French  enough  to 

*  buy  any  thing,  and  uppon  this  occation  I  asked  her 

*  if  she  had  any  thoughts  of  returning  home,  to  which 

*  she  answered,  she  had  noe  thoughts  of  parting,  and 
4  that  if  we  stayed   halfe  a  dozen  yeares  abroad  wee 

*  might  assure  ourselves  of  her.'     As  a  reward  he  pre- 
sented her  with  a  pair  of  trimmed  gloves  costing  £i,  55. 
Luce  Shepherd  after  all  remained  and  accompanied  her 
mistress  back  to  France,  becoming  the  mainstay  of  the 
bereaved  family  after  Mary's  death. 

In  one  of  Lady  Brilliana  Harley's  letters  to  her 
husband  there  is  a  servant's  character  much  more  like 
what  we  should  require  in  the  present  day  : — 

*  I  thinke  you    have  doun  a  very  good  worke,    in 

*  recommending  Mary  Wood   to  my  Lady  Veere,  to 

*  home  I  hope  shee  will  doo  acceptable  sarvis.     I  am 

*  toold  of  a  gentellwoman  by  Docter  Barker.     She  was 
4  bread  with  my  old  Lady  Manering.     She,  they  say,  is 

*  religious  and  discreet,  and  very  hansome  in  dooinge 
4  of  any  thinge ;  her  name  is  Buckle,  a  Sharpsheare 


214    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

'  woman  :  if  you  like  of  it,  I  would  thinke  of  having  of 
1  her ;  for  I  have  nobody  aboute  me,  of  any  judgment, 

*  to  doo  any  thinge.' 

Mr.  Howell,  the  same  who  wrote  so  quaint  a  char- 
acter with  a  footman,  sends  one  of  a  cook  to  Lady 
Cottington. 

*  To  my  noble  Lady>  the  Lady  Cot. 

'  MADAM, — You  spoke  to  me  for  a  cook  who  had 
'  seen  the  world  abroad,  and  I  think  the  bearer  hereof 
1  will  fit  your  Ladyship's  turn.  He  can  marinate  fish 
1  and  gellies  ;  he  is  excellent  for  a  pickant  sauce,  and 

*  the   raugou :    besides,    Madam,    he  is  passing  good 

*  for  an  ollia.     He  will  tell  your  Ladyship,  that  the 
'  reverend  matron  the  olla  podrida  hath   intellectuals 
'  and  senses  ;  mutton,  beef,  and  bacon,  are  to  her,  as 

*  the  will,  understanding,  and  memory  are  to  the  soul. 
'  Cabbage,  turnips,  archichocks,  potatoes  and  dates,  are 

*  her  five  senses,  and  pepper  the  common  sense :  she 

*  must  have  marrow  to  keep  life  in  her,  and  some  birds 

*  to  make  her  light ;  by  all  means  she  must  go  adorned 

*  with  chains  of  sauceages.     He  is  also  good  at  larding 

*  of  meat  after  the  mode  of  France.     Madam,  you  may 
4  make  proof  of  him,  and  if  your  Ladyship  find  him  too 
4  saucy  or  wasteful,  you  may  return  him  from  whence 
'  you  had  him.     So,  I  rest,  Madam, — Your  Ladyship's 

*  most  humble  servitor,  J.  H. 

*  WESTMINSTER,  June  2, 1630.' 

That  important  functionary,  the  cook,  was  in  great 
households  almost  always  a  man.  A  graphic  sketch  is 
given  of  him  by  Bishop  Earle. 

<  Colericke  he  is,  not  by  Nature  so  much  as  his  Art, 
1  and  it  is  a  shrewd  temptation  that  the  chopping  knife 

*  is  so  neare.     His  weapons  often  offensive  are  a  messe 
'  of  hot  broth  and  scalding  water,  and  woe  be  to  him 


THE  HEAD  OF  THE  FAMILY  215 

i  that  comes  in  his  way.  In  the  kitchen  he  will 
<  domineere  and  rule  the  Roast  in  speight  of  his 
1  Master,  and  Curses  in  the  very  Dialect  of  his 
'  Calling.  .  .  . 

*  His  cunning  is  not  small  in  Architecture,  for  he 

*  builds  strange  Fabricks  in  Paste,  Towres  and  Castles 

*  which  are  offered  to  the  assault  of  valiant  Teeth,  and 
'  like  Darius  his  Pallace,  in  one  Banquet  demolisht. 

*  .  .  .  His  best  Facultie  is  at  the  Dresser,  where  he 
'  seems  to  have  great  skill  in  the  Tactikes,  ranging  his 
'  Dishes   in    order  militarie ;   and    placing  with  great 

*  discretion  in  the  fore-front  Meates  more  strong  and 
'  hardie,  and  the  more  cold  and  cowardly  in  the  rear ; 
4  as  quaking  Tarts  and  quivering  Custards,  and  such 
1  Milksop  Dishes.  .  .  .  But  now  the  second  Course  is 
1  gone  up  and  he  downe  in  the  Cellar,  where  he  drinks 

*  and  sleeps  till  4  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  and  then  returns 
4  again  to  his  Regiment.' l   In  those  days  there  were  but 
two  regular  meals  ;  dinner  at  eleven  or  twelve,  supper 
at  five  or  six. 

The  oversight  of  such  large  households  of  men  and 
maids  was  no  sinecure,  and  though  in  the  master's 
absence  much  was  left  to  the  steward,  all  was  regulated 
by  the  head  of  the  house  himself.  Lord  Cork,  busy 
man  as  he  was,  occupied  with  great  affairs,  settling 
townships  in  Ireland,  and  importing  manufactures  in 
the  hope  of  dragging  prosperity  into  that  most  distress- 
ful country,  found  time  to  take  the  most  precise  order 
for  the  management  of  his  enormous  household.  He 
was  a  man  who  liked  to  keep  the  control  of  the  smallest 
matters  in  his  own  hands.  In  his  diary,  in  which  every 
expense  down  to  the  most  minute  is  carefully  entered, 
there  is  a  set  of  rules  for  the  servants  drawn  up  when 
he  removed  from  Ireland  to  the  new  house  he  had 
bought  in  Dorsetshire.2 

1  Earle's  Microcosmography. 

2  Mary  Rich,  Countess  of  Warwick. 


216    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

*  A  Form  for  ye  Government  of  ye  Earl  of  Cork's 
Family  at  Stalbridge. 

'  i.  Firste  all  ye  servants  excepte  such  as  are  officers, 
'  or  are  otherwise  imployed,  shall  meete  every  morn- 

*  ing   before  dinner  and    every  night  after  supper  at 
'  Prayers. 

{ 2.  That  there  be  lodgings  fitting  for  all  ye  Earl  of 

*  Cork's  servants  to  lye  in  ye  house. 

'  3.  That  it  shall  be  lawful  for  ye  Steward  to  examine 
'  any  subordinate  Servant  of  ye  whole  Familye  con- 

*  cerning  any  Complaint  or  Misdemeanour  committed, 

*  and  to  dismiss  and  put  awaye  any  inferior  Servant 
4  that  shall  live  dissolutelie  and  disorderlie,  either  in  ye 
4  House  or  abroad,  without  ye  especial  command  of  ye 

*  Earl  of  Cork  to  the  contrarie. 

'4.  That  there  be  a  certen  number  of  ye  gents 
1  appoynted  to  sitt  at  ye  Steward's  Table,  ye  lyke  at  ye 

*  Wayters'  Table,  and  ye  reste  to  sitt  in  ye  Hall,  at  ye 
'  longe  Table. 

<  5.  That  there  be  a  Clerke  of  ye  Kytchen,  to  take 

*  care  of  such  Provision  as  is  brought  into  ye  house, 

*  and  to  have  an  espetial  eye  to  ye  severall  Tables  that 
'  are  kept  either  above  staires,  or  in  ye  Kytchin,  and 
'  other  places. 

*6.  That  all   ye  Women  Servants  under  ye  degree 

*  of  Chamber-maydes    be    certenlie    knowne    by  their 
4  names  to  ye  Steward,  and  not  altered  and  changed 
1  uppon   everye  occasion   without    ye    Consent  of   ye 

*  Steward,    and    no    Schorers    to    be  admitted    in    ye 

*  Howse. 

4  7.  That  ye  Officers  every  Fridaye  night  bringe  in 
4  their  bills  unto  ye  Steward,  whereby  he  may  collecte 
'  what  hath  been  spente,  and  what  remaynes  weaklie  in 
1  ye  Howse. — THOMAS  CROSS,  his  orders  for  ye  keeping 

*  of  ye  Howse.' 

The    Earl    of    Leicester  was   another  man  of   high 


THE  HEAD  OF  THE  FAMILY  217 

position  who  spent  much  of  his  time  in  the  country 
and  gave  a  good  deal  of  personal  oversight  to  the 
affairs  of  his  large  household,  and  he  and  Lady 
Leicester  regarded  their  servants  quite  as  friends.  In 
the  exceedingly  touching  account  of  her  deathbed  we 
read  that  she  had  many  of  them  summoned  to  her 
room  and  took  a  kindly  leave  of  them,  sending 
messages  to  those  whom  she  could  not  see,  as  well  as 
leaving  many  bequests  to  them.  Dame  Margaret 
Verney  also  remembered  her  servants  in  her  will. 
After  five  pounds  for  the  poor  of  Middle  Claydon,  she 
bequeathes, — '  To  Betty  Coleman  £10  to  plase  her, 
1  and  pray  take  som  care  to  see  her  plased  with  it.  ... 
'  If  Cooke  is  with  me  give  her  £3  and  sum  of  my 
'  worser  gowns,  and  give  my  man  according  as  he  is/ 
It  is  satisfactory  to  know  that  all  her  old  servants  stayed 
on  with  her  daughters  through  the  distressful  times  of 
the  war,  and  Betty  Coleman's  name  reappears  in  the 
letters  later  on  when  there  was  strife  between  the 
sisters  as  to  the  amount  of  ladies-maiding  each  was 
entitled  to. 

In  spite  of  the  beatings  and  cuffings,  there  seems  to 
have  been  no  such  distinct  class  division  as  grew  up 
later.  The  servant's  interests  were  bound  up  with  those 
of  the  household  to  which  he  belonged  ;  he  was  in 
truth,  as  well  as  in  name,  one  of  the  family.  Then 
through  a  large  household  the  gradations  were  so  fine 
and  so  numerous,  whoever  served  was  called  servant,  be 
he  esquire,  private  secretary,  land  steward,  or  serving- 
man.  Instead  of  one  class  in  the  parlour,  and  another 
absolutely  distinct — as  though  of  another  race — in  the 
kitchen,  there  were  degrees,  and  no  great  chasm 
between  one  and  the  next.  In  the  Life  of  Marmaduke 
Rawdon,  the  four  '  servants '  whom  he  took  out  to  the 
Canaries  with  him  are  thus  described : — *  He  then 
*  imbarking  himselfe  with  his  fower  sarvents,  vizt.  Mr. 
'  Marmaduke  Harrison,  a  Yorkshire  gentleman  with 


218    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

'  whom  he  was  acquented  in  his  youth,  who  was  stuard 
'  of  his  provisions  abord  the  ship,  and  afterwards  stuard 
'  of  his  howse  in  the  Canaryes,  the  seacond  was  Thomas 

*  Gill,  his  cash  keeper,  whom  he  brought  with  him  from 

*  the  Canarys  ;  the  third  was  John  Wade,  a  youth  of 

*  Dover,  who  being  a  good  accountant  and  writinge  a 

*  good  hand,  he  thir  tooke  to  be  his  sarvant ;  the  fowerth 
'  was  his  trumpeter,  whom  he  had  hired  for  that  voyage, 
1  whosse  dewtie  it  was  to  sound  when  his  dinner  and 

*  supper  was  brought  up,  att  anie  time  when  he  was 

*  disposed  to  be  merry  and  drink  healths  abord,  also 
<  when  he  understood  he  was  arisinge  or  goinge  to  bed, 
4  also  whensoever  he  went  ashore  or  came  abord  during 

*  that  voyage.' 

His  own  experiences  when  in  his  uncle's  house  at 
Hodsden  were  of  being  put  to  menial  offices  for  his 
good.  <  Mr.  Rawdon,  the  first  yeare  he  came  to  his 
'  uncle,  before  he  went  beyond  the  seas,  for  all  his 
'  unckle  had  allwayes  a  noble  respect  for  him,  yett  to 

*  breed   him   with   more   humility,    he  caused   him   to 
'  waite  upon  him  at  table,  and  to  dine  with  the  sar- 

*  vants,  in  which  interim  thir  comes  up  to  his  unckle's 

*  howse  one  Mr.  John  Cooke,  a  yonge  gentleman,  son 

*  to  Dr.  Cooke,  Bishop  of  Hereford,  which  bishop  was 
'  a  nere  kinsman  to  Sir  Marmaduke's  lady  ;    and   he 
'  came  up  to  be  put  forth  an  aprentice,  soe  till  a  maister 
'  was  provided  for  him,   he  staid  thir,  was  bedfellow 

*  with  Mr.  Rawdon,  but  satt  att  table  with  his  unckle, 
'  and  soe  consequently  Mr.  Rawdon  waitinge  upon  the 
'  table  might  give  him  a  trencher,  wine,  or  beere  or 

*  what  he  might  call  for ;  butt,  in  conclusion  Mr.  Cooke 

*  was  putt  forth  a  prentice,  and  Mr.  Rawdon  was  sent 

*  beyond  the  seas.'     Later  the  positions  were  reversed  ; 
for  the  rich  wine-merchant,  going  on  board  a  vessel 
which  came  to  TenerifTe  to  treat  of  disposing  of  some 
goods,  found  his  former  comrade  toiling  at  the  oar  as 
a  common  sailor. 


THE  HEAD  OF  THE  FAMILY  219 

The  superior  sort  of  servants  were  as  well  educated 
as  their  masters,  and  wrote  letters  at  least  as  well, 
if  not  better,  spelt  and  expressed  than  those  of  their 
mistresses.  The  letters  of  Luce  Shepherd  when  Mrs. 
Eure's  little  girls  were  entrusted  to  her  care  at  Blois 
may  stand  beside  those  of  her  master's  sisters  and  gain 
by  the  comparison.  On  the  journey  out  she  writes  : — 

*  They  are  rery  well  and  love  french  potage,  especi- 
ally Miss  Margreat.'      Later  she  sends  an  account  of 
little  Miss  Mary,  who  was  delicate,  that  'she  is  always 
'  mery  and  in  good  humour  according  to  custom.  .  .  . 
1  As  for  Miss  Margreat  she  is,  thankes  be  to  God,  a 

*  very  helthy  and  wholsum  child,  and  in  my  opinion 
'  will  make  a  hansum  woman.  .  .  .  She  is  in  much 

*  esteeme  with  the  french  ladyes.     But  Miss  Margreat 
4  doth  not  lerne  any  exercise  so  soon  as  her  sister  doth  ; 
'  and  yet  she  taketh  as  much  or  more  paines.     Miss 
'  Mary  hath  a  very  quick  witte  and  very  endustrious, 
'  and  capable  to  larne  anything,  and  if  it  please  God 
4  shee  be  perfectly  cured,  it  will  be  the  greatest  hapi- 
4  nes  ever  I  had  in  the  world.      Mr.  John  nor  Miss 

*  Margreat  never  have  any  chilblains  neither  do  they 

*  ware  fur  gloves,  but  Miss  Mary  wareth  furr  gloves, 
1  not  that  shee  hath  had  any  chiblains  this  yeare  one 
4  her  hands  att  all,  but  shee  hath  chilblains  one  her 
'  feet,  but  noe  great  matters.' 

Another  interesting  servant's  letter  is  from  one  of 
the  superior  servants  at  Woodhall  to  Mr.  Richard 
Harvey,  steward  in  the  Porter  household. 

*  HONEST  MR.  HARVEY, — I  am  very  glad  to  hear  of 
4  your  good  health  and  of  your  coming  to  town,  and 
4  more  will  I  be  when  it  is  my  fortune  to  see  you,  that 

*  I  may  give  you  thanks  for  so  many  Courtesys  and 

*  good   Counsel   as   I   have   Received   at  your  hands. 

*  Truly  we  were  here  in  expectation  to  see  my  noble 
4  Mr.  and  Lady  some  days  of  this  week,  but  now  I  see 

*  ourselfs  frustrated.     The  bay  nagg  that  you  writt  of 


220    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

'  shall  be  taken  in  and  well  kept  and  breathed  against 

*  my  Mr.  is  pleased  to  send  for  it.     John  Aldridge  the 
'  Keeper  desireth  my  Mr.   and  Lady  to  know  that  if 

*  they  will  have  some  does  to  be  killed  that  it  must  be 

*  within  this  7  or  8  days  at  the  furthest,  because  this 
4  wet  weather  will  make  them  fall  away.      Both  Mr. 
'  Thos.  and  Mr.  James  are  in  very  good  health,  God 
'  be    Thanked,    and    Miss    Mary   continues    still    her 

*  quartan  ague,  and  is  very  desirous  to  go  to  London 
'  if  my  Lady  will  be  pleased.     She  gives  you  many 

*  Thanks  for  your  Kind  Commendations  and  returns 
4  you  her  kind  love  and  service,  as  I  do  and  the  rest 
4  of  our  Company,  and  wishing  you   all   health   and 
'  happiness,  Rest  for  Ever, — Your  humble  servant, 

FRAN.  DORVAN. 

*  Pray  do  me  the  favour  to  present  my  best  services 
4  to  Mrs.  Dorothy. 

'  WOODHALL,  October  22,  I638.'1 

Mr.  Porter  himself  writes  to  this  same  confidential 
steward  as  *  My  verie  loving  friend,  Mr.  Richard 
Harvie,'  with  innumerable  commissions  to  do  for  him, 
great  and  small — a  watch  to  be  repaired  for  the  king 
or  a  pair  of  riding-breeches  to  be  ordered  'with  the 
seams  curiously  sewed/ 

In  great  households  the  chaplain  was  a  person  of 
some  importance,  and  was  frequently  also  tutor  to 
the  children.  His  seems  to  have  been  a  somewhat 
anomalous  position,  for  we  find  George  Herbert,  in 
his  Country  Parson,  warning  the  chaplain  in  a  great 
house  against  being  *  too  submissive  and  base  to  keep 
up  with  the  Lord  and  Lady  of  the  house,'  and  bidding 
him  to  'preserve  a  boldness  with  them  and  all,  even 
4  so  far  as  to  reprove  to  their  very  face  when  occasion 

*  calls,   but  seasonably  and    discreetly.'      Their    con- 
fidential position  sometimes  lent  itself  to  abuse,  as  we 

1  Letters  of  Mr.  Endymion  Porter. 


THE  HEAD  OF  THE  FAMILY  221 

may  gather  from   Anne   Murray's  description   of  her 
visit  to  Naworth  Castle  : — 

*  As  soone  as  his  [Sir  Charles  Howard's]  health  would 
'  allow  of  travaile,  wee  tooke  journey  and  came  to 

*  N.  Castle,  where  I  was  so  obleigingly  entertained  by 

*  Sir  Charles  and  his  lady,  and  with  so  much  respect 
'  from  the  whole  familly,  that  I  could  not  but  think  my 
'  selfe  very  hapy  in  so  good  a  societty,  for  they  had  an 
'  excellent  governed  familly,  having  great  affection  for 
4  one  another ;  all  there  servantts  civill  and  orderly  ; 
1  had  an  excellent  preacher  for  there  chaplaine,   who 
4  preached  twice  every  Sunday  in  ye  chapell  and  dayly 
1  prayers  morning  and  evening.     Hee  was  a  man  of 

*  good  life,  good  conversation,  and  had  in  such  venera- 
'  don  by  all  as  if  hee  had  beene  there  tutelar  Angell.' 

Anne  had  cause  later  to  change  her  opinion  of  this 
4  tutelar  angell.'  There  were  living  in  the  house  two 
young  girls,  cousins  of  Sir  Charles,  who  having  been 
'  bred  up  papists '  were  being  instructed  by  the  chaplain 
in  the  Protestant  religion,  and  Anne  discovered  that  he 
was  taking  advantage  of  his  position  to  make  love  to 
the  elder  of  the  two.  Moreover  he  tried  in  the  most 
discreditable  way  to  make  mischief  between  her  and 
her  hostess  Lady  Howard,  by  insinuating  that  she  was 
in  love  with  Sir  Charles,  a  trick  which  only  failed 
because  the  two  ladies,  having  been  confidential  friends 
from  girlhood,  came  to  an  understanding  and  compared 
the  falsehoods  he  had  told  to  each. 

The  mention  of  stewards  is  very  frequent  in  the 
correspondence  of  the  time.  The  name  of  Will  Roades 
continually  appears  in  the  Claydon  letters,  and  in  the 
memoir  of  Mary  Rich,  Countess  of  Warwick,  there  are 
several  letters  from  a  faithful  steward,  Wilson  by  name, 
who  distinguished  himself  when  Lees,  in  the  absence  of 
the  master,  was  descended  upon  by  a  party  of  royalists 
under  Lord  Goring,  by  successfully  hiding  the  greater 
part  of  the  arms  of  which  they  were  in  quest.  Chettle, 


222     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

who  is  so  often  mentioned  in  Lord  Cork's  diary, 
appears  to  have  been  rather  secretary  and  agent,  and 
under  him  was  the  house  steward,  Thomas  Cross,  to 
whom  the  oversight  of  the  house  servants  was  com- 
mitted. 

Fortunate  were  such  fathers  as  Sir  Edmund  Verney, 
who,  when  absent  on  his  court  duties,  could  leave 
everything  in  the  hands  of  so  excellent  a  deputy  as  his 
conscientious  and  careful  eldest  son.1  We  have  already 
seen  how  Ralph  was  entrusted  with  the  arrangements 
for  sending,  the  brother,  not  so  much  his  junior,  to 
Oxford.  Indeed,  he  seems  to  have  been  an  instance  of 
an  old  head  on  young  shoulders  ;  careful,  methodical, 
in  many  ways  older  than  Sir  Edmund  himself,  and 
quite  a  second  father  to  all  his  young  sisters. 

Many  interesting  little  details  of  the  management  of 
the  land  and  of  the  gardens  may  be  gleaned  from  the 
valuable  correspondence  between  this  father  and  son. 
Amongst  Sir  Edmund's  minute  directions  we  read : 
4  The  Gardner  shall  pleach  noe  hedge  this  year.  .  .  . 

*  If  you  finde  him  fidle  about  his  woarke,  agree  with 
1  him  by  the  greate,  for  trewly  I  will  no  longer  indure 

*  his  day's  woarke  ;  it  is  intolerable  to  bear  with  his 
<  knavery.'      *  By  the  great,'  it  should  be  explained, 
means  by  the  piece  instead  of  by  the  day.     Evidently 
human  nature  in  the  working-man  had  to  be  reckoned 
with  then  as  now. 

Sir  Edmund  took  a  deep  interest  in  his  stables.  The 
horses  figure  largely  in  his  letters.  '  I  am  not  sorry 

*  the  gray  nagge  is  sould  though  I  should  have  been 

*  glad  to  have  had  more  for  him,  but  I  will  not  part 
'  with  the  white  geldinge,  unless  I  could  have  35/  for 
'  him.'     In  another  letter:   'I  am  sorry  to  hear  your 
1  horses  thrive  as  ill  as  mine.     I  would  send  as  many 
1  cart  horses  as  I  could  to  the  fenns,  there  they  would 

*  gather  flesh  at  an  easy  charge.' 

1    Verney  Memoirs. 


THE  HEAD  OF  THE  FAMILY  223 

There  is  a  good  deal  in  the  various  letters  about  the 
letting  of  farms,  and  Lady  Verney  says  that,  allowance 
being  made  for  the  change  in  the  value  of  money,  they 
let  at  far  better  rental  than  they  do  now. 

'Send  to  goodman  Grace,'  writes  Sir  Edmund,  'and 
'  if  hee  will  give  20  shillings  the  acre  for  little  Napson, 
'  or  35  in  grass,  let  him  have  it ' ;  and  in  the  next 
letter  : — *  I  would  take  19  shillings  the  acre  for  little 
'  Napson,  but  I  think  you  may  get  more  for  it,  nor 
'  under  20  shillings  for  great  Napson  I  will  not  take. 
'  Bid  Roades  have  a  care  for  the  timber  of  the  ould 
'  barn  att  the  Inn  and  lett  him  laye  the  ould  thatch 

*  where  it  may  make   muck  or  els   uppon   the  great 
'  Napson  meadow,  if  hee  thinck  it  fitt.     Mr.  Wells  has 
'  writt  to  mee  to  take  Knowle  Hill  and  Bignell's  mead 
'  for  one  year  att  ^143  rent,  which  I  am  well  content 
4  hee  should  have  it,  unless  you  can  be  sure  that  Roger 
'  Daly  will  for  that  and  Mayes  house  give  ^145  and 
'  take  it  for  some  longer  tyme. 

<  If  Lea  will  deale  for  the  cloase  for  twelve  yeares  I 
'  will  ditch  and  quick-sett  it,  and  mowrnd  it  well,  but 
'  then  hee  shall  be  tied  to  mayntaine  itt,  soe  that  his 
'  cattle  may  not  spoyle  the  quick,  or  els  hee  will  every 

*  yeare  carry  awaye  my  hedges  and  make  mee  bringe 
'  newe.' 

Sir  Edmund's  second  son  Tom  was  less  satisfactory, 
and  gave  a  great  deal  of  trouble  in  his  setting-out  in 
life,  returning  continually  upon  his  father's  hands.  He 
was  evidently  a  rolling-stone,  with  extravagant  tastes, 
and  no  pronounced  talent  for  any  line  in  life.  The 
colonies  were  beginning  to  afford  openings  for  young 
men,  and  Sir  Edmund  turned  his  eyes  towards  Virginia, 
which  was  being  fostered  by  the  Ferrar  family,  Nicholas, 
before  he  retired  from  the  world,  being  deeply  engaged 
in  forwarding  its  interests.  Having  endeavoured  to 
contract  a  secret  marriage  at  the  age  of  nineteen  with  a 
person  of  whom  his  parents  could  not  approve,  Tom 


224    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

was  shipped  off  thither  ;  but  a  colonial  life  required 
more  industry  and  perseverance  than  he  possessed, 
and  he  was  soon  back  again.  Barbadoes  next  was 
tried,  and  there  is  a  good  deal  of  interesting  corre- 
spondence about  the  outfit  necessary,  and  a  curious 
letter  in  which  he  relates  his  experiences  there  in  a 
somewhat  sanctimonious  tone,  evidently  with  a  view 
to  ingratiate  himself  and  get  fresh  supplies,  for  he  was 
for  ever  in  debt  and  difficulties,  and  for  ever  applying 
to  his  father  or  elder  brother  to  extricate  him. 

Openings  for  younger  sons  were  fairly  numerous. 
Sometimes,  following  the  already  antique  fashion,  they 
were  placed  in  the  house  of  some  great  man  as  page  or 
esquire,  to  learn  the  ways  of  courtiers,  and  obtain  later 
some  diplomatic  employment,  secretaryship,  or  the  like, 
or  some  mission  abroad.  If  a  lad  was  not  fitted  for 
army,  navy,  law,  or  Church,  trade  was  considered  quite 
suitable  for  the  son  of  a  man  of  good  position,  and  a 
gentleman  with  many  sons  was  glad  to  apprentice  one 
or  two  to  draper,  silk-mercer,  or  goldsmith.  The  career 
of  James  Howell  is  a  very  fair  type  of  many.  He  was 
one  of  a  family  of  fifteen,  son  of  a  well-connected  but 
not  wealthy  father  in  Wales,  and  was  early  sent  to 
school  and  then  to  Oxford.  On  leaving  the  university 
he  obtained  an  appointment  as  manager  of  a  glass  fac- 
tory in  Broad  Street,  Lord  Pembroke  and  Sir  Robert 
Mansell  having  obtained  a  monopoly  for  making  glass 
with  pit  coal,  which  was  just  coming  into  general  use, 
instead  of  wood.  Finding  himself  over-young  for  this 
post,  he  offered  himself  as  agent  abroad,  as  the  firm 
found  it  necessary  to  send  a  representative  to  Venice. 
Having  travelled  through  France  and  Belgium  to  Italy, 
and  seen  something  of  the  world,  he  was  on  his  return 
made  tutor  to  Lord  Savage's  sons  at  Long  Melford. 
Subsequently,  after  various  appointments  at  home  and 
abroad,  he  obtained  the  post  of  Clerk  of  the  Privy 
Council  to  King  Charles  i.  A  letter  of  his  to  his  father 


THE  HEAD  OF  THE  FAMILY  225 

about  the  placing  of  his  two  younger  brothers,  shows 
the  estimation  in  which  trade  was  held  : — 

'  SIR, — Our  two  younger  brothers  which  you   sent 

*  hither  are    disposed    of:     my  brother   Doctor    hath 
1  placed  the  elder  of  the  two  with  Mr.  Hawes,  a  mercer 

*  in  Cheapside,  and  he  took  much  pains  in  it ;   and  I 

*  had  placed  my  brother  Ned  with  Mr.  Barrington,  a 

*  silkman  in  the  same  street ;   but  afterwards  for  some 
'  inconveniences,  I  removed  him  to  one  Mr.  Smith  at 

*  the  Flower-de-Luce  in  Lombard  Street,  a  mercer  also. 

*  Their  masters  are  both  of  them  very  well  to  pass,  and 
4  of  good  repute  :  I  think  it  will  prove  some  advantage 
4  to  them  hereafter,  to  be  both  of  one  trade,  because 

*  when  they  are  out  of  their  time  they  may  join  stocks 

*  together  ;  so  that  I  hope,  Sir,  they  are  as  well  placed 
'  as  any  two  youths  in  London,  but  you  must  not  use 

*  to  send  them  such  large  tokens  in  money,  for  that 
4  may  corrupt  them.     When  I  went  to  bind  my  brother 

*  Ned  apprentice   in    Drappers-Hall,  casting  my  eyes 

*  upon  the  chimney-piece  of  the  great  room,  I  spied 
'  the  picture  of  an  antient  gentleman,  and  underneath 

*  Thomas  Howell.     I  asked  the  clerk  about  him,  and 
'  he  told  me  that  he  had  been  a  Spanish  merchant  in 
'  Henry  vm.'s  time,  and  coming  home  rich,  and  dying 

*  a  batchellor,   he  gave  that  hall   to  the  company  of 

*  Drapers,  with  other  things,  so  that  he  is  accounted 

*  one  of  their  chiefest  benefactors.     I  told   the  clerk, 

*  that  one  of  the  sons  of  Thomas  Howell  came  now 

*  thither  to  be  bound  ;   he  answered,  that  if  he  be  a 
'  right   Howell,    he   may  have  when   he  is  free,    300 
4  pounds  to  help  to  set  up,  and   no  interest  for  five 
'  years.     It  may  be  hereafter  we  may  make  use  of  this. 

*  He  told  me  also,  that  any  maid  that  can  prove  her 
'  father  to  be  a  true  Howell,  may  come  and  demand 
'  fifty  pounds  towards  her  portion,  of  the  said  Hall.     I 

*  am  to  go  post  towards  York  to-morrow,  to  my  charge, 

p 


226    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

'  but  hope,  God  willing,  to  be  here  again  next  term  : 

*  so  with  my  love  to  my  brother  Howell,  and  my  sister 
4  his  wife,  I  rest — Your  dutiful  son,  J.  H. 

'  LONDON,  Sept.  30,  1629.' l 

Country  gentlemen  who  had  no  Court  appointments 

to  take  them  to  town,  made  few  journeys,  the  grand 

tour  once  accomplished,  but  settled  down  quietly  to  the 

management  of  their  estates.     In  Clarendon's  Life  he 

says  : — '  The  Wisdom  and  Frugality  of  that  Time  being 

such  that  few  Gentlemen  made  Journies  to  London, 

or  any  other  expensive  Journies,  but  upon  important 

Business,  and  their  Wives  never ;  by  which  Providence 

they  enjoyed  and  improved  their  Estates  in  the  Country 

and  kept  good  Hospitality  in  their  Houses,  brought 

up  their  Children  well,    and   were  belov'd  by   their 

'  Neighbours  ;  and  in  this  rank,  and  with  this  Reputa- 

*  tion,  this  Gentleman  (Henry  Hyde,  the  writer's  father) 

*  lived  till  he  was  seventy  Years  of  Age,  his  younger 

*  Brother  the   Chief  Justice  dying  some  Years  before 
'  him,  and  his  elder  Brother  outliving  him.     The  great 

*  Affection  between  the  four  Brothers,  and  towards  their 
'  Sisters,  of  whom  all  enjoyed  Plenty  and  Contented- 

*  ness,   was  very   notorious  throughout  the   Country, 
'  and  of  Credit  to  them  all.' 

Lord  Clarendon  always  speaks  of  his  father  with  a 
delightful  reverence  and  affection.  After  he  had  taken 
up  his  residence  at  the  Temple,  he  continued  to  spend 
some  months  every  summer  at  his  father's  house  at 
Pirton,  near  Salisbury.  He  used  to  read  aloud  to  the 
old  man,  as  we  gather  from  his  graphic  account  of 
receiving  the  news  of  the  murder  of  the  Duke  of  Buck- 
ingham. Relating  it  as  he  does  throughout  in  the 
third  person,  he  says  : — 

'  He  arriv'd  a  Day  or  Two  before  Bartholomew  Day. 

1  Howell's  Familiar  Letters, 


THE  HEAD  OF  THE  FAMILY  227 

'  He  was  often  wont  to  say  that  He  was  reading  to  his 

*  Father  in  Camden's  Annals,  and  that  particular  Place, 

*  in  which  it  is  said,   "  Johannes  Feltonus,  qui  Bullam 
1  "  Pontificiam  valvis  Palatii  Episcopi  Londinensis  affix- 
'"eratjam   deprehensus,  cum   fugere  nollet,  Factum 

*  "  confessus  quod  tamen  crimen  agnoscere  noluit,  &c.," 

*  when  a  Person  of  the  Neighbourhood  knocked  at  the 

*  Door,  and  being  called  in,  told  his  Father  that  a  Post 
'  was  then  passed  through  the  Village  to  Charleton, 

*  the  House  of  the  Earl  of  Berkshire,  to  inform  the 

*  Earl  that  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  was  killed   the 

*  Day  before  (being  the  24th  of  August,  Bartholomew 
'  Day,  in  the  year  1628)  by  one  John  Felton,  which 
1  dismal  Accident  happening  in  the  Court  made  a  great 
'  Change  in  the  State,  produced  a  sudden  Disbanding 
1  of  all  Armies,  and  a  due  Observance  of  and  Obedience 
'  to  the  Laws ;  so  that  there  being  no  more  Mutations 
'  in   view  (which  usually  affect  the  Spirits  of  young 
'  Men,  at  least  hold  them  some  Time  at  Gaze),  Mr. 

*  Hyde  returned  again  to   his  Studies  in  the  Middle 

*  Temple,  having  it  still  in  his  Resolution  to  dedicate 
4  himself  to  the  Profession   of  the  Law,  without  de- 

*  clining  the  Politer  Learning,  to  which  his  Humour 
'  and  Conversation  kept  him  always  very  indulgent.' 

The  relation  between  this  father  and  son,  like  that 
between  Sir  Edmund  Verney  and  his  eldest  son,  seems 
to  have  been  one  of  great  confidence  and  affection. 
His  own  words  have  already  been  quoted,  how,  after 
the  heart-breaking  sorrow  he  endured  in  losing  his 
adored  young  wife,  nothing  but  '  his  entire  Duty  and 
Reverence  towards  his  Father'  kept  him  from  utterly 
giving  way  to  a  morbid  melancholy  and  *  transporting 
himself  beyond  the  sea.' 

Bishop  Earle's  portrait  of '  A  Good  Old  Man  '  will  fitly 
conclude  this  sketch  of  the  master  of  the  house  in  his 
family : — 


228    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

*  He  has  some  old  stories  still  of  his  own  seeing  to 
'  confirm  what  he  says,  and  makes  them  better  in  the 

*  telling ;    yet  he  is  not  troublesome  neither  with  the 

*  same  tale  again,  but  remembers  with  them  how  oft 

*  he  hath  told  it  them.      His  old  sayings  and  morals 

*  seem  proper  to  his  beard  ;    and  the  poetry  of  Cato 
'  does  well  out  of  his  mouth,  and  he  speaks  it  as  if  he 
'  were  the  author.      He  is  not  apt  to  put  the  boy  on 
'  a  younger  man,  nor  the  fool  on  a  boy,  but  can  dis- 
'  tinguish  gravity  from  a  sour  look  ;   and  the  less  testy 
'  he  is,  the  more  regarded.     You  must  pardon  him  if 

*  he  likes  his  own  times  better  than  these,  because  those 
4  things  are  follies  to  him  now  that  were  wisdom  then  ; 
'  yet  he  makes  us  of  that  opinion  too  when  we  see  him, 

*  and  conjecture  those  times  by  so  good  a  relick.     He 
<  is  a  man  capable  of  a  dearness  with  the  youngest 
'  men,  yet  he  not  youthfuller  for  them,  but  they  older 
'  for  him  ;   and  no  man  credits  more  his  acquaintance. 
'  He  goes  away  at  last  too  soon  whensoever,  with  all 
J  men's  sorrow  but  his  own  ;  and  his  memory  is  fresh 

*  when  it  is  twice  as  old.' 


CHAPTER   XV 

THE  HOUSEWIFE 

IF  the  master  of  the  house  was  paramount,  indoors 
the  mistress  ruled  a  kingdom  within  a  kingdom  ; 
amongst  her  maids,  in  kitchen,  store-room,  still-room, 
she  held  active  sway,  and  her  office  was  no  sinecure, 
for  it  was  expected  of  her  not  merely  to  order  what 
should  be  done,  but  to  understand  thoroughly  how 
to  do  it.  A  modern  housekeeper's  duties  are  usually 
comprised  in  ten  minutes'  conversation  every  morning 
with  the  cook — longer  if  there  is  to  be  a  dinner-party, 
paying  the  weekly  books,  or  writing  out  the  monthly 
order  for  the  Stores  ;  if  she  is  unusually  active  she 
harries  the  housemaid,  or  goes  into  the  kitchen  to  make 
a  cake  which  won't  get  baked  in  the  middle.  Besides 
this,  of  course,  she  attends  Cookery  Demonstrations 
and  takes  notes.  Her  ancestress  never  went  to  a  de- 
monstration class,  but  she  had  an  intimate  and  practical 
knowledge,  not  only  of  the  simple  arts  of  cooking,  but 
of  the  more  recondite  mysteries  of  distilling,  pickling, 
and  preserving. 

Then  there  was  the  ordering  of  provisions  and  the 
care  of  stores ;  a  far  more  onerous  business  when 
tinned  meat  or  vegetables,  tablet  soup,  or  condensed 
milk  were  unknown,  and  in  the  country  shops  were  afar 
and  carriers  slow.  Everything  had  to  be  preserved  for 
home  consumption  and  carefully  stored.  There  was  the 
smoking  and  curing  of  hams  and  bacon,  the  salting  of 
fish,  the  arranging  of  apples  and  roots  in  lofts  or  long 


23o    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

garrets  under  the  roof,  and  these  must  be  frequently 
seen  to  that  they  might  last  the  winter  through,  and 
the  apples  must  be  sorted,  the  keeping  ones  put  behind 
those  that  must  be  used  more  quickly  ;  the  depredations 
of  rats  and  mice,  too,  had  to  be  guarded  against.  There 
were  many  delicate  arts  practised  of  preserving  fruits, 
either  candied  or  in  syrup, — flowers  too,  for  we  read 
in  one  letter  of  'sirrop  of  violets,'  and  in  some  old 
cookery  books  there  are  recipes  for  a  conserve  of  rose- 
leaves,  probably  imported  from  the  East ;  the  distilling 
of  perfumes  and  essences,  the  drying  of  herbs  for  the 
kitchen,  or  of  lavender  and  pot-pourri  for  the  sweeten- 
ing of  linen.  This  latter  custom  is  often  mentioned  ; 
Venator,  in  The  Compleat  Angler,  desires  to  sleep  at 
a  cottage  to  which  he  took  a  fancy,  for  he  is  certain  the 
sheets  would  smell  of  lavender.  Evelyn's  Kalendarium 
Hortense  is  full  of  the  mention  of  such  sweet-smelling 
things  as  were  used  to  lay  in  drawers  and  presses. 

A  more  serious  matter  was  the  understanding  of  the 
medicinal  use  of  herbs,  and  the  careful  preparation  of 
cordials  and  physic  for  all  common  complaints,  or 
indeed  for  many  uncommon  ;  for  the  doctor  was  not 
always  attainable  in  a  hurry,  and  the  mistress  of  a 
country  house  was  usually  physician  in  ordinary  not 
only  to  her  own  household  but  also  to  the  poor  of  the 
neighbouring  village.  In  an  old  book  of  recipes  in  my 
own  family  which  can  be  traced  back  at  least  a  hundred 
and  twenty  years,  and  probably  contains  recipes  handed 
down  from  long  before,  there  is  a  prescription  for  the 
plague,  one  for  putrid  fever,  and  another  for  the  Evil. 
Some  knowledge  of  surgery  also  was  essential ;  at  the 
very  least,  the  binding  of  arteries,  the  dressing  of 
wounds,  and  the  setting  of  broken  bones.  Mrs. 
Hutchinson1  was  very  skilful  in  all  such  matters,  and 
during  the  siege  of  Nottingham  lent  her  aid  not  only 
to  the  wounded  on  her  own  side  but  to  those  of  the 

1  Memoirs  of  Colonel  Hutchinson. 


THE  HOUSEWIFE  231 

enemy  who  fell  into  their  hands,  playing  the  part  of 
surgeon  very  ably.  She  followed  her  mother's  example, 
for  she  says  of  her :  '  All  the  time  she  dwelt  in  the 
'  Tower,  if  any  were  sick  she  made  them  broths  and 

*  restoratives  with   her  own   hands,    visited   and  took 
'  care  of  them,  and  provided  them  all  necessaries  ;  if 
1  any  were  afflicted  she  comforted  them,  so  that  they 
'  felt  not  the  inconveniences  of  a  prison  who  were  in 
'  that  place.'     She  had  learned  a  good  deal  of  medical 
skill   and   knowledge  from    Sir  Walter   Raleigh    and 
Mr.    Ruthin,    who,    '  being  prisoners    in    the   Tower, 
'  and   addicting  themselves  to  Chemistry,  she  suffered 
'  them    to    make   their    rare    experiments  at  her  cost, 
'  partly  to  comfort  and  divert  the  poor  prisoners,  and 

<  partly  to  gain  the  knowledge  of  their  experiments, 
i  and  the  medicines  to  help  such  poor  people  as  were 

*  not  able  to  seek  physicians.' 

While  staying  with  Lady  Dunfermline  at  Fyvie, 
Anne  Murray  tended  the  wounded  as  she  describes  : — 
'  Itt  would  bee  too  tedious  to  relate  here  how  I  spent  ye 
1  time  I  was  at  Fyvie  wch  was  neare  two  yeares  ;  butt  itt 

*  was  so  agreably  that  all  my  life  I  never  was  so  long 

*  together  so  truly  contented  ;   for  the  noble  family  I 
'  was  in  dayly  increased  my  obligation  to  them,  and 
'  the  Lord  was   pleased  to  blese  what  I  gave  to  the 

*  helpe  of  the  sicke  and  wounded  persons  that  came  to 
'  mee,  part  of  them  from  Kinross  ;  and  some  English 
'  soldiers  came  to  try  my  charity,  wch  I  did  not  deny 
'  to  them,  though  they  had  itt  nott  without  exhorting 
1  them  to  repentt  there  sin   of  rebellion  and   become 

<  loyall.      The  variety    of   distempered    persons    that 

*  came  to  mee  was  nott  only  a  devertisementt,  butt  a 
'  helpe  to  instruct  mee  how  to  submit  under  my  owne 
1  croses,  by  seeing  how  patient  they  were  under  thers, 
'  and  yett  some  of  them  intolerable  by  wanting  a  sence 
(  of  faith  wch  is  ye  greatest  suport  under  afflictions.'1 

1  Autobiography  of  Anne,  Lady  Halkett. 


232     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

A  detailed  description  of  their  various  diseases  is  too 
horrid  for  quotation. 

George  Herbert,  in  The  Country  Parson^  recommends 
that  if  the  parson  should  consider  it  advisable  to  be 
married,  he  should  carefully  choose  for  a  wife  one  who 
understands  the  healing  art,  or,  if  not,  that  she  should 
learn  it  of  some  religious  neighbour,  for  she  ought  to 
have  skill  to  cure  and  heal  all  wounds  and  sores  with 
her  own  hands. 

It  will  be  seen  that  the  cares  of  the  house-mother  were 
many  and  various  ;  moreover,  like  Solomon's  virtuous 
woman,  *  she  layeth  her  hands  to  the  spindle,  and  her 
'  hands  hold  the  distaff.  She  seeketh  wool  and  flax, 
'  and  worketh  willingly  with  her  hands. '  She  saw  well 
to  the  ways  of  her  house,  and  if  she  did  not  exactly 
clothe  her  family  in  scarlet,  she  saw  to  it  that  every 
member  was  suitably  clad  according  to  his  degree.  The 
spinning  both  of  flax  thread  and  wool  was  done  by  the 
lady  of  the  house  herself,  her  maids,  and  her  waiting 
gentlewomen  ;  the  fabric  was  usually  woven  in  the 
nearest  village  in  a  cottage  loom  such  as  that  worked 
by  Silas  Marner,  but  the  garments  and  house  linen 
were  all  fashioned  at  home,  and  sewn,  it  is  needless  to 
say,  by  hand  ;  finished  too  with  a  dainty  stitchery  that 
requires  a  magnifying-glass,  in  these  degenerate  days, 
for  it  even  to  be  seen  and  appreciated.  Only  very 
best  dresses  for  state  or  gala  occasions  were  put  out 
to  be  made,  and  those  were  done  by  a  tailor ;  the 
woman  dressmaker,  unless  it  were  a  seamstress,  to 
come  and  sew  in  the  house  by  the  day,  was  as  yet 
unknown. 

To  aid  her  in  her  multifarious  cares  the  mistress  had 
usually  a  faithful  henchwoman,  or  second  in  command, 
in  the  person  of  her  waiting  gentlewoman,  who  was  not 
so  much  like  the  modern  lady's  maid  as  what  we  now 
call  a  companion,  being  generally  a  lady  of  the  same 
class  as  the  chaplain  or  secretary.  Jane  Wright,  who 


THE  HOUSEWIFE  233 

filled  this  office  to  Dorothy  Osborne,  was  sister-in-law 
to  the  parson  of  the  parish.  She  would  usually  help  in 
the  housekeeping,  make  the  preserves — Jane  evidently 
did  this,  by  her  messages  to  Sir  William  Temple  about 
his  favourite  kinds  of  jam :  she  spun  or  embroidered, 
walked  out  with  her  ladyship,  read  aloud,  and  probably 
performed  such  little  offices  as  washing  the  lapdog  and 
filling  the  beau-pots  with  flowers.  She  was  not  too 
proud  to  accept  her  lady's  left-off  sacques  or  stomachers, 
nor  to  give  personal  service  when  needed.  For  there 
was  one  thing  no  woman  of  quality  could  do  for  herself, 
and  that  was  to  'dress  her  head.'  Even  Mary  Verney, 
making  bread,  doing  housework,  enduring  privations 
with  heroic  cheerfulness,  absolutely  must  have  a  maid 
to  do  her  hair.  In  the  beginning  of  the  century,  when 
the  Elizabethan  style  was  in  vogue,  it  may  well  have 
been  impossible,  but  it  looks  easy  enough  in  the  simple 
fashion  brought  in  by  Queen  Henrietta  Maria,  with 
little  curls  upon  the  brow,  bunches  of  longer  ringlets 
behind  the  ears,  and  the  back  hair  merely  coiled  round  ; 
but  perhaps  it  was  considered  inconsistent  with  the 
dignity  of  a  lady  of  position  to  be  able  to  do  it  for 
herself. 

There  is  some  amusing  correspondence  on  the 
subject  in  the  Verney  Letters  ;  the  girls  were  so  very 
tenacious  of  their  rights  in  the  matter  of  lady's  maiding. 
Aunt  Isham  went  down  to  Claydon  to  try  and  settle  the 
quarrel,  and  writes  : — '  I  did  spake  to  Pegge,  as  her 
4  mayde  might  sarve  both  her  and  Pen,  but  she  will  not 
6  let  it  be  so  by  no  means.  ...  I  told  her  now  their 
1  father  and  mother  was  dead,  they  should  be  a  helper 
4  one  to  the  other,  but  all  would  not  doe.  If  she  will 
*  be  content  to  take  my  godchild  (Betty)  holy  to  her, 
4  all  but  washing  of  her,  then  Nan  Fudd  will  have 
4  more  time  to  help  Pen,  and  you  need  not  be  at  any 
4  more  charges  for  a  mayd  for  Pen.'  On  the  same 
vexed  question  Pen  herself  writes  to  her  brother : — 


234    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

1 1  am  to  entreat  a  favour,  which  is  if  you  can  lett  Nan 
<  fud  have  soe  much  time  as  to  come  my  hed  for  I  do 
'  heare  that  bess  colman  cannot  doe  it,  and  if  I  have 
'  not  won  which  can  com  a  hed  I  doe  not  know  what  to 
'  doe  by  reason  that  my  hed  is  soe  tender,  and  to  smoth 

*  sum  of  my  upper  lining  by  reason  that  bess  colman 

*  cannot  doe  them,  but  I  hope  in  time  to  bring  hur  to 
1  it.     My  sister  Margearett  will  teake  my  sister  Betty  to 

*  hur,  and  hur  made  shall  dres  hur  and  heare  hur  hur 
'  booke  and  teache  hur  hur  worke.' 1 

The  amount  of  religious  observance  habitually 
followed  in  the  household  must  have  absorbed  a  good 
deal  of  time.  There  was,  first,  morning  and  evening 
service  in  church  or  in  the  private  chapel,  at  which  not 
only  the  master  and  mistress  and  their  children,  but  all 
the  servants  who  were  not  otherwise  engaged,  were 
expected  to  attend  ;  daily  family  prayer  as  well  for  the 
benefit  of  those  who  could  not  get  to  church  ;  and  such 
religious  mistresses  as  Lettice,  Lady  Falkland,  gave 
their  servants  also  an  hour  every  day  of  Bible-reading 
and  instruction  in  the  Catechism.  The  parson's  wife 
was,  according  to  George  Herbert,  to  train  up  her 
children  and  maids  in  the  fear  of  God,  with  prayers  and 
catechisings  and  all  religious  duties.  Anne  Murray, 
as  will  be  remembered,  mentions  that  until  the  Parlia- 
ment put  down  the  Prayer  Book  Offices  and  week-day 
worship,  she  habitually  went  to  church  every  morning 
at  five 'in  the  summer  and  six  in  the  winter,  and  again 
to  five  o'clock  Evensong.  Church  service  was  not 
always  so  early,  however.  In  the  Earl  of  Cork's  regula- 
tions prayers  took  place  before  dinner  and  supper, 
which  would  probably  mean  about  eleven  and  five 
o'clock ;  and  Lord  Clarendon  mentions  in  his  Life  that 
during  the  time  he  lived  in  Jersey  he  and  Lord  Cole- 
pepper  went  to  church  every  morning  at  eleven. 

In  any  case  the  day  began  early,  at  five  or  six,  and 

1  Verney  Memoirs. 


THE  HOUSEWIFE  235 

much  could  be  done  between  that  hour  and  the  twelve 
o'clock  dinner.  There  were  only  two  regular  meals, 
and  hours  seem  to  have  been  very  much  like  those  kept 
in  provincial  France  in  our  own  day.  There  was  no 
regular  spread  breakfast ;  tea  was  a  rare  and  expensive 
luxury,  coffee  only  just  coming  in,  and  chocolate  is,  I 
believe,  not  mentioned  till  quite  the  middle  of  the 
century.  Ralph  Verney  writes  that  he  has  heard  of 
the  new  drink  and  tries  to  get  some  for  Mary,  then 
wasting  in  her  last  illness  ;  some  years  later,  Lady  Fan- 
shawe  received  a  present  of  chocolate  and  sugar  from 
the  English  merchants  of  Seville,  'with  twelve  fine 
'  sarcenet  napkins  laced  thereunto  belonging,  with  a 
'  very  large  silver  pot  to  make  it  in,  and  twelve  very 

*  fine  cups  to  drink  it  out  of,  filigree,  with  covers  of  the 
'  same,  with  two  very  large  salvers  to  set  them  upon,  of 
'  silver.'1     One  of  the  earliest  mentions  of  coffee  is  in 
Evelyn's  Diary  under  the  year  1637  : — '  There  came  in 
1  my  time  to  the  Coll:  one  Nathaniel  Conopios  out  of 
1  Greece,  from  Cyrill  the  Patriarch  of  Constantinople, 
'  who  returning  many  years  after  was  made  (as  I  under- 
'  stand)  Bishop  of  Smyrna.    He  was  the  first  I  ever  saw 

*  drink  coffee,  which  custom  came  not  into  England  till 
'  30  years  after.'     Anthony  Wood,2  however,  not  more 
than  a  dozen  years  later,   in   1649,   says  :    '  This  year 
'  Jacob,  a  Jew,  opened  a  Coffey  house  at  the  Angel  in 
'  the  parish  of  St.  Peter  in  the  East  Oxon,  and  there  it 
'  was  by  some  who  delighted  in  novelties,  drank.  When 
'  he  left  Oxon  he  sold  it  in  Old  Southampton  Buildings 

*  in  Holborne  neare  London,  and  was  living  there  in 
'  1671.'    People  took  a  manchet  of  bread  (that  is,  a  little 
white  roll)  and  a  cup  of  sack  or  a  glass  of  fruit  syrup  if 
they  wanted  it,  and  even  that  was  considered  rather  a 
degenerate  proceeding,   much  as  old-fashioned  people 
used  a  little  while  ago  to  look  upon  afternoon  tea.     As 
to  beginning  the  day  with  a  solid  meal  before  either 

1  Lady  Fanshawe's  Memoirs.  ~  Athena  Oxonienses. 


236    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

work  or  worship  had  been  accomplished,  our  forefathers 
would  never  have  dreamed  of  such  a  thing. 

The  king,  who  was  a  very  abstemious  man,  set  the 
example  of  taking  nothing  before  dinner ;  and  Sir 
Thomas  Herbert,  who  was  in  constant  attendance  on 
him  during  his  captivity,  attributed  his  perfect  health 
during  all  that  trying  time  to  the  simplicity  of  his 
habits,  'to  his  quiet  disposition,  to  his  unparalleled 
'  patience,  to  his  exercise,  walking  daily  in  the  gallery 
*  or  privy  garden,  to  his  abstemiousness  at  meat,  eating 
'  but  few  dishes,  drinking  but  twice  a  day  at  dinner  and 
1  supper,  once  beer,  once  wine  and  water  mixt,  only 
'  after  Fish  a  glass  of  French  wine,  the  beverage  he 
1  himself  mix'd  at  the  cupboard,  so  he  would  have  it : 
'  he  very  seldom  eat  or  drank  before  dinner  nor  between 
'  meals.'1 

After  dinner  would  come  a  leisure  time  for  most 
people :  in  summer,  no  doubt,  passed  chiefly  in  the 
garden  or  paradise ;  the  men  would  play  bowls  or 
smoke,  the  women  would  sit  in  an  arbour  or  walk  in 
the  pleached  alleys,  and  often  there  would  be  music  with 
lute  or  guitar.  If  friends  came  there  might  be  a 
'  repast '  of  fruit  and  cakes  with  syllabub  or  syrup, 
partaken  of  in  the  summer  or  'banketting'  house.  In 
winter,  or  on  wet  days,  much  progress  must  have  been 
made  with  the  elaborate  tapestries  or  samplers  that  have 
come  down  to  us. 

Whether  the  busy  mother  would  have  time  to  partake 
of  these  recreations,  or  of  the  dancing,  games,  and 
music  that  often  filled  up  the  evening  for  the  young 
folks,  may  be  doubted  ;  she  more  often,  and  perhaps 
her  elder  daughter,  would  have  to  betake  herself  to  the 
still-room  after  a  brief  repose,  especially  in  summer  and 
autumn  when  so  much  had  to  be  done.  It  was  certainly 
not  an  idle  life  that  she  led. 

If  we  pity  our  forefathers  for  wanting  some  of  the 

1  Memoirs  of  the  Last  Days  of  King  Charles^  by  Thomas  Herbert. 


THE  HOUSEWIFE  237 

luxuries  to  which  we  have  become  accustomed,  we  may 
envy  them  for  having  everything  home  -  made  and 
absolutely  free  from  adulteration.  No  watered  milk 
nor  separated  cream,  no  margerine  butter  nor  glucose 
jam,  nor  alum  bread,  nor  egg-powder  lowered  their 
health  nor  took  off  the  relish  of  their  food.  They  had 
hams  and  bacons  with  the  delicious  flavour  of  wood- 
smoke,  properly  pickled,  too,  instead  of  tasting  like 
imperfectly  salted  pork.  In  the  same  old  book  in 
which  is  the  prescription  for  the  plague,  already  men- 
tioned, there  is  an  excellent  recipe  for  curing  hams, 
beef,  or  tongues.  They  are  to  be  rubbed  with  salt  and 
saltpetre  and  left  for  twenty-four  hours.  The  pickle  is 
made  of  stale  strong  beer,  brown  sugar,  and  bay-salt. 
This  is  poured  over  them  boiling  hot  with  a  wooden 
ladle,  and  well  rubbed  in,  and  they  must  be  turned  and 
rubbed  every  day  for  a  fortnight  or  three  weeks,  then 
hung  a  fortnight  in  a  chimney  over  wood-smoke,  and 
black  pepper  sprinkled  on  the  bone.  These  chimneys 
still  linger  in  country  places,  though  rarely  used,  and 
few  nowadays  know  the  delicious  scent  of  the  smoke 
as  it  curls  up  blue  amongst  the  hams  and  sides  of 
bacon.  To-day  we  are  in  too  great  a  hurry,  and  the 
home-brewed  ale  is  not  to  be  had,  so  the  hams  are  just 
salted  and  rubbed  over  with  something  the  manu- 
facturers call  *  bottled  smoke.' 

Wood  fires  were  still  the  usual  thing,  though  coals 
were  already  coming  into  use,  especially  in  the  towns  or 
near  the  pits  ;  carriage  in  those  days  was  too  costly  to 
have  it  sent  into  the  country.  Lady  Sussex  when  in 
town  writes  to  Ralph  Verney,  who  did  all  her  commis- 
sions for  her : — ( The  felo  was  heare  this  day  with  a 
'  lode  a  coles  ;  i  thinking  your  sarvant  had  agreed 
'  with  Falcon  sent  thether  for  a  chaldron  and  a  halfe 
'  and  he  sent  them,  but  my  sarvant  tell  mee  the  are 
*  very  bad  coles.  ...  I  am  glad  your  man  hath  agreed 
1  in  another  plas  for  twenty  shillinges.  Most  of  these 


238    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

'  feloes  that  cary  coles  lives  nine  or  ten  miles  off  at 
'  Bushey.'  Charcoal  was  also  used,  for  we  read  in  the 
Herbert  Memoirs  that  two  baskets  of  charcoal  used 
to  be  placed  at  night  in  Mr.  Herbert's  room  for  the 
use  of  His  Majesty's  bed-chamber.  For  lights,  wax 
candles  were  customary  for  the  well-to-do,  and  tallow 
dips  f .r  the  poor  or  for  kitchen  use  ;  the  preparation  of 
both  these  was  another  home  industry.  The  king  had 
always  a  wax  light  in  a  large  silver  bason  set  on  a  stool 
by  his  bedside  at  night  with  his  two  watches  and  a  silver 
bell. 

Besides  cordials  and  medicinal  decoctions  there  were 
home-made  wines — grape,  currant,  orange,  or  ginger 
wine,  as  well  as  the  more  homely  elderberry  or  cowslip. 
Mead  in  these  days  is  almost  a  lost  art,  but  it  was  a 
great  feature  then.  Lady  Brilliana  Harley's  letters  are 
full  of  references  to  it,  and  it  figures  largely  in  the 
Christmas  hampers  which  people  in  those  days  were 
so  fond  of  sending.  Some  of  these  Christmas  presents 
must  have  been  a  valuable  aid  to  a  housekeeper.  Fancy 
receiving  *  Four  collars  of  brawn,  two  dozen  hog's 
'  puddings,  half  white  and  half  black,  and  a  fat  young 
'  swan,'  which  came  up  by  the  waggoner  from  Wilt- 
shire, followed  a  week  later  by  'a  small  rundlet  of 
metheglin,'  from  Sir  William  Calley,  'with  love  and 
service  to  good  old  Mrs.  Porter.'  Sir  James  White- 
locke  in  his  Liber  Famelicus  gives  a  list  of  all  the 
presents  he  received,  Christmas  1613,  in  which  appear 
two  doe  and  three  halves,  a  red  deer  pie,  a  fat  swan, 
several  collars  of  brawn,  eighteen  puddings,  and  a 
'  sugar  lofe,' — a  delicacy  at  that  time  much  thought  of. 
Amongst  later  presents  he  notes  marchpane,  which 
seems  to  have  been  a  kind  of  macaroon  '  made  of 
*  pastry  or  biscuit  with  almond  and  sugar  on  a  bottom 
'  of  wafer.'  He  also  frequently  received  mead  or 
metheglin. 

Amongst     the     quaint    old     recipes     preserved     in 


THE  HOUSEWIFE  239 

'  The  Closet  of  the   Eminently  Learned  Sir   Kenelm 

*  Digby   knt.    Opened,'    is   one    entitled    Sir   Thomas 
Gower's  Metheglin.      Five  gallons  of  honey  were  to 
be  poured  into  forty  of  small  ale,  and  while  still  warm 
to  be  stirred  exceedingly  well   'with  a  clean  arm  till 
they  be  perfectly  incorporated.'     That  touch  about  the 
clean  arm  is  painfully  suggestive. 

Sir  Kenelm's  book  is  full  of  invalid  cookery,  as  he 
was  continually  trying  fresh  experiments  to  nourish  his 
wife  in  her  decline.  Snail  soup  was  one  of  the  things 
with  which  he  sought  to  restore  her,  and  the  great 
edible  snail,  such  as  is  eaten  in  France,  is  said  to  be 
still  found  in  large  quantities  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Gothurst,  having  been  imported  by  him  for  the  purpose. 
The  following  would  be  more  attractive  to  a  modern 
invalid : — 

'  Flommery  Caudle. — To  make  good  Wheaten  Flom- 
mery  you  must  soak  the  best  wheaten  bran  in  water 
for  3  or  4  days,  and  then  strain  out  the  milky  water 
from  it,  and  boil  it  up  to  a  gelly,  seasoning  it  with 
sugar  and  orange-flower  water.  Now  mix  ale  and 
wine  and  put  into  the  mixture  a  few  spoonfuls  of  the 
flommery.  After  stirring  it  all  up  there  will  be  found 
remaining  in  the  caudle  some  lumps  of  the  congealed 
flommery,  which  are  not  ungrateful.'  This  he  describes 
as  *a  pleasant  and  wholesome  caudle/ 

'  Pressis  Nourissant  for  Invalids. — Only  very  slightly 
roast  half  a  leg  of  mutton,  a  piece  of  veal,  and  a  capon, 
and  while  still  partially  raw,  squeeze  all  their  juice  in 
a  press  with  screws  ;  add  the  juice  of  an  orange  and 
just  take  the  chill  off.  This  juice  has  cured  persons 
suffering  from  consumption.' 

Alas,  poor  Venetia !  neither  this  juice  nor  the  snail 
soup  were  of  any  avail. 

'  Oatmeal  Pap. — A  little  oatmeal  should  be  boiled  in 

*  milk  then  the  milk  should  be  strained,  some  butter 
'  and  yolk  of  eggs  should  be  beaten  with  it,  and  as  a 


24o    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

'  flavouring  a  little    orange-flower  water  and   amber- 
6  grease.' 

Water  gruel,  he  says,  ought  to  be  boiled  till  it  rises 
'  in  great  ebullition  in  great  galloping  waters,'  when 
the  upper  surface  *  hath  no  gross  visible  oatmeal  in  it, 
'  it  should  be  skimmed  off,  and  it  will  be  found  much 
<  better  than  the  part  which  remaineth  below  of  the 

*  oatmeal.'      Yet,   he  carelessly  adds,    'even   that  will 
'  make   good  water  gruel  for  the  servants ' !      What 
would  ours  say  to  that?     To  the  superior  decoction, 
nutmeg,  an  egg,  some  butter,  and  some  sugar  are  to 
be  added,  and  a  little  red-rose  water. 

Another  invalid  recipe  was  obtained  from  a  '  Jesuite 
that  came  from  China,'  who  said  that  the  Chinese  'beat 
'  up  the  yelks  of  two  eggs  with  fine  sugar  and  then  pour 
4  a  pint  of  tea  upon  them,  stirring  them  well.'  This 
preparation  *  presently  discusseth  and  satisfieth  all  raw- 
'  ness  and  indigence  of  the  stomach,  flyeth  suddenly 

*  over  the  whole  body  into  the  veins,  and  strengtheneth 
'  exceedingly.'     The  same  Jesuit  instructed  Sir  Kenelm 
that  tea  should  not  stand  longer  than  you  can  say  the 
Miserere  very  leisurely,  and  then  be  poured  upon  the 
sugar  in  the  cups. 

A  good  many  domestic  recipes  are  given  by  Evelyn  in 
his  Acetaria,  or  discourse  upon  sallets,  which  he  describes 
as  *  crude  and  fresh  herbs  to  be  eaten  with  some  acetous 
'  juice,  oyle,  salt,  etc.,  to  give  them  a  grateful  gust  and 
'  vehicle.'  It  is  astonishing  what  a  variety  the  gardens 
of  that  day  contained,  and  how  well  their  virtues  and 
properties  were  understood.  He  gives  full  descriptions 
of  all  garden  herbs  and  vegetables  as  well  as  'sallets.' 

'  The  Composition  of  a  Sallet. — All  should  fall  into 
'  their  places  like  the  notes  in  music,  in  which  there 
'  should  be  nothing  harsh  or  grating :  and  tho'  admit- 
'  ting  some  discords  (to  distinguish  and  illustrate  the 
'  rest)  striking  in  the  more  sprightly  and  sometimes 
'  gentler  notes  reconcile  all  dissonances  and  melt  them 


I 


THE  HOUSEWIFE  241 

'  into  an  agreeable  Composition.'  Our  author  then 
diverges  at  some  length  to  refer  to  classical  examples, 
to  Milton's  representation  of  Eve  '  dressing  of  a  sallet 
for  her  Angelicall  Guest.'  He  takes  up  the  thread 
again  with  *  the  discreet  choice  and  mixture  of  the 
'  Oxoleon,  so  as  neither  the  Prodigal,  Niggard,  nor 
'  Insipid  should  preside.  The  drying  and  cleaning 
lightly  in  a  cloth  is  touched  upon,  and  the  mustard,  it 
is  insisted,  should  be  the  best  Tewksberry.  At  length 
he  reaches  '  Seventhly,  eggs  boiled  moderately  hard, 
'  part  to  be  mingl'd  and  mash'd  with  the  oyl  etc.,  part 
'  cut  into  quarters  and  eat  with  the  herb.  Eighthly, 
'  that  the  knife  be  of  silver,  and  by  no  means  of  steel. 
'  Ninthly,  the  dish  should  be  of  porcelain  or  of  the 
'  Holland  Delfft  ware.  Lastly,  the  sallet  gatherer 
'  should  be  provided  with  a  light  and  neatly  made 
'  Withy  Dutch  basket,  divided  into  several  partitions.' 

In  another  place  he  notes  that  'the  roots  of  the  red 
'  beet  pared  into  thin  circles  and  slices  are  by  the  French 

*  and  Italians  contrived  into  curious  figures  to  adorn 
<  their  Sallets.' 

Of  garlic  he  observes,  <  'tis  not  for  ladies'  palats  nor 
those  who  court  them.' 

*  Spinach  boiled  to  a  pult  without  other  water  than 

*  its  own  moisture,  is  a  most  excellent  Condiment  with 
'  Butter,  Vinegar  or  Lime  for  almost  all  sorts  of  boyl'd 
1  Flesh,  and  may  accompany  a  sick  man's  diet.     It  is 
'  profitable  for  the  aged. ' 

There  are  several  suggestions  how  to  treat  *  Artichaux.' 
'  The  heads  being  slit  in  quarters,  eaten  raw  with  oyl,  a 

*  little  Vinegar,  Salt  and  Pepper,  gratefully  recommend 

*  a  glass  of  Wine  ;  Dr.  Muffet  says  at  the  end  of  Meals. 
'  Or  while  tender  and  small,  fried  in  fresh  Butter  crisp 

*  with  Persley.      The  bottoms  are  also  baked  in  Pies 

*  with  Marrow,  Dates,  and  other  rich  Ingredients.' 

Pickled  broom-buds  seems  rather  an  odd  idea,  also 
pickled  cowslips  ;  but  this  latter  recipe  is  rather  fasci- 

Q 


242     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

nating.  They  must  be  '  pick't  very  clean  ;  to  each 
1  Pound  of  Flowers  allow  about  a  Ib  of  Loaf  Sugar,  and 
4  a  pt  of  White  Wine  Vinegar,  which  boil  to  a  Syrup 

*  and  cover   it   scalding   hot.      Thus   you   may   pickle 
'  Clove  Gilly-flowers,  Elder  and  other  Flowers  which 
'  being  eaten  make  a  very  agreeable  Sallet.' 

Other  novelties  are  Carrot  Pudding  and  Herb  Tart, 
which  some  readers  may  like  to  try.  For  Carrot 
Pudding  take  half  as  much  of  the  crust  of  manchet 
bread  as  of  grated  carrot,  with  half  a  pint  of  fresh 
cream,  half  a  pound  of  butter  and  six  new-laid  eggs, 
half  a  pound  of  sugar  and  a  little  salt,  grated  nutmeg 
and  beaten  spice. 

*  Herb  Tart.— Boil  fresh  Cream  or  Milk  with  a  little 
1  grated  Bread  or  Naples  Biscuit  to  thicken  it,  a  pretty 
'  quantity  of  Chervile,  Spinach,  Beete,  or  what  Herb 
4  you  please  being  first  parboil'd  and  chop'd.  Then 

*  add  Macaroon  or  Almond  beaten  to  a  Paste,  a  little 
'  sweet  Butter,   the  Yolk  of  5  Eggs,  3  of  the  whites 
'  rejected.      To  these  add  some  Corinths  plump'd   in 
'  milk  or  boil'd  therein,  Sugar,  Spice  at  discretion,  and 
'  stirring  it  altogether  over  the  Fire,   bake   it   in   the 
'  Tart-pan.' 

Instructions  are  also  given  in  the  same  book  for 
herb-tea,  cowslip  wine,  vinegar,  and  liqueurs.  The 
publication  of  the  book  was  some  years  later  than  our 
half-century,  but  Mr.  Evelyn  says  he  had  these  recipes 
from  lady  friends  and  they  were  usually  traditional  in 
families,  and  we  may  be  sure  that  most,  if  not  all  of 
them,  had  been  long  in  use.  Cookery  books  were 
carefully  treasured  and  handed  down  :  Dame  Margaret 
Verney  bequeathed  hers  expressly  by  will  to  certain 
of  her  daughters. 

In  an  old  MS.  book  written  out  by  one  Lucy  Harris 
in  1816,  is  a  recipe  for  bread  pudding,  *  Out  of  a  Book 
written  in  1677.'  *  Take  a  penny  white  loaf,  chip  it 

*  and  halve  it,  take  out  the  crumb  leaving  the  shell 


THE  HOUSEWIFE  243 

<  whole,  put  to  the  crumb  a  little  milk,  sugar,  nutmeg, 

<  and  currants,  and  one  egg.     Stir  it  well,  put  it  into 
*  the  shell  with  a  few  slices  of  butter,  tie  it  up  close 
'  in  a  cloth,  and  boil  it  an  hour  and  a  half.     Butter  it.' 

Besides  medicines  and  cordials,  in  the  still-room  were 
also  prepared  perfumes  and  essences,  washes  for  pre- 
serving the  hair  and  complexion,  elder-flower  water 
for  sunburn,  rosemary  to  cleanse  the  hair,  or  such 
occult  preparations  as  the  '  paste  for  making  white  the 
hands '  which  Anne  Lee  imparted  to  the  Verney  sisters 
as  such  a  precious  secret. 

In  the  midst  of  such  fully  occupied  days,  the  mother 
of  a  large  family  would  still  find  time  to  write  to 
absent  husband  or  son,  long  leisurely  epistles,  and  to 
cultivate  her  own  mind.  Lady  Brilliana  Harley  seems 
to  have  been  a  great  reader,  and  frequently  comments 
on  books  in  her  letters  to  her  son.  The  poet  Abraham 
Cowley  traced  his  first  love  for  poetry  to  the  Faery 
Queen  which  he  found  in  the  window  of  his  mother's 
room  ;  probably  in  one  of  those  charming  little  narrow 
bookshelves,  just  big  enough  to  hold  a  few  pet  volumes, 
which  may  still  be  seen  in  the  window  recesses  of  old 
houses.  Most  likely  the  taste  which  made  him  appre- 
ciate it  was  inherited  from  her.  And  hers  was  not  the 
fashionable  taste  of  a  dame  of  high  degree  ;  her  hus- 
band was  only  a  grocer  in  St.  Dunstan's.  Another 
excellent  middle-class  mother  whose  virtues  are  remem- 
bered by  an  affectionate  son,  was  Mrs.  Wallington, 
wife  of  a  turner  in  Eastcheap,  whose  portrait  will  be 
familiar  to  all  readers  of  Green's  Short  History  :  it 
shall  be  quoted  for  the  benefit  of  those  who  may  not 
recall  it.  <  She  was  a  pattern  of  sobriety  unto  many, 
*  very  seldom  seen  abroad  except  at  church  ;  when 
'  others  recreated  themselves  at  holidays  and  other 
1  times,  she  would  take  her  needle-work  and  say, 

"  Here  is  my  recreation."  .  .  .  God  had  given  her 
'  a  pregnant  wit  and  an  excellent  memory.     She  was 


244    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

1  very  ripe  and  perfect  in  all  stones  of  the  Bible,  like- 
1  wise  in  all  the  stones  of  the  Martyrs,  and  could 
1  readily  turn  to  them  ;  she  was  also  perfect  and  well 

*  seen  in  the  English  Chronicles,  and  in  the  descents 

*  of  the  Kings  of  England.     She  lived  in  holy  wed- 
'  lock  with   her  husband   twenty  years,    wanting  but 
'  four  days.' 

James  Whitelocke,  who  was  the  son  of  a  merchant, 
makes  grateful  and  affectionate  mention  of  his  mother 
in  his  Liber  Famelicus.  Being  early  left  a  widow  with 
four  sons,  she  married  again  ;  very  unhappily  as  it 
turned  out,  but  her  own  misfortunes  did  not  make  her 
neglect  the  education  of  her  children.  She  'set  her 
'  heart  on  bringing  them  up  in  as  good  a  sort  as  any 
'  gentleman  in  England  would  do,  as  singing,  dancing, 
'  playing  on  the  lute  and  other  instruments,  the  Latin, 

*  Greek,   Hebrew,  and  French  tongues,   and   to  write 
'  fair.'      She  lived  to  near  eighty.      'She  went  away 
4  even  with  old  age  as  a  candle  that  goeth  out,'  says 
her  son.     '  There  preached  at  her  funerall  doctor  John 
1  Done,    the    parson   that   had   been    my  acquaintance 
'  when  he  was  at  Christ  Church  in  Oxford.' 

In  a  little-known  book  called  Mundus  Muliebris, 
John  Evelyn  in  his  old  age  looks  back  fondly  to  the 
'  good  old  ways '  of  his  youth,  and  contrasts  them  with 
the  new  fashions  of  the  Restoration.  An  extract  from 
it  will  give  a  good  idea  of  the  old-fashioned  dame  be- 
longing to  the  country  squirearchy.  He  is  speaking 
of  the  fitting  out  of  a  bride,  and  comparing  the  things 
she  required  with  those  that  her  grandmother  would 
have  thought  sufficient. 

'  Good  housewifery  and  all  Oeconomical  virtues  were 
'  then  in  reputation.  .  .  .  The  presents  which  were 
<  made  when  all  was  concluded  were  a  Ring,  a  Neck- 
4  lace  of  Pearls  and  perhaps  another  faire  Jewell,  the 
1  Bona  Paraphernalia  of  her  prudent  Mother,  whose 
1  nuptial  Kirtle,  Gown  and  Petticoat  lasted  as  many 


THE  HOUSEWIFE  245 

*  years  as  the  happy  couple  lived  together,  and  were 

*  at  last  bequeathed  with  a  purse  of  old  gold  Rose- 

*  nobles,  Spur-royals,  and  Spankers  as  an  House-Loom 

*  to  her  Grand-Daughter.      They  had   Cupboards  of 
4  ancient  useful    Plate,    whole   Chests  of  Damask  for 
4  the  Table  and  store  of  fine  Holland  Sheets  (white  as 
4  the  driven  Snow)  and  fragrant  of  Rose  and  Lavender 

*  for  the  Bed  ;  and  the  sturdy  oaken  Bed  and  Furniture 

*  of  the  House  lasted  one  whole  Century  ;  the  Shovel- 
4  board  and  other  long  Tables  both  in  Hall  and  Parlour 
4  were  as  fix'd  as  the  Freehold  ;  nothing  was  moveable 
4  save  the  Joynt-stools,  the  Black  Jacks,  silver  Tankards 
4  and  Bowls  ;  and  though  many  things  fell  out  between 
4  the  cup  and  the  lip  when  Nappy  Ale,  March  Bere, 
4  Metheglin,  Malmsey,  and  old  Sherry  got  the  ascend- 
4  ant  among  the  blew-coats  and  Badges,  they  sung  Old 
4  Symon  and  Cheviot  Chace  and  danced  Brave  Arthur, 
4  and  were  able  to  draw  a  bow  that  made  the  proud 
4  Monsieur  tremble  at  the  Gray-Goose  Feather  :  'Twas 
4  then  Ancient  Hospitality  was  kept  up  in  Town  and 
4  Country,    the   Poor   were    relieved    bountifully,   and 
4  Charity  was  as  warm  as  the  Kitchen  where  the  Fire 
4  was  perpetual. 

4  In  those  happy  days  Surefoot,  the  grave  and  steady 
4  mare,  carried  the  good  Knight  and  his  courteous  Lady 
4  behind  him  to  Church  and  to  visit  the  neighbourhood 
4  without  so  many  Hell-Carts,  ratling  Coaches  and  a 
4  Crewe  of  damme  Lacqueys,  which  a  grave  Livery 
4  Servant  or  two  supplyed  who  rid  before  and  made 
4  way  for  his  Worship.'  .  .  . 

The  young  ladies  of  this  Golden  Age,  we  read,  4  put 
4  their  hands  to  the  Spindle,  nor  disdained  they  the 
4  Needle,  were  obsequious  and  helpful  to  their  Parents 
4  ...  did  not  read  so  many  Romances,  see  so  many 

*  Plays  and  smutty  Farces.     Honest  Gleek,  Ruff  and 
4  Honours  diverted  the  Ladies  at  Christmas.     Whole- 
4  some  plain    Dyet  and   Kitching   Physick   preserved 


246    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

'  them  in  good  Health,  and  there  were  no  Hysterical 
'  Fits.  .  .  .  They  could  touch  the  Lute  and  Virginals 

*  or    sing     "  Like    to    the     Damask    Rose."       They 
1  danced   the   Canarys,    Spanish  Pavane,  and   Sellen- 

*  ger's  Round  upon  Sippets  ;  with  as  much  Grace  and 
4  Loveliness    as    any    Isaac    Monsieur    or    Italian    of 

*  them    all    can    teach    with    his   Fop-call   and   Apish 
'  Postures/ 

Truly  John  Evelyn  was  Laudator  temporis  acti ;  yet 
we  cannot  doubt  there  was  a  charm  long  vanished 
about  those  old  simple  days  and  simple  ways. 


CHAPTER    XVI 

NEEDLEWORK 

WHEN  we  regard  the  beautiful  examples  of  the  em- 
broidery of  the  seventeenth  century  which  time  has 
spared,  and  consider  the  many  and  various  avocations 
of  the  ladies  of  that  day,  we  marvel  how  they  found 
leisure  to  pursue  an  art  so  elaborate.  For  their  needle- 
work was  no  hasty  outlining  of  a  slap-dash  design,  nor 
filling  in  of  one  begun  at  the  fancy-shop  with  *  materials 
to  finish '  all  ready  to  hand  ;  no  crazy  patchwork  nor 
scrap  of  crochet  that  could  just  be  snatched  up  at  odd 
minutes.  No  ;  it  was  the  laborious  practising  of  an  art 
with  a  conscientious  industry  that  puts  us  to  the  blush. 
True,  their  tasks  varied  with  the  changing  seasons  :  the 
labours  of  the  still-room  were  not  always  so  onerous  as 
they  were  in  summer  and  autumn  ;  moreover  their  days 
were  a  good  deal  longer  than  ours,  as  it  was  not  then 
the  custom  to  spend  half  a  summer  morning  in  bed. 
Then  there  were,  of  course,  long  winter  afternoons,  for 
our  ancestresses  dined  at  twelve,  and  were  by  no  means 
so  much  given  to  out-door  exercise  as  we  are,  so  there 
would  be  several  hours  before  dusk,  seldom  invaded  by 
visitors,  in  the  country  at  least,  during  which  deeply 
interesting  needle-pictures  might  grow  apace.  Still, 
when  we  reflect  on  the  daily  household  cares,  the  daily 
practices  of  religion,  we  are  fain  to  confess  that  they 
must  have  made  good  use  of  their  time  to  have  left 
such  monuments  of  their  skill  and  patience  as  have 
been  handed  down  in  many  families. 

247 


248    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

As  learning  began  with  the  horn-book,  so  needle- 
work with  the  sampler,  unless,  indeed,  the  hemming 
of  plain  frills  or  sewing  a  white  seam  had  precedence. 
Perhaps  some  readers  who  have  had  old-fashioned 
nurses  may  remember  the  square  of  crash  or  coarse 
canvas  whereon  they  learned  to  figure  the  letters  of  the 
alphabet  and  numerals  in  cross-stitch  for  the  marking 
of  linen,  together  with  a  little  square  house  at  the  top, 
a  Noah's  ark  tree  on  each  side,  and  perhaps  a  couple  of 
stags  or  lions,  and  a  pair  of  wooden-looking  doves,  the 
whole  enclosed  in  a  border  of  key  pattern  or  conven- 
tional flowers.  We  might,  perhaps,  expect  to  find 
samplers  getting  cruder  and  more  elementary  as  we 
go  further  back,  but  the  very  contrary  is  the  case.  Both 
industry  and  eyesight  seem  to  have  deteriorated  with 
the  passage  of  time.  Early  samplers  are  of  an  exquisite 
fineness  of  material  and  also  of  stitch,  of  which  there  is 
an  infinite  variety,  and  far  greater  taste  is  displayed 
both  in  form  of  ornament  and  in  colouring,  but 
gradually  they  become  coarser  and  more  garish,  till 
by  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century  they  arrive 
at  the  horrors  of  mere  cross-stitch  in  Berlin  wool  on 
coarse  canvas,  and  finally  disappear  unlamented. 

According  to  Mr.  Marcus  Huish,1  whose  exhaustive 
treatise  on  old  English  tapestry  is  a  perfect  treasure- 
house  of  information,  samplers  of  the  date  we  are  con- 
sidering are  remarkably  scarce.  Whether  the  Civil 
War  swept  them  away  together  with  horn-books  and 
many  other  things  thought  valueless,  it  is  difficult  to 
say.  Undoubtedly  little  girls  of  that  day  must  have 
worked  them,  references  to  needlework  lessons  are  so 
frequent,  and  they  surely  practised  their  stitches  in 
the  traditional  manner,  as  there  are  many  extant  of  the 
time  of  Elizabeth  and  of  subsequent  years,  and  it  is  not 
likely  that  the  art  was  dropped  and  taken  up  again. 
Shakespeare  refers  to  it  in  the  familiar  passage  in  which 

1  Samplers  and  Tapestry  Embroideries,  by  Marcus  Huish,  LL.B. 


NEEDLEWORK  249 

Helena,   reminding  Hermia  of  their  early  friendship, 
says — 

We,  Hermia,  like  two  artificial  gods, 

Have  with  our  needles  created  both  one  flower, 

Both  on  one  sampler,  sitting  on  one  cushion. 

The  exquisite  specimens  belonging  to  Mrs.  Head, 
and  figured  so  admirably  in  the  book  just  referred  to, 
are,  however,  by  no  means  the  work  of  a  child,  but 
rather  that  of  a  practised  hand,  storing  up  beautiful 
designs  wherever  she  could  meet  with  them  so  as  to 
have  them  by  her  for  use  in  elaborate  pieces  of  tapestry, 
both  for  the  sake  of  the  subjects  and  for  the  stitches. 
For  the  number  of  stitches  to  be  mastered  was  consider- 
able, and  some  must  have  been  of  great  difficulty  to  set 
evenly.  The  simplest  were  cross-stitch,  tent-stitch,  long 
and  short  stitch,  crewel  and  feather-stitch.  Taylor's 
poem  on  'The  Needle's  Excellency'  enumerates  an 
immense  variety  of  fancy  stitches,  and  Rees's  Encyclo- 
paedia reckons  up  many  more.  Spanish  stitch,  tent  on 
the  finger,  tent  on  the  frame,  Irish,  fore,  gold,  twist, 
fern,  broad,  rosemary,  or  chip  stitch ;  raised  work, 
Geneva  work,  cut  or  laid  work  ;  back-stitch,  queen's, 
satin,  finny,  chain,  fisher's,  bow,  cross,  needlework- 
purl,  virgin's  device,  open  cut-work,  thorough  stitch, 
rock-work,  net-work,  and  tent-work, — '  All  of  which 
'  are  swete  manners  of  work  wrought  by  the  needle 
*  with  silk  of  all  natures,  purls,  wyres,  and  weft  or 
'  foreign  breed '  (braid). 

The  square  bordered  sampler  appears  to  have  been 
a  later  variety :  these  are  chiefly  long  strips  of  linen 
crash  with  sections  of  patterns  following  each  other 
without  any  order.  The  regularly  arranged  alphabet 
does  not  appear  on  early  examples,  but  sentences  and 
mottoes  were  often  worked,  sometimes  whole  poems, 
for  one  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  maids  of  honour  wrote 
a  sonnet  on  her  royal  mistress's  death,  and  worked  it 


250    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

in  red  silk  upon  a  sampler.  It  was  also  customary  to 
work  or  paint  proverbs,  moral  sentences,  or  scraps  of 
verse  on  tapestry  hangings  called  painted  cloths.  In 
Puritan  days  the  didactic  verses  became  a  great  feature 
of  the  sampler. 

The  chief  contents  of  the  sampler  of  Stuart  times 
were,  first,  ornamental  designs  of  great  beauty,  pro- 
bably copied  from  the  Oriental  goods  so  largely  imported 
and  so  much  valued  ;  flowers  from  nature  imitated  in  a 
more  or  less  conventional  manner  from  the  real  ones, 
roses  inclining  most  to  formality  of  treatment,  while  car- 
nations, honeysuckle,  and  strawberry,  both  in  fruit  and 
in  flower,  and  love-in-a-mist  were  given  more  according 
to  nature.  Next  come  animals,  the  lion  and  the  stag 
being  the  favourites,  and  birds  of  a  curious  three- 
cornered  shape. 

From  these  beginnings  the  art  of  the  needle  branched 
out  into  two  principal  lines,  the  decorative  and  the 
pictorial,  the  latter  coming  very  much  into  fashion 
during  the  first  half  of  the  century.  If  that  period  is 
poor  in  samplers,  it  is  conspicuously  rich  in  tapestry 
pictures,  of  which  many  most  interesting  illustrations 
are  given  in  Mr.  Huish's  invaluable  book.  It  looks  as 
if,  after  combining  flowers,  birds,  and  animals  in  a 
subject  approaching  to  a  picture,  some  daring  worker 
had  made  the  bold  step  of  introducing  the  human 
figure  and  some  human  action,  thereby  sacrificing 
decorative  beauty  to  pictorial  interest.  This  has  always 
been  the  bane  of  English  art,  the  English  mind  in- 
stinctively leaning  to  the  interest  of  the  subject  rather 
than  to  the  beauty  of  form  and  colour.  However,  if 
these  tapestry  pictures  are  not  beautiful,  they  are  most 
quaint  and  interesting,  and  no  doubt  gave  keen  pleasure 
to  the  designer — there  is  such  evident  zest  in  the  in- 
troduction of  odd  little  unimportant  details,  such  as 
curly  wigs,  pearl  necklaces  made  of  tiny  beads,  woolly 
lambs,  lap-dogs,  etc. 


NEEDLEWORK  251 

Very  likely  the  first  impulse  to  the  creation  of  these 
wonderful  pictures  may  have  been  the  desire  to  emulate 
the  woven  tapestries  which,  under  the  patronage  of  King 
James,  were  becoming  very  fashionable.  He  had  given 
'  the  making  of  three  baronets  '  to  Sir  Francis  Crane  to 
set  up  a  factory  at  Mortlake.  The  Archbishop  of  York 
gave  ^2500  for  four  pieces  of  arras  made  there,  repre- 
senting the  four  seasons,  and  in  1649  a  set  of  the  five 
senses  from  Oatlands  Park  was  sold  for  only  £270.  The 
Raphael  cartoons  were  copied  there,  and  no  doubt  some 
of  the  storied  hangings  and  panels  from  Corfe  Castle 
were  from  the  same  place.  An  immense  piece  of 
tapestry,  worked  in  cross-stitch  in  worsted  upon  canvas, 
formed  the  wall-hangings  of  an  old  house  in  Hatton 
Gardens.  It  is  a  picture  containing  several  life-sized 
figures  in  the  style  of  the  Mortlake  designs,  but  the 
hand-work  has  a  rougher  and  certainly  a  richer  effect. 

In  the  smaller  style  of  picture  there  is  a  very  fascin- 
ating piece  at  South  Kensington,  of  which  an  illustra- 
tion is  given.  It  is  a  panel  of  white  satin  elaborately 
embroidered,  depicting  Charles  i.  seated  under  a  tent 
with  the  queen  and  her  attendants  advancing  on  the 
right  hand  ;  in  the  foreground  were  wild  animals  in 
raised  work,  probably  emblematic  of  a  millennial  con- 
dition which  was  unhappily  not  realised.  Through 
wear  and  tear  an  interesting  point  is  displayed  :  the 
tiger  having  split  a  little  shows  the  stuffing  of  ends  of 
frayed  silk  over  which  he  had  been  worked  to  give  him 
roundness  of  form.  Royal  pageants  were  very  favourite 
subjects,  giving  such  scope  for  embroidered  garments. 
Scenes  from  Old  Testament  history  were  also  much  in 
favour,  especially  Hagar  and  Ishmael,  the  finding  of 
Moses,  and  Susannah  and  the  elders.  The  working  of 
the  hair  or  of  woolly  animals  like  sheep  is  very  curious  : 
sometimes  real  hair  was  used,  but  more  often  they 
were  worked  in  silks  in  a  close  knotted  stitch  like 
little  curls.  The  faces  were  sometimes  painted  on 


252     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

smooth  silk  and  applique  on  to  the  fabric,  but  usually 
they  were  done  entirely  with  the  needle  in  a  fine  satin 
stitch. 

Occasionally  these  pictures  were  worked  for  decora- 
tive purposes  as  cushions,  screens,  or  caskets.  A 
wonderfully  well-preserved  one  of  the  Judgment  of 
Paris  forms  the  lid  of  a  casket  in  the  possession  of 
Mr.  Marcus  Huish,  and  is  given  in  his  book.  This  is 
dated  about  1630,  and  is  marvellously  clear  and  fresh  in 
colouring.  This  period  was  the  zenith  of  the  wrought 
picture.  It  soon  began  to  decline,  having  grown  real- 
istic till  it  had  become  a  toy  rather  than  an  art,  and 
under  Charles  n.  it  was  further  degraded  by  being  done 
in  beads,  after  which  it  speedily  fell  into  disrepute. 
Industry,  moreover,  in  the  lax  days  of  the  Restoration, 
not  improbably  went  a  little  out  of  fashion. 

More  lovely,  if  less  quaint  and  characteristic,  are  the 
exquisite  pieces  of  decorative  work  which  have  come 
down  to  us  from  the  early  part  of  the  century.  For 
these  the  workers  had  evidently  gone  for  inspiration  to 
the  designs  of  Oriental  embroideries.  In  most  of  them, 
while  the  characteristic  features  of  the  flowers  and  birds 
introduced  are  retained,  they  are  kept  entirely  subor- 
dinate to  the  general  design,  and  there  is  no  attempt  at 
being  realistic.  One  very  perfect  specimen  is  a  coverlet 
in  the  possession  of  Mr.  H.  Lucas,  in  which  vines  and 
roses  are  twined  together  and  surrounded  with  a  border 
of  carnations,  pansies,  and  sunflowers.  The  colouring 
is  most  harmoniously  blended.  How  much  we  should 
like  to  know  whether  the  '  greate  wroughte  sheete ' 
which  Ralph  Verney  playfully  twitted  his  wife  with 
having  had  so  long  in  hand  was  something  of  this  kind. 
Most  likely  ;  a  tapestry  picture  would  hardly  have  been 
on  so  large  a  scale.  Did  sweet  Anne  Murray,  who  had 
been  so  carefully  trained  in  all  sorts  of  needlework  and 
never  permitted  to  be  idle,  employ  her  clever  fingers  in 
fashioning  such  pinks  and  roses  ?  Or  did  these  ladies 


CAVALIER  HAT 

South  Kensington  Museum. 


EMBROIDERED  GLOVES  FROM  THE 
ISHAM  COLLECTION 

South.  Kensington  Museum. 


LINEN  NIGHTCAP  FROM  THE 
ISHAM  COLLECTION 

South  Kensington  Museum. 


NEEDLEWORK  253 

devote  their  skill  to  producing  laborious  and  curious 
pictures,  either  loyal  or  religious  ? 

Unlike  Mrs.  Hutchinson,  whose  passion  for  books 
made  her  averse  to  her  needle,  Lady  Falkland,  book- 
worm as  she  was,  was,  it  may  be  remembered,  '  skilful 
and  curious  in  working,'  though,  as  her  daughter 
quaintly  adds,  no  one  who  knew  her  would  ever  have 
believed  she  knew  how  to  hold  a  needle  unless  they  had 
seen  it.  Nevertheless  she  not  only  worked  with  her 
own  hands  but  set  her  maids  to  work  on  elaborate 
pieces  of  tapestry,  teaching  and  directing  all  herself. 
But  here  again  we  are  left  to  imagination  as  to  subjects, 
and  are  not  told  whether  it  was  the  decorative,  the  pic- 
torial, or  the  useful  to  which  she  leaned.  Good  Mrs. 
Wallington,  whose  son  has  left  such  an  affectionate 
portrait  of  her,  preferred,  as  he  said,  her  needle  as  a 
recreation  to  any  gadding  about,  and  he  adds  :  '  She 
1  was  of  fine  invention  for  drawing  works  and  other 
i  choice  works,  and  many  a  fine  and  neat  piece  of  work 
'  hath  she  soon  despatched,  she  would  so  apply  to  it ; 
1  besides  a  very  good  judgment  in  setting  out  works  in 
'  colours  either  for  birds  or  flowers.' 

Another  who  displayed  notable  ingenuity  with  her 
needle,  at  any  rate  in  her  younger  days,  was  Mary 
Boyle.  Lady  Clayton,  if  she  spoilt  her  a  little,  trained 
her  well  in  this  respect,  and  her  fond  father  in  his  diary 
makes  frequent  mention  of  the  little  gifts  worked  for 
him  by  her  own  childish  fingers  for  Christmas  or  the 
New  Year.  Nightcaps  beautifully  embroidered  are 
specified,  and  laced  handkerchiefs.  These  may  have 
been  hem-stitched  with  a  border  of  drawn  thread  of 
which  they  had  in  that  day  many  elaborate  patterns,  or 
perhaps  trimmed  round  with  needle-point.  Then  there 
were  garters  with  roses,  for  garters  were  then  always 
worn  in  sight  and  adorned  with  dainty  devices  ;  or  a 
purse  in  knotted  silk  wrought  with  silver  thread.  In 
her  later  life  we  hear  little  of  needlework ;  perhaps  she 


254    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

thought  it  a  vanity,  when  all  the  time  that  she  could 
spare  from  reading  to  or  amusing  her  gouty  lord  was 
spent  in  religious  reading  and  meditation,  or  else  in 
driving  hither  and  thither  to  hear  noted  preachers.  It 
is  hard  to  say  why,  but  the  Cavalier  dames  seem  to 
have  been  far  more  devoted  to  the  nee'dle  than  the 
Puritan  ladies,  who  somewhat  despised  it. 

A  singular  Puritan  custom  of  embroidering  texts  upon 
articles  of  apparel  is  referred  to  in  Jasper  Mayne's  City 
Match  in  1639 — 

Nay,  sir,  she  is  a  Puritan  at  her  needle  too  : 

She  works  religious  petticoats  ;  for  flowers 

She  '11  make  Church  histories  ;  besides, 

My  smock-sleeves  have  such  holy  embroideries 

And  are  so  learned,  that  I  fear  in  time 

All  my  apparel  will  be  quoted  by 

Some  pure  instructor. 

Minor  arts  of  needlework  occasionally  crop  up  in  the 
Verney  letters.  Sir  Ralph's  great  friend,  Lady  Sussex, 
who  was  always  giving  him  intricate  little  shopping 
commissions  when  he  was  in  town  on  his  parliamentary 
duties,  is  on  one  occasion  making  a  '  swite-bag '  (scent- 
bag),  and  is  apparently  hung  up  for  lack  of  narrow 
ribbon  and  lace  to  finish  it.  She  sends  minute 
directions : — 

*  It  you  would  pies  to  imploye  somebody  to  chuse 
1  me  out  a  lase  that  hath  but  very  litell  silver  in  itt  and 
1  not  above  a  spangle  or  two  in  a  peke  i  thinke  would 
4  do  will :  i  would  not  have  too  hevy  a  lase  :  aboute  the 
i  breth  of  a  threpeny  ribinge  very  litell  broder  will  bee 
'  enofe  ;  and  desier  Mrs.  Verney  i  pray  you  to  chuse 
i  me  out  some  ribinge  to  make  stringes  ;  six  yards  will 
4  bee  enofe  ;  some  shadoede  sattine  ribbinge  will  be  the 
'  best  of  forpeny  breth  and  i  would  fane  have  some  very 
4  littell  eginge  lase  as  slite  as  may  bee  to  ege  the 
*  stringes  and  but  littill  silver  in  itt ;  ten  yardes  will  be 
1  enofe. 


NEEDLEWORK  255 

Probably  Sir  Ralph  transacted  this  important  matter 
himself ;  he  was  great  at  doing  commissions  for  all  his 
friends  and  relations,  consequently  his  letters  are  full 
of  such  quaint  details  as  give  them  a  special  interest 
now. 

Nothing  sc  ems  to  have  been  too  large  and  nothing 
too  small  for  the  industry  of  our  forebears.  Bed-curtains, 
window  curtains,  hangings,  cushions,  footstools  were 
all  richly  adorned,  while  miniature  needle  pictures  were 
used  to  decorate  caskets  and  the  covers  of  books. 
Several  such  caskets,  with  mythological  subjects,  are 
given  in  the  illustrations  to  Mr.  Marcus  Huish's  book, 
and  a  very  lovely  one  was  presented  by  Charles  i.  to  the 
Collet  sisters  after  his  visit  to  Little  Gidding,  in  token 
of  the  pleasure  he  had  had  in  their  industry  and  the 
beautiful  workmanship  of  their  books.  These  books 
they  not  only  covered  with  embroidery,  but  bound  with 
their  own  hands.  The  casket  is  fitted  with  little  drawers, 
and  the  fronts  of  the  drawers,  as  well  as  the  outside,  are 
covered  with  silk  daintily  worked  with  flowers  in  satin 
stitch.  Satin  stitch  or  crewel,  or  long  and  short  stitch, 
were  usually  employed  for  flowers,  the  more  elaborate 
stitches,  such  as  knotted,  purl,  plush,  or  bird's-eye, 
being  reserved  for  pictures. 

Among  the  most  fascinating  varieties  of  fancy-work 
was  the  drawn  thread-work,  of  which  very  lovely 
examples  are  extant  in  old  samplers.1  It  was  of  two 
kinds :  that  in  which  the  threads  one  way  were  drawn 
out  and  the  cross-threads  woven  or  knotted  into  a 
pattern,  and  that  in  which  the  material  was  cut  away 
round  the  pattern,  the  edges  overcast,  and  either  united 
with  bars  or  filled  in  with  lace  stitches.  An  exquisite 
sampler  of  this  kind  of  work  belongs  to  Mrs.  C.  F. 
Millett,  and  is  dated  1649,  bearing  the  initials  S.  I.  D. 
It  is  a  regular  sampler  worked  in  rows.  The  top  row 
is  a  figure  subject,  the  little  people  being  completely 

1  Samplers  and  Tapestry  Embroideries. 


256    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

cut  round  and  attached  to  the  edge  by  finely  button- 
holed bars  ;  the  next  row  contains  the  worker's  mono- 
gram, a  mermaid,  and  a  tree,  while  the  following  rows 
are  very  lovely  conventional  patterns  of  varying  widths. 
It  is  strange  to  think  that  some  of  the  most  elaborate  of 
these  pieces  of  work  must  have  been  executed  during 
the  sad  years  1648-49 ; — one  wonders  what  sorrowful 
thoughts  may  have  been  sewed  into  them.  Shake- 
speare well  knew  a  woman's  mind  and  how  she  puts 
her  thoughts  into  her  work  when  he  wrote — 

Fair  Philomel,  she  but  lost  her  tongue, 
And  in  a  tedious  sampler  sewed  her  mind. 

In  many  samplers  drawn-thread  patterns  are  com- 
bined with  the  usual  alphabet  and  cross-stitch  patterns. 
This  is  the  case  in  one  of  the  early  seventeenth  century 
belonging  to  the  Rev.  Canon  Bliss.  The  third  and 
simpler  type  of  open-work,  beloved  by  our  mothers  and 
grandmothers,  is  also  found  in  samplers  of  this  period  : 
the  little  eyelet-holes  pierced  with  a  stiletto  and  over- 
sewn or  button-holed,  which  in  combination  with  short 
flat  satin  stitch  made  very  pretty  floriated  designs  for 
the  ornamenting  of  under-linen. 

In  the  fascination  of  these  various  kinds  of  fancy 
work  we  must  not  lose  sight  of  all  the  exquisite  stitchery 
put  into  plain  work.  All  under-clothes  in  those  days, 
as  well  as  most  dresses,  were  made  at  home,  and  those 
ladies  whose  needles  could  depict  kings  and  queens, 
lions  and  tigers,  roses  and  lilies  with  such  surprising 
skill,  did  not  disdain  to  stitch  the  wrist-bands  of  shirts 
for  their  husbands  and  sons,  nor  tiny  garments  for  their 
babies,  with  such  sewing  as  no  machine  could  rival  for 
regularity,  and  so  fine  that  modern  eyes  can  hardly  see 
the  stitches.  I  wonder  how  many  people  notice  the 
delicacy  of  the  fine  sewing  on  the  shirt  in  which 
Charles  i.  went  to  his  death,  its  even  hem-stitching 


NEEDLEWORK  257 

and  pearl-like  feather-work.  It  is  this,  far  more  than 
adornments  of  bone-lace  or  point-lace  edgings,  which 
draw  our  astonished  admiration.  And  it  was  not  only 
royalty  which  had  its  linen  thus  carefully  made  ;  other 
people's  shirts  may  not  be  put  into  exhibitions,  and, 
of  course,  have  rarely  been  preserved ;  but  what- 
ever white  seams  have  come  down  to  us  from  those 
days  are  not  unworthy  of  the  fingers  which  worked 
the  story  of  Abraham  and  Ishmael,  or  adorned  the 
great  wrought  sheets  with  garlands  of  honeysuckle 
or  iris. 

The  implements  used  in  this  industry  were  probably 
in  the  main  very  similar  to  our  own.  Thimbles  they 
certainly  had,  as  we  remember  James  Dillon  present- 
ing thimbles  to  Doll  Leake  and  Mary  Verney  ;  scissors 
too,  of  course,  and  most  likely  stilettos.  The  tambour 
needle  must  also  have  been  in  use,  for  tambour  work 
of  that  period  or  older  has  survived.  At  Tonacombe, 
in  North  Cornwall,  a  house  which  has  been  standing 
since  the  thirteenth  century,  are  some  ancient  curtains 
traditionally  known  as  Sir  Francis  Drake's  bed-curtains, 
which  appear  to  have  been  worked  with  the  tambour 
needle,  in  shades  of  dark  blue  on  a  ground  of  whitish 
holland.  Some  curious  little  tools,  the  like  of  which  we 
do  not  possess,  are  represented  in  Old  English  Samplers 
and  Tapestries:  they  are  something  like  thimbles,  made 
in  thin  wood,  with  two  rows  of  holes  pierced  round  the 
base,  and  are  supposed  to  have  been  used  for  moulds  for 
knotted  work,  perhaps  for  purses  such  as  Mary  Boyle's. 
There  were  also  long  spools  with  divisions  like  a  number 
of  reels  put  together,  on  which  silks  of  different  colours 
were  wound. 

Pattern-books  do  not  seem  to  have  been  extant.  The 
sources  were  pictures,  which  were  followed  with  great 
ingenuity  and  often  needless  literalness ;  Oriental  em- 
broideries ;  the  samplers  of  friends,  from  which  every 
lady  as  she  had  opportunity  would  make  collections 

R 


258     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

in  her  own  ;  and  the  flower-garden,  which  offered  an 
infinity  of  lovely  subjects — for  every  girl  was  taught 
to  draw  and  paint  flowers,  and  would  either  trace  the 
outline  on  the  linen  or  silk  of  the  foundation,  or  if 
skilful  enough  would  depict  them  with  her  needle 
immediately,  arranging  the  forms  as  she  went  along, 
to  suit  the  space  and  the  design  in  her  mind's  eye. 

In  these  latter  days  we  are  at  least  learning  to 
appreciate,  if  we  yet  hardly  rival,  the  needlework  of 
our  ancestresses.  Schools  of  art-needlework  are  spread- 
ing a  discriminating  taste  for  the  beautiful  work  of  an 
earlier  day,  though  it  is  to  be  feared  the  hurry  of 
modern  life  will  never  allow  the  practice  of  it  to  be- 
come as  general  as  it  was  in  those  quiet  homes  in 
which  a  woman  found  her  needle  her  chief  recreation. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

DRESS   AND   FASHION 

DRESS  plays  so  important  a  part  among  the  minor 
things  of  life  that  it  is  a  satisfaction  to  be  able  to 
picture  exactly  the  appearance  of  the  people  whose 
home  life  we  have  been  considering,  and  for  this 
period  we  are  especially  fortunate.  Not  only  was  it 
the  very  zenith  of  portrait-painting  in  England,  so 
that  every  person  of  fashion  has  left  one  or  more 
portraits  showing  him  (or  her)  in  his  habit  as  he  lived, 
but  the  favourite  painter  Vandyck  rendered  dress  with 
a  singular  understanding  and  appreciation  not  only  of 
its  pictorial  quality,  but  of  its  value  as  an  indication 
of  character. 

There  surely  never  was  a  time  when  dress  was  so 
beautiful  and  so  expressive  of  a  dignified  mode  as 
during  the  reigns  of  the  first  James  and  Charles. 
Midway  between  the  sumptuous  arrogance  of  the 
Elizabethan  era  and  the  lax  and  pseudo-classical  style 
which  the  Restoration  brought  over  from  the  French 
Court,  it  has  pre-eminently  the  qualities  of  beauty, 
modesty,  and  restraint.  The  gorgeous  brocaded  robes, 
showing  quilted  and  beaded  under-skirts,  the  long  hard 
bodices  stiffened  with  whalebone  and  encrusted  with 
embroidery  and  gold  lace,  the  huge  outstanding  ruffs 
of  the  Van  Somers  portraits,  have  in  Vandyck  de- 
veloped into  the  sober  loveliness  of  velvet,  satin,  pearls, 
and  point-lace.  The  curled  lovelocks  have  not  yet 
become  exaggerated  into  the  frizzled  periwig,  nor  has 

259 


260    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

the  lace  kerchief  slipped  wholly  off  the  shoulders  and 
bosoms  of  the  ladies,  as  it  does  with  Sir  Peter  Lely's 
or  Sir  Godfrey  Kneller's  Court  beauties. 

One  characteristic  of  the  times  is  that  the  dress  of 
the  men  is  no  less  beautiful  than  that  of  the  women, 
and  considerably  richer,  while  it  is  as  yet  almost  devoid 
of  the  foppery  and  frivolity  which  later  brought  about 
a  reaction  to  hopeless  ugliness.  The  dark  or  richly 
coloured  cloth  or  black  velvet  doublet  and  hose,  the 
short  cloak,  the  small  close  ruff  of  King  James's  time 
or  deep  lace  collar  and  cuffs  that  succeeded  it,  the  high- 
crowned  hat  with  its  wrought  gold  or  diamond  hat- 
band, or  the  broad-brimmed  soft  beaver  with  drooping 
feather,  the  long  silk  stockings  gartered  high  with  roses 
or  knots  of  ribbon,  the  buckled  shoes,  the  long  loose 
embroidered  Spanish  leather  gloves,  all  set  off  the  points 
of  a  handsome  man  or  carried  off  the  disadvantages  of 
a  plain  one.  Contrasting  a  gallery  of  Vandyck's  por- 
traits with  any  portrait  collection  of  modern  times,  it 
may  well  appear  that  beauty  was  commoner  then  than 
now,  especially  among  men  ;  yet  no  doubt  much  may 
be  set  down  to  the  greater  seemliness  of  the  fashions  of 
that  day. 

Nor  was  it  only  among  the  idle  Court  gallants  that 
richness  of  attire  prevailed :  merchants  went  quite  as 
handsomely  arrayed,  and  the  memoirs  of  Mr.  Marma- 
duke  Rawdon,  already  referred  to,  are  full  of  mention 
of  fine  clothes.  In  one  passage  his  preference  for  the 
best  is  set  forth. 

<When   Mr.    Rawdon  went  up  first  from  Hodsden 

*  to  London  he  was  to  be  new  clothed  after  the  English 
1  fashion,  which  was  then   blacke  cloothes   lind  with 
'  plush  for  black  suites,  and  for  collerd  clooths  a  tabie- 
4  dublett,  cloth  breches,  and  the  clooke  lind  with  the 

*  same  tabbie  of  the   dublett.      Itt    hapned   one   Mr. 
<  Flower,  his  unckle's  taylor,  had  taiken   measure  of 

*  him  for  his  cloothes,  but  had  forgot  to  ask  what  price 


DRESS  AND  FASHION  261 

(  he  would  have  his  cloth  plush  and   tabbie  of ;    soe 

*  he  chanced  to  come  to  his  unckle's  howse  in  Water 
4  Lane  when  his  unckle,  Captaine  Forster,  Mr.  Swin- 
4  arton,  Mr.  Thomas  Rawdon,  and  he  were  at  dinner  ; 
4  soe  his  unckle,  hearinge  he  was  in  the  yarde,  ordered 
4  him  to  be  brought  in  to  know  what  he  would.     He 
4  said  he  only  came  to  speake  with  Mr.  Duke  Rawdon, 
4  for  soe  he  cald  him,  to  know  of  what  price  he  would 
4  have  his  plush-clothe  and  tabbie  a  yarde.     They  told 

*  him  he  was  thir  to  answer  for  himselfe  ;  soe  he  an- 
4  swered  Mr.  Flower  that  he  was  a  stranger  in  England 
1  to  the  prises  of  thosse  commodities,  but  that  he  should 
1  buy  for  him  the  best  of  each  sorte  that  he  could  get 
4  for  mony,   att  which   his   unckle   smilinge  said,    "I 
4  "  commend    you,    nephew;    winn    gold    and    weare 
1  "gold."' 

Some  years  later,  when  he  was  on  his  way  from 
England  to  Teneriffe,  he  appears  still  more  sumptuous. 
4  Being  accompanied  with  severall  English  marchants, 

*  severall  Spanish  captaines  and  collonells  with  other 
4  grave  Dons  to  the  number  of  about  40,  most  of  them 

*  with  thir  gold  chains  about  thir  neckes,  he  tooke  horse 

*  att  his  own  howse  in  the  cittie  of  Lalaguna,  where 
4  they   went   in    much   order  through   the   cittie,    Mr. 

*  Rawdon    riding    the    last,    except   sarvants,    in    the 
4  middle    betwixt    a   Spanish    collonell    and    Captaine 
1  Henry    Isham,    then    chiefe    of  the    English   nation 
4  thir,  and  the  first  gentleman  that  ever  made  use  of 
4  a  coach  in  thosse  ilands.     Thosse  gentlemen  accom- 
4  panied   him   to   the   port  of  Orotava,  being  fifteene 
4  miles.     By  the  way  Mr.  Rawdon  had  ordered  a  treat- 
4  ment  to  be  provided  of  rosted  hens,  cold  Portugall 
4  gamons  of  bacon,  English  neat's  tongues,  and  other 
4  provisions,  with  exelent  wines  with  which  they  did 
4  refresh  themselves.     The  apparell  he  rid  in,  with  his 
4  chaine  of  gold  and  hatband  was  vallued  in  a  thousand 
4  Spanish  duccatts,  being  tow  hundreth  and  seventie  and 


262     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

*  five  pounds  sterlin.     His  hattband  was  of  esmeralds 

*  set  in  gold  ;  his  suite  was  of  fine  cloth  trimd  with  a 

*  small  silke  and  gold  fringe  ;  the  buttons  of  the  suite 
'  were  of  fine  gold,  goldsmith  worke  ;   his  rapier  and 
<  dagger  richly  hatcht  with  gold.     In  this  manner  he 
'  came  to  the  port  of  Orotava,  where  he  rested  that  night.' 

The  dress  of  the  women  was  simpler  but  quite  as 
charming.      The   tortured   hair   of  Queen    Elizabeth's 
day,  which  still  appears  in  the  Van  Somers  portraits, 
gave  place  later  to  the  little  natural-looking  curls  which 
Queen  Henrietta  Maria  brought  into  fashion  ;   a  few 
small  tendrils  upon  the  forehead   with  a  soft-looking 
mass  of  slightly  longer  ringlets  behind  the  ears,  and 
sometimes  quite  a  long  one  resting  on  the  shoulder, 
the  back  hair  coiled  into  a  simple  knot.     This  seems 
to  have  been  the  manner  in  which  nearly  all  the  ladies 
of  Charles's  reign  wore  their  hair.     Mary,  Lady  Verney, 
is  represented  so,  so  too  are  lovely  Lettice,  Lady  Falk- 
land, and  handsome,  dark-haired  Mrs.  Porter.     Young 
Lady  Verney  wears  pale  blue  satin  and  pearls  in  her 
portrait,   Lady   Falkland  black  velvet  and   point-lace. 
As  to  Mrs.  Porter,  being  the  wife  of  a  man  of  great 
artistic  taste  and  the  great  friend  of  the  court  painter, 
she  is  represented  many  times  over  in  a  great  variety 
of  handsome  and  becoming  garments.      Jewels  were 
few    and    good :    a   gold    chain,    a    pearl   necklace,    a 
diamond  brooch,  contented  the  aspirations  of  the  most 
fashionable  women.     Mrs.  Porter  indeed  was  the  lucky 
possessor  of  a  diamond  necklace,  which  she  lent  her 
husband  when  he  went  into  Spain,  to  wear  as  a  hat- 
band.     She  evidently   had   more  trinkets  than    most 
women.     A  goldsmith's  bill  has  been  preserved  among 
the  Porter  papers,  which  included  gold  ear-rings  that 
cost    twelve    pounds,    two     headpieces    at    seventeen 
pounds,  and  a  'cullett'  for  a  hatband  setting  that  cost 
a  pound.1 

1  Letters  of  Mr.  Endymion  Porter,  by  Mrs.  Townshend. 


DRESS  AND  FASHION  263 

This  lady's  tailor's  bills,  many  of  which  have  sur- 
vived, cast  a  good  deal  of  light  on  the  otherwise 
obscure  question  of  the  cost  of  dress  in  her  day,  as, 
contrary  to  the  usual  custom,  she  does  not  seem  to  have 
had  much  made  at  home.  In  most  cases  she  seems 
to  have  supplied  the  materials,  so  that  only  making, 
buttons,  linings,  etc.,  are  charged,  but  other  bills  show 
the  cost  of  the  various  stuffs.  Making  a  dress  cost 
one  pound  two  shillings,  and  six  holland  coats  cost 
a  guinea  to  make,  including  '  tape  and  fustian  to 
them.'  Materials  cost  a  great  deal  more  than  they 
do  now,  considering  the  change  in  the  value  of 
money.  Black  satin  was  fourteen  shillings  the  yard, 
black  taffety  sarcenet  nine  shillings,  while  black  velvet 
was  to  be  had  for  only  eight- and -eightpence.  But 
in  those  days  not  only  were  materials  so  good  that  a 
handsome  dress  would  last  a  lifetime,  but  fashions 
changed  so  slowly  that  a  valuable  dress  might  be 
bequeathed  to  a  daughter  or  grand-daughter,  and  not 
look  singular.  The  will  of  Margaret,  Lady  Verney, 
makes  mention  not  only  of  jewels  but  of  body-linen, 
which  was  made  of  thread  of  her  own  spinning,  and 
was  a  precious  possession  good  enough  to  last  more 
than  one  life.  The  document,  which  only  refers  to 
personal  effects,  as  her  money  was  in  settlement,  is  ad- 
dressed to  her  eldest  son,  who  was  her  executor  : — *  Give 
'  to  your  wiffe  my  diamond  elapses,  sheepe  head  and 
4  the  rest  of  my  odd  diamonds  and  my  sable  muffe 

*  and  six  of  my  new  greate  smockes.   ...   I   dessier 

*  your  father  that  he  will   not  let  anie  of  my  House- 
1  hold  linnen  bee  soulde,  but  that  itt  may  goe  toe  you 

*  and  your  elldiste  sonn  and  I  hope  to  his  sonn  toe, 
'  only  sum  of  my  brodeste  of  my  own  makinge  give 
1  toe  your  sisters.  .  .  .  There  are  4  verry  fine  smokes 
1  in  your  father's  little  linnen  tronke  and  one  of  my  four 

*  breadthe  Hollande  sheetes  for  your  own  gerle  Pegge. ' l 

1   Verney  Letters. 


264    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

To  return  to  Mrs.  Porter :  one  of  her  dressmaker's 
bills  amounted  to  twenty-two  pounds,  twelve  and  eleven- 
pence, towards  which  she  only  seems  to  have  paid  one 
pound.  Whether  Endymion  subsequently  settled  it,  or 
whether  the  outbreak  of  the  war  left  it  for  ever  unpaid, 
history  does  not  relate.  On  the  subject  of  everyday  dress 
Mrs.  Townshend  observes:  *  Ladies  seem  usually  to  have 
'  worn  some  sort  of  short  jacket  with  a  stomacher  or 
4  waistcoat,  which  generally  matched  the  gown  in  colour. 
'  Mrs.  Porter  and  Marie,  her  eldest  girl,  both  had  cloth 

*  of  silver  waistcoats,  and  Mrs.   Porter  had  a  "  tabby 

*  rose  coulered  pettycoat  and  waistcoate,"  and  also  one 

*  of  black  and  of  "sky  colored  satin."    The  petticoats 

*  were  sometimes  trimmed  with  "gold  and  silver  parch- 
1  ment" — evidently  parchment  lace — and  sometimes  with 

*  bone  lace.     A  petticoat  and  stomacher  of  incarnadine 

*  satin  were  "  lased  with  two  broad  silver  lases  about." 

*  There  were  also  a  petticoat  and  "  hougerlin  "  of  black 
'  "  pudesaw,"  and  a  waistcoat  of  "  aurora  colered  satin." 
'  The  bodices  seem  to  have  been  stiffened  in  the  fashion 
1  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  days,  for  there  is  an  entry  of  half- 
'  a-crown  for  "fustian  to  lay  between  the  stiffening  and 

*  the  outside."     Sometimes  the  bodices  were  cut  low 
'  and  laced  across  the  stomacher,  and  were  then  called 
4  stays.     "  A  black  mooehaire  sut "  had  stays  to  match, 
'and  a  "zebelah  coulered  satin  sut"  was  made  with 
1  satin  stays.     Zebelah  is  obviously  Isabella  colour,  a 
'  shade  of  tan.     A  pair  of  red  baize  sleeves  were  covered 
'  with  sarsenet,  and  there  were  an  unlimited  number  of 
4  pockets  at  one  and  sixpence  each.'     The  custom  of 
letting   pockets   into  the  seam  of  the   dress  was   not 
introduced  till   many  years  later.      In  the  eighteenth 
century  they  were  made  in  the  petticoat  and  a  placket 
left  open  to  get  at  them,  but  in  Mrs.  Porter's  day  they 
were  entirely  detached,  and  either  carried  in  the  hand 
or  fastened  to  the  waist  by  a  ribbon. 

References  to  dress  and  its  cost  are  sprinkled  plenti- 


DRESS  AND  FASHION  265 

fully  through  the  Earl  of  Cork's  voluminous  diaries.  In 
one  place  he  notes,  *  I  paid  for  cutting  my  wife's  purple 
vellet  gown  vli.'  He  took  great  pride  in  seeing  his 
daughters  finely  arrayed,  especially  his  favourite  Mary, 
and  before  she  came  to  England  to  make  her  debut,  he 
despatched  his  daughter-in-law's  tailor  to  Cork,  laden 
with  taffeta,  plush,  silver  bone  lace  spangled,  and  divers 
other  rich  materials  to  fit  her  out  suitably.  Moreover, 
to  her  was  given  *  the  feather  of  diamonds  and  rubies 
that  was  my  wife's.'  While  she  was  still  a  little  girl  in 
Lady  Clayton's  care,  there  was  an  entry  of  white  dimity 
to  make  gowns  for  her  and  her  little  sister.  In  1638 
she  begins  to  have  her  own  dress  allowance.  4  Wm. 

*  Chettle   delivered   to   my  son    Dongarvan   xxv/z.  for 
4  my  daughter  Marie,  her  quarter  of  a  year's  allowance 
1  beginning  on  All  hollerdaye  laste  when   I  begin  to 

*  allow  her  one  hundred  pownd  a  year  to  fynde  herself. ' 

The  monthly  or  weekly  issue  of  fashion-books  was 
undreamed  of  and  unneeded  in  a  day  when  fashion 
hardly  changed  in  the  passing  of  a  quarter  of  a  century, 
but  the  fashion-plate  was  not  unknown.  A  delightful 
collection  was  issued  in  1640  by  Hollar,  with  a  Latin 
title :  '  Ornatus  Muliebris  Anglicanus.  The  severall 
'  Habits  of  Englishwomen,  from  the  Nobilitie  to  the 
'  Country  Woman,  as  they  are  in  these  times.  1640.' 
On  the  title-page  there  is  an  advertisement  of  '  A  Sett 
'  of  Dresses  &  Habits  of  Foreign  Ladies  &  Women 

*  done  by  the  same  Hand  &  about  the  same  Time  but 

*  smaller,  consisting  of  48  Prints  very  neat.     Price  4d.' 

From  these  plates  we  learn  how  very  little  Vandyck 
idealised  the  costume  of  his  sitters.  The  hair  is  dressed 
in  the  mode  of  Henrietta  Maria,  but  sometimes  combed 
plainly  back  from  the  forehead  without  the  becoming  little 
rings  on  the  brow.  The  skirts  are  put  into  the  waist 
in  full  pleats,  and  are  usually  trimmed  up  the  front ; 
they  are  long  enough  to  rest  a  little  on  the  ground,  but 
without  train.  The  large  lace  collar  or  muslin  fichu 


266    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

is  an  invariable  finish,  and  a  brooch,  ear-rings,  and  a 
pearl  necklace  are  almost  always  worn  by  a  woman  of 
quality.     The  large  full  sleeves  always  end  in  a  deep 
frill   of  lace,    but  the   straight  sleeve   was  sometimes 
finished  with  linen  cuffs  edged  with  lace  coming  high 
up  the  arm.     Sometimes   a  jacket-body  with  basques 
was  worn,  but  more  often  the  stays  laced  over  the  front, 
as  described  in  Mrs.  Porter's  wardrobe.     In  the  latter 
case  a  jewelled  girdle  might  be  worn,  but  young  girls 
oftener  wore  a  ribbon  round  the  waist,  finished  with  a 
small  bow  to  match  a  similar  one  in  the  hair.     One 
lady  is  represented  with  a  feather  at  the  side  of  her 
head,  and  one  with  flowers  placed  against  the  coil  of 
back  hair,  just  as  may  be  seen  in  early  Victorian  fashion- 
plates.     Gloves  were  always  very  long  and  loose,  much 
more  elegant  than  the  tight-fitting,  tight-buttoned  ones 
of  to-day.    Those  of  the  ladies  do  not  seem  to  have  been 
embroidered,  but  men's  gloves  were  beautifully  orna- 
mented.    Fans  were  generally  of  feathers,  with  a  long 
handle,    but  one   folding  fan   is    depicted — they  were 
probably  a  novelty.      For  out  of  doors  an  enormous 
muff  seems  to  have  been  de  rigueur,  even  when  the 
weather  was    so  warm    that    a    lace    tippet  over  the 
shoulders  was    sufficient.      A    shawl    was    sometimes 
worn,  or  a  fur  pelerine,  and  a  hood  and  mask  covering 
only  the  upper  part  of  the  face.     For  summer,  a  veil 
thrown  over  the  head   and   face,  and  a  pair  of  long 
gloves,  seem  to  have  been  considered  sufficient.     The 
skirts  being  so  long  and  "full  had,  of  course,  to  be  held 
up  for  walking,  and  there  is  a  quaint  back  view  of  a 
lady  holding  up   hers  with  both   hands  to  show  an 
embroidered  petticoat.     She  wears  a  wide-brimmed  hat 
with  a  little  cord  and  tassels. 

A  Puritan  lady  is  represented  with  a  deep-pleated 
ruff,  a  bodice  laced  over  a  white  chemisette,  and  a  skirt 
very  full  but  shorter,  showing  her  toes.  She  wears  the 
same  large  hat  and  carries  a  muff.  A  somewhat  similar 


A  LADY  OF  FASHION 

From  Hollar 's  '  Ornatus  Afulitbns  Anglicanus. 


DRESS  AND  FASHION  267 

picture,  with  the  addition  of  a  long  white  apron,  would 
seem  to  represent  an  upper  servant.  Another  servant 
of  a  less  dignity  has  a  long-eared  cap  under  her  hat, 
and  a  linen  tippet  tied  with  a  bow  ;  she  carries  a  small 
muff.  Another  has  a  pair  of  scissors  hanging  to  her 
girdle,  and  two  wear  caps  and  have  their  gowns  opening 
in  front  over  a  white  petticoat.  A  country  woman  or 
servant  going  a-marketing  is  represented  in  a  coif  with 
a  kerchief  over  her  bosom,  and  wears  clogs.  On  her 
arm  is  a  basket  with  artichokes  and  carrots. 

A  later  volume,  with  the  title  Theatrum  Mulierum,  was 
published  .in  1643.  Fashions  had  not  changed  much  in 
the  three  years.  The  noble  lady,  or  Mulier  Generosa,  is 
just  as  before,  but  a  merchant's  wife  now  appears  in 
a  big  untrimmed  hat,  an  embroidered  petticoat  well 
displayed,  and  high-heeled  shoes  with  roses.  Her 
daughter  wears  her  hair  in  a  circle  of  plaits  at  the  back 
of  her  head,  with  bunches  of  ringlets  over  the  ears,  the 
top  combed  back.  She  has  a  plain  fichu,  a  long  apron, 
a  reticule  at  her  side,  and  is  putting  on  long  gloves. 
These  ladies  probably  belonged  to  the  middling  ranks, 
who  kept  their  shops  in  London.  Had  Mr.  Marmaduke 
Rawdon  ever  taken  to  himself  a  wife,  we  may  be  sure 
his  womankind  would  have  gone  more  splendidly 
arrayed.  In  Fairholt's  History  of  Costume  we  read 
that  'The  Merchant  usually  wore  a  long  open  gown 
with  hanging  sleeves,  scull-cap  and  less  frippery.' 
The  citizen's  wife  wears  a  cloth  skirt  kilted  high,  high 
heels  and  a  big  hat,  the  daughter  a  plain  linen  fichu 
with  scalloped  edge,  plain  cuffs,  an  apron  and  a  coif 
worked  round  the  border.  A  country  woman  is  given 
in  a  skirt  edged  with  rows  of  braid,  a  dark  jacket  with 
basques,  wide  hat  over  a  coif,  long  apron,  and  a  covered 
basket  on  her  arm.  The  plates  of  foreign  costume  show 
how  much  even  people  in  society  in  those  days  kept  to 
their  local  fashions.  Evelyn  in  his  diary  notices  the 
same  thing,  describing  the  dress  worn  by  Italians  and 


268    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

Spaniards  as  quite  distinct  from  that  worn  by  his  own 
countrymen.  French  fashions  were  at  that  time  more 
followed  in  England,  having  been  brought  in  by  the 
French  queen. 

She,  however,  had  not  introduced  any  extravagances, 
but  rather  set  the  fashion  of  simplicity  in  dress,  as  did 
the  king  in  simplicity  of  living.  In  all  her  many  por- 
traits, from  the  charming  bride-like  pearl-white  satin 
with  rose-coloured  bows  to  the  black  dress  and  heavy 
black  lace  veil  of  her  widowhood,  she  is  never  depicted 
in  anything  more  sumptuous  than  what  was  worn,  not 
only  by  the  ladies  of  her  court,  but  by  the  country 
dames.  It  was  not  till  after  the  Restoration  that  extra- 
vagance in  dress  was  identified  with  the  royalist  party 
and  plainness  with  the  Puritans.  The  idea  of  seventy 
and  plainness  in  apparel  was  gradually  gaining  ground 
amongst  the  middle  class,  but  until  the  Commonwealth 
the  leaders  and  their  wives  were  as  well  dressed  on  the 
one  side  as  on  the  other.  Mrs.  Hutchinson  frequently 
refers  to  her  husband's  excellent  taste  in  dress.  In  a 
passage  already  quoted  she  mentions  his  attention  to 
the  becoming,  and  his  not  grudging  reasonable  ex- 
pense. And  later,  on  the  occasion  of  the  funeral  of 
Ireton,  she  describes  his  appearing  in  a  '  scarlet  cloak, 
very  richly  laced,  such  as  he  usually  wore.'  Cromwell, 
indeed,  set  the  fashion  of  an  extremely  plain,  not  to  say 
negligent  apparel,  but  such  men  as  Algernon  Sidney, 
Ralph  Verney,  Warwick,  Essex,  and  a  host  of  others, 
are  represented  in  the  customary  velvet  and  point-lace 
of  the  day,  with  curled  lovelocks.  In  truth,  the  term 
1  Roundhead,'  which  is  often  supposed  to  denote  the 
fashion  affected  by  a  party,  rather  took  its  rise  from  the 
fact  that  the  Puritan  forces  were  chiefly  recruited  from 
the  middle  and  lower  ranks,  especially  the  London 
apprentices,  who  always  wore  their  hair  cropped  in 
obedience  to  a  sumptuary  custom.  Colonel  Hutchin- 
son's  silky  curls  or  Ralph  Verney's  are  quite  as  long  as 


SUMMER  WALKING  DRESS 

From  Hollar  s  '  Ornatus  Mitliebris  Anglicanus, 


DRESS  AND  FASHION  269 

those  of  Suckling  or  Killigrew,  and  much  longer  than 
Lord  Falkland's  shaggy  black  wisps. 

Extravagances,  of  course,  there  were,  as  the  satirists 
have  left  on  record.1  Under  James  i.  we  learn  that 
tight-laced  whalebone  stays  were  worn  by  men,  and 
breeches  were  padded  out ;  so  too  were  stockings,  and 
a  comical  story  is  related  of  a  young  gentleman  who, 
in  company,  caught  the  calf  of  his  leg  upon  a  nail, 
whereupon  instead  of  blood  the  bran  came  running 
out  as  if  he  had  been  a  doll.  Dekker  in  his  GuVs 
Horn-book  says  sarcastically,  referring  to  former  times  : 

*  There  was  then   neither  the  Spanish   slop,   nor  the 
4  skipper's  galligaskins  ;  the  Danish  sleeving,  sagging 
1  down  like  a  Welsh  wallet,  the  Italian's  close  strosser, 

*  nor  the   French   standing  collar ;    your   treble-quad- 
1  ruple-dedalian    ruffs,    nor  your  stiff-necked   rabatos.' 
Henry    Fitzgeffery    in    his    Notes  from   Blackfryars, 
describing   the    visitors    to    that    resort    in    1617,    has 
something  to  say  on   the  same   mixture  of  fashions 
from    all    parts  of  the  world,    and  thus    describes    a 
spruce  coxcomb — 

That  never  walkes  without  his  looking-glasse 

In  a  tobacco  box  or  diall  set, 

That  he  may  privately  confer  with  it, 

How  his  band  jumpeth  with  his  pecadilly, 

Whether  his  band  stringes  ballance  equally, 

Which  way  his  feather  wags. 

.  .  .  He'll  have  an  attractive  lase 

And  whalebone  bodies  for  the  better  grace. 

The  garter  at  that  day  was  a  sash  tied  in  a  large  bow 
at  the  side  of  the  leg,  and  the  shoes  were  adorned 
with  roses.  Ear-rings  also  were  worn  by  the  men. 
Peacham  in  his  Worth  of  a  Peny  upbraids  his  country- 
men for  following  the  French  fashions,  and  declares  the 
English  are  called  'the  apes  of  Europe,'  while  the 
Dutch  or  Spaniards  have  kept  to  their  own  fashions 

1  History  of  Costume  in  England^  by  Fairholt. 


270    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

for  two  or  three  hundred  years.     '  I  see  no  reason  why 

*  a  Frenchman  should  not  imitate  our  fashions  as  well 

*  as  we  his.' 

Mourning  in  those  days  was  a  very  serious  business, 
and  lasted  for  an  immense  time.  Lady  Fanshawe  in 
her  will  requested  that  her  son  Sir  Richard  and  her 
three  daughters  should  wear  it  for  three  years  after  her 
decease,  excepting  either  of  them  married  in  the  mean- 
time. Sir  Kenelm  Digby,  who  had  been  very  fond 
of  fine  clothes,  never  wore  anything  after  the  death 
of  his  wife  but  a  suit  of  black  cloth  with  a  plain  linen 
collar,  a  long  cloak  of  black,  and  a  slouch  hat. 

It  was  the  custom  to  send  mourning  to  all  relations 
and  intimate  friends,  which  must  have  been  a  serious 
expense.  On  the  death  qf  Dame  Margaret  Verney, 
Lady  Sussex  very  considerately  declined  it,  since  she 
was  living  in  retirement  at  Gorhambury  and  seeing 
no  one.1  She  herself  spent  ^400  on  her  husband's 
funeral  in  order  to  express  her  Move  and  valy  of  him.' 
Widows  wore  a  long  veil  of  black  entirely  over  the 
head,  like  those  of  nuns,  and  unless  they  married  again, 
as  they  frequently  did,  continued  to  wear  it  till  the  end 
of  their  lives.  Not  dress  only,  but  the  entire  surround- 
ings of  the  bereaved,  were  black.  The  Verneys  were 
the  proud  possessors  of  a  black  bed  which  figured  in 
all  their  family  bereavements,  and  was  lent  to  their 
friends  in  affliction.  On  hearing  of  the  demise  of  Lord 
Sussex,  Ralph  at  once  despatched  it  to  the  widow, 
and  it  is  rather  amusing  to  read  soon  after,  when  she 
writes  to  announce  her  approaching  marriage  to  her 
third  husband,  the  Earl  of  Warwick :  <  The  blacke 

*  bed  and  haninges  your  ante  never  sent  for ;   if  you 
'  would  have  me  deliver  them  anywher  i  will  or  kepe 
'  them    with    my   one   which    you    desier   i    will    do.' 
Doubtless   the   black  bed  was   rather  in   the  way   of 
wedding  festivities.     The  custom  of  draping  room  and 

i   Verney  Memoirs. 


PURITAN  LADY'S  WALKING  DRESS 


From  Hollar's  '  Ornatus  Muliebris  Anglicanns.' 


DRESS  AND  FASHION  271 

bed  with  black  was  so  trying  to  one  young  widow 
that  it  made  her  quite  ill,  and  her  sister  apologises  for 
having  laid  a  white  coverlet  over  her. 

Black  carriages  were  also  required,  not  for  the  funeral 
only  but  for  use  for  a  year  or  so  after  a  death,  and  even 
saddles  had  to  be  covered  with  black.  Sir  Ralph  Verney 
himself,  when  he  was  left  a  widower,  was  obliged  to  dis- 
pense with  the  black  bed,  for  he  was  travelling  on  the 
continent.  He  did  what  he  could,  however,  and  his 
methodical  lists  for  his  outfit  include  *  Two  black 
4  taffety  night-cloathes,  with  the  black  night-capps,  and 
'  black  comb  and  brush  and  two  black  sweet-bags  to 
'  it,  and  the  slippers  of  black  velvet.'  He  also  took 
*  a  black  leather  needle-case  with  a  greate  gold  bodkin, 
4  Papers  of  Finns,  Blew  thread,  Shirt-buttons,  Cap- 
'  strings  and  tape.'  There  was  also  *  Muske  for  powder, 
ciprus  powder  and  a  Puffe.'  These  little  things  seem 
to  have  been  better  obtained  in  England  than  in  France, 
for  in  Mary's  lifetime,  when  she  went  home,  Ralph 
charged  her  to  get  in  London  *  pinns,  oris  powder  and 
such  matters ;  for  they  are  nought  here.'  Tooth- 
brushes were  a  new  and  costly  luxury.  In  1649  Ralph 
is  asked  to  inquire  in  Paris  for  l  the  little  brushes  for 
1  making  cleane  of  the  teeth,  most  covered  with  sylver 
'  and  some  with  gold  and  sylver  twyste  together  with 
1  some  Petits  Bouettes  to  put  them  in.' 

Lady  Sussex,  whose  commissions  have  already 
cropped  up  once  or  twice,  had  no  scruple  in  sending  her 
good  friend  Ralph  Verney  about  the  town,  running  her 
errands  and  matching  her  patterns.  Pinned  to  a  scrap 
of  paper  on  which  he  had  jotted  down  her  endless 
instructions  is  a  bit  of  sky-blue  satin,  'as  bright  as 
ever,'  says  the  author  of  the  Verney  Memoirs •,  which 
was  to  be  matched  for  a  little  coat  for  her  godson. 
She  was  very  fond  of  making  presents,  and  during 
the  sitting  of  the  Short  Parliament  she  writes  to  her 
friend :  '  You  have  now  the  searious  afares  of  parli- 


272     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

'  ment  in  consydearation,  won  should  not  bee  so 
4  unsivell  to  treble  you  with  littell  matters,  but  i  will 
i  adventer  it.  My  dessier  is  to  by  mee  as  much 
'  sattin  of  which  of  the  couler  you  lyke  best,  as  will 
1  make  a  cote  for  a  child,  about  fore  year  olde,  but 
'  do  not  send  it  doun  yet.'  Again  in  1642  she  bids 
him  'by  my  prity  godson  a  very  hansom  sattin  cote 
'  and  get  it  made,  .  .  .  and  then  send  me  the  bill  of 

*  all ;  i  must  give  it  him  holy.'     In  another  letter,    *i 

*  must  treble  you  to  get  me  a  hansome  mofe  bought, 

*  ...  a  fasyonable  mofe  for  one  as  tale  as  your  wife.' 

Another  time  she  writes :  '  My  thenkes  to  you  for 
'  my  sattine  :  it  cam  very  will :  some  of  it  i  employ 

*  for  the  backes  of  chers,  the  rest  i  intende  for  cortines  ; 
t  when  the  chinse  stofes  com  in,  if  you  see  any  prity  ons 

*  remember  me  i  pray  you  for  to  or  three  peses.  .  .  . 

<  i   am   very  sory  i   did   not  consider  of  the  figgerde 
4  sattine  when  i  was  at  chelsey  for  truly  though  the 

<  prise  be  unresonable  i  hade  rather  give  it  then  by  any 
'  of  the    figerde    sattines  that  are   to  be  hade   hear ; 

*  thorty   shillings   the  yarde   the   axe,   and    the  color 

*  lookes  lyke  dort  to  that  i  have.' 

While  in  Paris,  Mary  Verney  received  commissions 
from  her  friend  Anne  Lee,  for  even  in  the  midst  of 
war  and  tumult  social  functions  went  on,  and  Lady 
Warwick  gave  parties.  Anne  writes :  '  Madam,  I 
'  heare  you  are  at  pares ;  you  will  be  trim  in  all  the 

*  new  fashones,   I  will  make  no   new  cloues  till  you 
'  direct    mee,    and    if  you   could  without  any   incon- 
'  venience  by  mee  any  prity  coulred   stoffe  to   make 
4  mee  a  peticote,  4  bredes  of  satin  is  enofe ;  I  never 
4  put  in   more  then   5   yard.  .   .   .    But   I   heare  they 

<  ware  now  in  France  coulred  slefes  and  stomicheres 
'  therefore   ther   must  be  somthing  alowed   for  that  ; 

<  but  not  by  no  means  if  it  cannot  be  without  any  in- 

*  convenience  to  you,   pray  let  me   know  and   I   will 

*  buy  mee  one  heere :  I  would  not  have  one  to  cost  to 


DRESS  AND  FASHION  273 

'  much  ;  4  or  5  pound  and  pray  let  mee  know  how  to 
(  send  the  money  ;  and  deare  Madam  bestoe  mee  30 
'  shillings  in  anie  prety  thing  for  my  head  to  sote  mee 
'  out  a  litell.'  Mrs.  Isham  also  writes  to  know  about 
the  fashions,  and  begs  '  Cosan  Verney '  to  send  her 
word  <  if  wee  bottone  petticotes  and  wastcoats  wheare 
they  must  be  botend.' 

Presents  from  Paris  to  the  stay-at-homes  were  as 
much  thought  of  then  as  now,  and  Mary  Verney  writes 
from  London  :  l  Not  anything  will  be  so  wellcom  as 
1  gorgetts,  and  eyther  cutt  or  painted  callicoes  to  wear 

*  under  them  or  what  is  most  in  fashion  ;  and  black  or 
'  collered  cales  for  the  head  ;  or  little  collered  peny  or 
'  toe  peny  ribonings,  and  som  black  patches,  or  som 
'  prety  bobs  but  ye  pearle  ones  are  grown   very  old 

*  fashion  now.'     Wooden  combs  are  also  mentioned, 
but  they  could  be  had  as  cheap  in  London. 

The  mention  of  patches  shows  that  these  were  already 
coming  into  fashion  in  Paris,  which  then  still  more 
than  now  led  the  van.  Periwigs  were  certainly  coming 
in,  for  Ralph  Verney  was  very  particular  about  the 
make-up  of  his.  He  enclosed  a  pattern  lock  of  his 
hair  with  his  order  for  one,  and  said :  '  Let  it  be  well 
<  curled  in  great  rings  and  not  frizzled,  and  see  that 

*  he  makes  it  handsomely  and  fashionably,  and  with 
'  two  locks  and  let  them  be  tied  with  black  ribbon,  .  .  . 
'  and  let  not  the  wig  part  behind,  charge  him  to  curl 
1  it  on  both  sides  towards  the  face.'     The  cost  of  this 
magnificent  chevelure  was  twelve  livres. 

The  use  of  rouge  had  become  common  among  the 
lower  orders,  for  in  the  Worth  of  a  Peny  it  says  :  '  For 
'  a  peny  a  chambermaid  may  buy  as  much  red  ochre 

*  as   will   serve   seven   years  for  the   painting  of  her 

*  cheeks.'     In  the  previous  century,  a  German  visitor 
to   England    remarked :    *  Women   are  charming  and 
'  mighty  pretty  for  they  do  not  falsify,  paint  or  bedaub 
4  themselves  as  they  do  in  Italy.'    The  custom,  how- 

S 


274    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE    STUARTS 

ever,  did  not  become  general  amongst  women  of  the 
better  class  and  of  good  taste  before  the  time  of  the 
Commonwealth,  though  by  the  Restoration  it  was 
rampant.  Vandyck's  sitters  owed  their  bloom  to  no 
paint-brush  but  his,  and  we  read  of  no  rouge  or  hare's- 
foot  amongst  the  Verney  commissions. 

Watches  were  by  this  time  becoming  quite  common. 
Lady  Brilliana  Harley  lends  hers  to  her  son  at  Oxford 
till  his  father  should  give  him  a  watch  of  his  own.  The 
king  had  several,  one  very  richly  enamelled  and 
encrusted  with  jewels,  which  we  hear  of  Mr.  Endymion 
Porter  sending  to  get  repaired  for  him.  During  his 
captivity  he  had  two  in  constant  use,  one  gold,  the  other 
silver,  which  were  always  placed  at  night  on  a  stool 
beside  his  bed.  One  of  these  was  a  repeater,  and,  from 
Mr.  Herbert  calling  it  sometimes  a  watch  and  sometimes 
a  clock,  was  probably  a  large  one  like  a  little  clock, 
rather  to  be  placed  on  a  stand  than  to  wear,  of  which 
a  specimen  is  shown  in  the  case  of  watches  at  the 
South  Kensington  Museum.  This  he  gave  to  Mr. 
Herbert  before  his  execution.  Some  were  quite  little, 
especially  French  ones,  and  the  cases  were  often  of 
crystal  or  of  silver.  The  English  were  usually  some- 
what larger,  but  a  very  tiny  one  in  silver  bears  the 
inscription,  *  Henry  Grendon  at  ye  Exchange  fecit/ 
Another  small  silver  watch  is  of  an  oval  shape,  and  in- 
scribed '  Barnes  atDorcest.,'  and  dated  1600.  The  oval 
form  was  beginning  to  go  out  of  fashion,  but  when  first 
introduced  watches  were  of  this  shape,  and  called 
Nuremberg  eggs.  A  very  large  English  one  was 
made  by  Thomas  Taylor  in  Holborn,  of  gold,  richly 
chased.  That  of  which  an  illustration  is  given  was 
of  gold,  and  of  solid  dimensions  suited  to  the  solid 
character  of  its  owner.  It  bears  the  inscription,  '  John 
Pym,  his  watch,  1628.' 

Fashionable  people  were  just  as  much  given  to  crazes 
for  some  particular  fancy  as  they  are  now,  and  a  rage 


;*i^ 


F\  "-V*;        ^ 

fe».LNJ  ; 


4;,^1 

m_     >*  V     *      ^'y      ".,  J^-^B 

/"'  V 

% 


DRESS  AND  FASHION  275 

for  seals  set  in  at  one  time,  which  Dorothy  Osborne 
mentions  in  several  letters.  She  appears  to  have 
caught  the  infection  from  her  friend  Lady  Diana  Rich, 
for  she  writes  to  Sir  William  Temple  that  the  sight  of 
Lady  Diana's  collection  had  quite  set  her  a-longing  for 
some  too.  *  Such  as  are  oldest  and  oddest  are  most 
prized,'  she  says,  and  later:  *I  have  sent  into  Italy 
4  for  seals :  'tis  to  be  hoped  by  the  time  mine  come 
t  over  they  may  be  of  fashion  again,  for  'tis  a  humour 
'  that  your  old  acquaintance  Mr.  Smith  and  his  lady 
'  [Sacharissa]  have  brought  up ;  they  say  she  wears 
'  twenty  strung  upon  a  ribbon  like  the  nuts  boys  play 
*  withal.  The  oddness  of  the  figures  makes  the  beauty 
'  of  these  things.' 

I  linger  perhaps  too  long  over  these  trifles,  but  after 
all  it  is  such  that  help  more  than  anything  else  to  set 
the  men  and  women  of  the  time  before  us,  not  only 
in  their  dignity  and  grace,  but  also  in  their  little 
follies  and  foibles. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

HOUSE   AND   HOME 

So  dire  was  the  destruction    that    swept   across    the 
country  in  the  wake  of  the  Rebellion  that  it  is  difficult 
to  find  traces  of  the  homes  our  forefathers  lived   in. 
Great  houses  capable  of  being  used  as  strongholds, 
having  stood  sieges,  were  *  slighted,'  that  is  mutilated 
and  defaced,  by  order  of  the  parliament ;   many  that 
escaped  this  fate  fell  into  decay  because  their  owners 
were  too  much  impoverished  after  the  war  to  keep  them 
up  ;  others  again  have  been  destroyed  by  fire,  or  pulled 
down  in  order  to  be  replaced  by  modern  structures  in 
accordance  with  fashionable  taste,  or  so  altered  and 
added  to,  to  suit  changing  requirements,  as  to  be  hardly 
recognisable.     Some  indeed,  buried  in  the  country,  or 
in  a  quiet  country  town  that  has  fallen  out  of  the  ranks 
in  the  race  of  progress,  remain  to  give  us  an  idea  of 
the  homes  of  Stuart  days.     I  call  to  mind  an  old  grey 
homely-looking  house  on  the  north  coast  of  Cornwall, 
not  on  the  cliff,  but  sheltering  from  the  rough  winds 
at  the  head  of  a  combe :  our  forebears  never  cared  to 
look  on  the  '  horrid '   waves ;   they  preferred  a  nook 
where  they  could  gather  some  greenness  about  them. 
The  windows,    deep-set  and   mullioned,    draped    with 
tambour  work  of  the  time  of  Elizabeth,   look  into  a 
walled  green  court  with  a  sundial  in  it,  fringed  round 
with   tree  fuchsias  and  escallonias ;   the  gabled   roofs 
are  steep  and  full  of  crooks  and  angles,  covered  with 
the  rough  slate  of  the  country,   which  takes  tender 
broken    tones    of  grey   lighted  with    golden    lichens. 

276 


HOUSE  AND  HOME  277 

Inside,  the  rooms  are  broad  and  spacious ;  at  the  end 
of  the  hall  is  a  small  gallery  for  musicians,  just  over 
the  hatch  into  the  buttery,  and  there  is  a  huge  chimney 
of  the  olden  time,  though  now,  alas,  the  dogs  are 
replaced  by  a  modern  grate.  Upstairs,  the  low  wide 
chambers  open  into  each  other  with  broad  heavy  doors, 
and  under  the  roof  is  a  wilderness  of  garrets,  apple-lofts, 
root-chambers.  Behind  is  a  farmyard,  with  rambling 
out-buildings  in  a  more  or  less  dilapidated  condition, 
and  the  foundations  may  be  traced  of  many  more  which, 
long  unused,  have  been  suffered  to  fall  into  decay. 
This  was  no  castle  or  great  man's  stronghold,  simply 
the  ordinary  home  of  a  country  gentleman  which, 
thanks  to  its  isolated  position,  has  stood  almost  un- 
altered since  the  thirteenth  century. 

In  most  very  old  country  houses  may  still  be  found 
carpenter's  bench,  blacksmith's  forge,  and  the  old  pots 
and  paraphernalia  of  a  house-painter,  for  all  ordinary 
repairs  were  done  at  home.  Besides  the  customary 
surroundings  of  stable,  dairy,  fowl-house,  dove-cot, 
pig-stye,  there  was  often  a  slaughter-house,  brewery, 
malt-house,  and  sometimes  even  a  mill.  There  were 
of  course  stew-ponds  for  fish,  and,  where  there  was  a 
large  park,  a  decoy  for  wild-fowl.  For  a  house  in  the 
country  was  always  capable  of  provisioning  itself  with 
very  little  aid  from  outside ;  even  the  country  parson 
had  to  rely  upon  his  own  resources :  as  Herbert  says, 
'  the  fare  is  plain  and  common  but  wholesome  ;  what 
'  he  hath  is  little  but  very  good  ;  it  consisteth  most 
'  of  mutton,  beef  and  veal.  If  he  add  anything  for  a 
'  stranger  or  a  great  day,  his  garden  or  orchard  supplies 
'  it,  or  his  barn  and  yard.' 

Those  houses  which  still  remain  in  old-fashioned 
country  towns  were  more  like  country  houses  than 
town  ones,  for  though  they  might  front  upon  the  street, 
there  was  always  a  large  garden  with  out-houses  behind. 
A  laundry  too  was  an  invariable  feature  of  a  well-found 


278    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

house.  Washing  was  always  done  at  home,  and 
people  had  such  large  supplies  of  linen  that  they  used 
to  let  it  accumulate  and  have  an  enormous  wash,  for 
which  huge  coppers  were  needed.  A  curious  old  wash- 
ing tally  has  been  preserved  at  Haddon  Hall,  and  is 
described  in  Tuer's  History  of  the  Horn  Book.  It  is 
glazed  with  horn  and  brass-bound,  but  without  a  handle, 
and  the  system  on  which  it  is  arranged  is  most  in- 
genious. The  names  of  the  various  articles,  as  sheets, 
pillow-beres,  kerchiefs,  smocks,  etc.,  are  written  against 
circles  in  which,  by  turning  a  button,  the  numbers 
could  be  made  to  appear.  It  must  have  saved  a  good 
deal  of  trouble,  and  was  useful  where  the  laundrymaid 
was  no  scholar.  No  doubt  she  and  the  housekeeper 
went  through  it  together  at  the  conclusion  of  a  big  wash. 

Judging  by  those  Tudor  and  Jacobean  homes  which 
war,  time,  and  the  restorer  have  spared,  the  character- 
istics would  seem  to  have  been  a  certain  largeness, 
breadth,  repose,  together  with  a  high  standard  of 
comfort.  If  beauty  was  perhaps  not  consciously  aimed 
at  by  way  of  ornament,  it  was  none  the  less  secured  by 
the  observance  of  an  essential  fitness  of  means  to  ends, 
with  the  result  that  the  building  itself  came  to  be  the 
worthy  expression  of  dignified  living.  Very  beautiful 
these  old  houses  must  have  been  with  their  fair  sur- 
roundings of  garden  and  orchard  close,  and  very  beauti- 
ful as  well  as  comfortable  must  have  been  the  furniture 
and  fittings,  the  wainscotting,  the  hangings,  the  carved 
oak,  the  cushions  and  carpets,  the  silver  and  old  china 
and  cut  glass,  to  judge  by  what  has  survived. 

Mr.  Howell,  in  his  Familiar  Letters,  gives  a  delightful 
description  of  a  great  house  in  his  day  : — 

'  To  Daniel  Caldwell,  JSsq.,  from  the  Lord  Savage's 
House  in  Long  Melford. 

*  MY  DEAR  DAN, — Though  considering  my  former 
'  condition  of  life,  I  may  now  be  called  a  countryman, 


^K^^^y^Si^i^^^^k  *•    1M 


'4]^^^"**^^ 


WASHING-TALLY  IN  HORN  FROM  HADDON  HALL 

By  permission  of  His  Grace  the  Duke  of  Rutland. 


HOUSE  AND  HOME  279 

*  yet  you  cannot  call  me  a  rustic  (as  you  would  imply 
'  in  your  letter)  as  long  as  I  live  in  so  civil  and  noble 
'  a  family,  as  long  as  I  lodge  in  so  virtuous  and  regular 
'  a  house  as  any  I  believe  in  the  land,  both  for  oecono- 
'  mical  government,  and  the  choice  company  ;    for  I 

*  never  saw  yet  such  a  dainty  race  of  children  in  all  my 
'  life  together ;    I  never  saw  yet  such  an  orderly  and 
'  punctual  attendance  of  servants,  nor  a  great  house  so 

*  neatly  kept :  here  one  shall  see  no  dog,  nor  a  cat,  nor 
1  cage  to  cause  any  nastiness  within  the  body  of  the 

<  house :   the  kitchen  and  gutters  and  other  offices  of 
1  noise  and  drudgery  are  at  the  fag-end  ;  there  is  a 

*  back-gate  for  beggars  and  the  meaner  sort  of  swains 
'  to  come  in  at ;  the  stables  butt  upon  the  park,  which 
t  for  a  chearful  rising  ground,  for  groves  and  browsings 
'  for  deer,  for  rivulets  of  water,  may  compare  with  any 

*  of  its  bigness  in  the  whole  land  ;  it  is  opposite  to  the 

*  front  of  the  great  house,  whence  from  the  gallery  one 

*  may  see  much  of  the  game  when  they  are  hunting. 
'  Now  for  the  gardening  and  costly  choice  flowers,  for 
'  ponds,  for  stately  large  walks  green  and  gravelly,  for 

*  orchards  and  choice  fruits  of  all  sorts,  there  are  few 

*  the  like  in  England :  here  you  have  your  bon  chrestien 
1  pear  and  bergamot  in  perfection,  your  muscadel  grapes 
4  in  such  plenty,  that  there  are  some  bottles  of  wine  sent 
6  every  year  to  the  King;  and  one  Mr.  Daniel,  a  worthy 
'  gentleman  hard  by,  who  hath  been  long  abroad,  makes 
4  good  store  in  his  vintage.     Truly  this  house  of  Long- 
1  Melford,  though  it  be  not  so  great,  yet  it  is  so  well 
'  compacted  and  contrived  with  such  dainty  conveni- 
1  ences  every  way,  that  if  you  saw  the  landskip  of  it, 
'  you  would  be  mightily  taken  with  it,  and  it  would 
'  serve  for  a  choice   pattern   to  build  and  contrive  a 

<  house  by.     If  you  come  this  summer  to  your  manor 
'  of  Sheriff  in  Essex,  you  will  not  be  far  off  hence :  if 
1  your  occasions  will  permit  it  will  be  worth  your  coming 
'  hither,  though  it  be  only  to  see  him,  who  would  think 


28o    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

*  it  a  short  journey  to  go  from  St.    David's  head  to 

*  Dover  cliffs  to  see  and  serve  you,  were  there  occasion : 
'  if  you  would  know  who  the  same  is,  it  is  yours, 

J.  H. 
'May  20^  1621.' 

Of  great  houses  there  is,  of  course,  much  more  extant 
than  of  the  smaller.  The  Earl  of  Cork  gives  many 
interesting  details  of  the  houses  he  lived  in  ;  he  loved 
bricks  and  mortar,  and  busied  himself  greatly  with  the 
alterations  and  improvements  he  set  on  foot  at  Stal- 
bridge  which  he  bought  of  Lord  Bristol.  A  terrace 
and  grand  portico  were  to  be  added  similar  to  those  at 
Sherborne  Castle,  Lord  Bristol's  own  place  near,  and 
some  of  the  stonemasons  who  had  been  employed  there 
were  to  carry  out  the  work.  The  adornments  of  the 
interior  are  also  recorded  in  his  diary  : — <  I  have  agreed 

*  with  Christopher  Watts,  freemason  and  carver,  who 
'  dwells  in  Horse  Street,  Bristol,  to  make  me  a  very  fair 
4  chimney,  also  for  my  parlour,  which  is  to  reach  up 
1  close  to  the  ceiling,  with  my  coat  of  arms  complete, 

*  with  crest,  helmet,  coronet,  supporters,  mantling  and 
4  foot-pace,  which  he  is  to  set  up  and  finish  all  at  his 
'  own   charges,  fair  and  graceful  in  all   respects,  and 
1  for  that  chimney  I  am  to  pay  £10,  and  I  am  to  find 
'  carriage  also.     He  is  also  to  make  twelve  figures  each 

*  three  foot  high,  to  set  upon  my  staircase,  for  which  he 
1  demands  205.  apiece,  and  I  offer  him  135.  4d.     And 
1  he  is  presently  to  cut  one  of  them  with  the  figure  of 
i  Pallas  with  a  shield,     One  with  a  coat  with  a  coronet 
'  is  to  be  cut  for  a  trial.'1 

Fireplaces  were  not  only  things  of  beauty  and  pride 
but  nooks  of  comfort.  The  miserable  old  fashion  of 
the  fire  in  the  middle  of  the  hall,  the  smoke  escaping 
as  best  it  could  through  a  hole  in  the  roof,  had  by  this 
time  quite  given  way  to  the  broad  deep  chimney,  with 

1  Lismorc  Papers.     Grosart. 


EXTERIOR  OF  IGHTHAM   MOTE 

By  permission  ofj.  Colyer  Ferguson,  Esq.  Copyright;  C.  Essenbigh  Corke,  F.R.P.S 


HOUSE  AND  HOME  281 

oaken  settles  inside,  and  dogs  of  wrought  iron  or  brass 
to  support  the  logs  on  the  hearth.  At  the  back  of  many 
of  these  great  chimneys  was  a  hiding-place  called  a 
4  priest's  hole,'  which  had  been  the  refuge  of  many  in 
the  preceding  generation  when  the  Jesuits  were  hunted 
down  like  wolves.  Many  of  these  were  put  to  use  again 
in  the  Civil  War.  Several  are  mentioned  in  Mr.  Allen 
Fea's  Historic  Hiding-Places ',  and  I  myself  know  one 
in  Hampshire,  in  a  lone  cottage  hidden  among  the 
downs  at  Cheriton  near  Alresford,  where,  according 
to  tradition,  Charles  i.  took  refuge  on  his  way  from 
Hampton  Court  to  Titchfield,  when  probably  Waller's 
troops  were  scouring  the  downs. 

To  return  to  peaceful  homes  and  peaceful  ways. 
Glass  windows  had  by  the  reign  of  James  i.  come  into 
general  use  ;  mentioned  as  a  luxury  in  the  Utopia  of  Sir 
Thomas  More,  they  had  gradually  been  adopted  in  every 
home  of  any  pretension.  Moreover,  people  had  learned 
to  keep  themselves  warm  with  carpets,  rugs,  and  cur- 
tains, while  walls  were  now  always  wainscotted  or  hung 
with  tapestry.  Leather  carpets  such  as  those  mentioned 
by  Sir  Ralph  Verney  must,  one  would  think,  have  been 
rather  cold  comfort.  After  Sir  Edmund's  death  in  1645 
Ralph,  writing  to  his  brother  from  Blois,  suggests  that 
an  inventory  be  made  of  all  the  contents  of  Claydon, 
and  from  this  much  may  be  gathered,  though,  as  he 
says,  '  since  the  beginning  of  the  Civil  Wars,  the 
'  best  goods  have  been  removed  from  ye  right  places  to 
'  bee  more  saifly  laied  upp,  and  noates  must  be  taken  of 
*  what  by  my  order  are  stored  upp,  lent,  sould,  or  given 
'  away.'1  He  goes  through  the  contents  of  different 
rooms,  as  he  remembers  them,  very  carefully;  the  things 
in  *  ye  studdy  over  ye  greate  porch,'  which  had  been  Sir 
Edmund's  closet,  are  enumerated,  but  do  not  seem  to  have 
included  many  books.  Most  of  the  rooms  seem  to  have 
had  an  inner  dressing-room  without  separate  access,  an 

1   Verney  Papers.     Camden  Society. 


282     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

arrangement  still  often  met  with  in  old  houses.  There 
is  special  mention  of  '  the  odd  things  in  the  roome  my 
'  Mother  keept  herself,  the  iron  closet,  the  little  roome 
'  betweene  her  bed's  head  and  the  backstairs,  the  little 
'  and  great  fripperies  (these  were  hanging  closets  for 
i  gowns)  your  owne  greene  wrought  velvet  furniture, 

<  the  looking-glasses  (there  should  be  at  least  four), 
'  leather  carpets  for  the  drawinge  and  dininge  roomes, 
'  the  stooles  with  nailes  guilt,  the  great  cabanet  like 
1  yours,  the  tapestry,  the  great  branch  candle-stick,  all 
'  such  wrought  work  as  my  Mother  had  from  London 
4  and  was  not  finished,  the  booke  of  martirs  and  other 
'  bookes   in   the  withdrawinge-roome,  the  preserving- 
1  room,  the  spicery  with  furnaces  and  brewing  vessels, 
'  plat  left  for  the  children's  use,  all  the  lockes  that  are 

<  loose  in  the  closet.' 

Locks  in  those  days  it  appears  were  not  fastened  to 
the  doors,  but  were  screwed  on  when  wanted,  or  were 
padlocks  to  go  in  a  hasp ;  there  is  a  mention  of  these 
loose  locks  in  an  account  rendered  for  the  board  of  one 
of  the  Commoners  at  Winchester  College  about  this 
date. 

A  very  good  idea  may  be  gained  of  the  rich  and 
luxurious  furniture  of  a  wealthy  house  from  the  inven- 
tory of  the  contents  of  Corfe  Castle  before  the  siege. 
It  was  made  by  an  old  servant  of  the  family  who  had 
lived  in  the  castle,  at  the  request  of  Sir  Ralph  Bankes, 
son  of  the  noble  lady  who  had  distinguished  herself  in 
its  defence.  At  the  Restoration  he  was  elected  Member 
of  Parliament  for  Corfe,  and,  building  a  new  house  at 
Kinson  Lacey  to  replace  his  ruined  home,  was  anxious 
to  trace  out  and  recover  if  possible  as  much  of  the  old 
furniture  and  hangings  as  had  come  into  the  market. 
The  list  is  entitled  :— 

i  A  Perticular  of  the  goods  viewed  by  me  att  Colonell 
Bingham's  house.'1 

1  Hutchins's  History  of  Dorset.— Corfe  Castle  :  G.  Bankes. 


HOUSE  AND  HOME  283 

Among  the  most  interesting  items  are  :— 

'  One  piece  of  ordinary  hangings  for  the  door  of  the 

'  gallery. 

'  Two  pieces  of  ffine  tapestry  for  ye  Gallery,  one  piece 

'  to  hang  behind  my  La:  Bed. 

*  One  piece  for  the  lower  end  of  the  Great  Chamber  ; 
1  one  piece  over  the  chimney  in  the  Great  Chamber. 

*  Two  large  sattin  wrought  window  cushions  ;   one 

*  cushion  of  crimson  velvett  for  a  window. 

'  A  suite  of  Green  leather  Gilted  hangings  ;  one  suite 
'  of  blew  silke  damaske  hangings. 

4  A  silke  quilt  Carpett  for  ye  table  in  the  withdrawing- 
'  room. 

1  A  rich  ebony  Cabbinett  with  gilded  fixtures ;  two 
'  mantles  in  red  silke  damaske,  &  a  white  silke  damaske 
'  with  two  silver  bindings/ 

There  was  also  good  store  of  Turkey  and  Persian 
carpets,  down  pillows,  feather  beds,  Indian  quilts,  fine 
linen,  and  many  books  and  papers. 

Many  articles  were  scattered  up  and  down  amongst  the 
houses  in  the  neighbourhood,  though  a  good  propor- 
tion seem  to  have  found  their  way  to  BinghairTs  Mel- 
combe,  and  several  had  been  carried  up  to  London 
to  be  sold,  as  appears  in  the  report  of  another  person 
employed  to  make  inquiry,  who  writes  : — 

4  Stone,  the  broker  in  Barbican,  had  at  his  house,  a 
'  suite  of  forest  worke  tapestry  hangings  ;  a  green  cloth 
'  bed,  embroyder'd  with  tent  stitch  slips  of  flowers,  and 

*  lined  with  Isabella  coloured  sarsanett.     Also  he  said 

*  he  had  sold  to  a  fine  lord  a  tapestry  sute  of  hangings 

*  of  ye  history  of  Astrea  and  Celadon,  wch  I  think  he 
'  said  he  had  two  or  300  pounds  for. 

*  He  had  also  a  Trunke  with  a  black  wroughte  work'd 
'  bed,  and  ye  other  furniture,  besides  cushions  and  other 

*  things. 

1  All  these  things  I  saw ;  and  ye  bed  my  Master  treated 

*  with  him  to  buy,  and  he  askt  as  dear  for  it  as  he  paid. 


284    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

4  Also  he  said  he  had  sold  a  hangings  for  a  roome,  of 
'  rich  watched  damaske,  all  which  he  said  he  bought  of 
4  Colonel  Bingham,  and  I  think  he  said  he  bought  to 
1  the  value  of  1000  pounds  worth  of  goods  of  him.' 

There  is  also  a  memorandum  endorsed  in  Lady 
Bankes's  own  hand,  entitled — 4  The  goods  lost  in  the 
castle  out  of  the  Wardrop ' : — 

*  7  or  8  suits  of  fine  tapestry  hangings. 
4  A  suit  of  watchet  damask  hangings. 

*  A  suit  of  green  plush  hangings. 

4  A  suit  of  pentado  hangings,  and  curtains,  &  quilt. 
'A  furniture  for  a  bed,  &  carpet,  &  quilt  of  green 

*  cloth  embroyder'd  with  work. 

4  A  white  dimity  bed  and  canopy,  with  the  whole 
4  furniture  wrought  with  black. 

*  Four  Turkey  carpets  with  a  white  ground,  2  of  them 
4  very  long. 

1  8  other  Turkey  &  Persian  carpets,  some  long,  some 

*  less  sizes. 

4  A  wrought  quilt,  white  and  yellow. 

4  A  suit  of  scarlet  and  gilt  leather  hangings. 

*  Several  trunkes  of  linnen,  diaper,  and  damask  and 
4  holland  sheets,  marked,  the  diaper  and  damask  with 
1  MB,  the  other  linnen  1^. 

*  Several  trunkes  with  flaxen  sheets  and  table  linnen 
4  marked. 

*  A  very  krgfs  .ebony  cabinet. 

4  A  very  large  t~lmke  inlay'd  all  over  with  Mother  of 
4  pearle. 

4  A  trunke  with  all  sorts  of  fine  child-bed  linnen,  as 
4  sheets  and  pillow-cases  &  mantles. 

4  One  of  crimson  plushe,  with  two  fair  silver  and  gold 
4  laces. 

4  One  crimson  damaske  mantle  laced,  and  divers 
4  others. 

4  Some  crimson  damask  curtains,  and  long  cushions 
4  for  a  couch. 


HOUSE  AND  HOME  285 

*6  very  fine  and  long  down  beds,  with  bolsters,  & 
4  pilowes,  &  blancketts. 

*  Several    trunkes   of  wearing  clothes  and  wearing 

*  linnen. 

t  Many  bookes  and  papers,  at  ye  value  of  1300 
1  pounds,  all  new,  and  with  many  other  things  not 

*  mentioned. 

4  The  goods  which  were  about  the  Castle  : — 
1 A  large  suit  of  crimson  velvet  chairs,  stooles,  couch 
1  embroyder'd,  long  cushions  of  crimson  velvet. 

*  Turkey  carpets  for  the  tables. 

4  2  furnitures  for  beds,  one  purple,  the  other  crimson, 

*  with  counter-points,  carpets,  stooles,  chairs. 

4  One  suit,  8  pieces  of  superfine  dorcas,  1 2  foot  deep, 
4  the  story  of  Astrea  and  Celadon. 

4  A  second  suit  of  tapestry  12  foot  deep. 

4  A  third  suit,  8  pieces  tapestry,  the  story  of  Constantine. 

4  A  fourth,  fifth,  and  sixth  suit,  12  foot  deep. 

4  In  a  trunk,  with  the  letter  q, — 

4  One  suit  of  hangings,  of  rich  watchet  damask,  lined 
4  with  blew  cloth,  9  pieces,  and  one  carpet. 

4  In  a  trunk  marked  with  the  letter  O, — 

4  A   furniture  of  a  bed   of  french  green    cloth   em- 

*  broyder'd  ;  6  curtains  and  valences,  with  changeable 
4  taffity,  teaster  head-cloth  and  fringe,  all  of  the  same 
4  taffity  ;    2  carpets  of  cloth  embroyder'd,   and  Indian 
4  quilt  of  white  wrought  with  yellow  to  t^e  bed. 

*  6  large  down  and  5  feather  beds  w  u  bolsters. 
4  4  paires  of  down  pilowes  and  quilts. 

4  5  paires  of  fine  long  blanckets. 

*  Fine    linnen    particularly    enumerated,    in     boxes 
4  numbered  and  lettered  from  A  to  the  letter  O. 

4  All  these  things  before  mentioned  in  particular, 
4  with  many  others  not  so  well  remembered,  were  layd 

*  up  together  in  one  room  in  packes  and  trunkes,  and 

*  brought  away  first  to  the  Isle  of  Wight  and  then  to 
4  London,  and    most  of  the    bed-hangings  and  other 


286    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

1  things  sold  to  brokers,  where  some  of  them  have  been 
'  seen.  There  were  besides  lost  in  the  Castle  all  that 
'  which  was  in  use  about  the  Castle  :  a  suit  of  crimson 
'  velvet  in  the  parlour  ;  above  20  good  feather  beds  and 
'  bolsters,  pilowes,  blanckets,  rugs,  and  furniture  to 
'  them  all  ;  new  and  good  hangings  in  several 
<  chambers ;  household  linnen,  new  and  good ;  all 
'  other  necessaries  of  pewter,  brasse,  iron,  tables, 
4  stooles,  and  all  else  belonging  to  a  house  ;  with  many 
*  armes  in  the  magazine  and  hall  of  Sr  Jo:  Bankes 
'  owne,  all  there,  to  the  value  of  above  400  pounds, 
'  pilledg'd  by  the  souldiers.' 

These  items  may  serve  to  give  some  idea  of  the 
variety  of  things  considered  necessary  for  the  comfort 
of  a  well-furnished  house  of  the  period,  and  of  the 
methodical  care  with  which  they  were  all  numbered 
and  ordered.  The  effect  must  have  been  exceedingly 
beautiful :  the  grey  old  walls  hidden  with  storied 
tapestries  and  hangings  of  rich  colour,  the  deep 
windows  filled  with  cushions  of  wrought  satin  or 
crimson  velvet,  the  carved  bedsteads  and  chairs  of 
antique  pattern,  the  ebony  cabinets,  tables  covered  with 
Turkey  or  Persian  *  carpets/  Then  the  comfort  must 
have  been  considerable :  with  such  feather  beds,  down 
pillows,  and  curtains  to  draw  round  the  '  teaster ' — no 
wonder  our  forefathers  could  afford  to  snap  their  fingers 
at  draughts  and  ill-fitting  windows. 

A  somewhat  similar  inventory,  taken  of  the  contents 
of  a  more  modest  home,  Forest  Hill,  where  Milton's 
young  wife  spent  her  girlhood,  is  given  in  Masson's 
Life  of  Milton.  It,  too,  contained  goodly  store  of 
feather  beds,  cushions,  and  hangings,  but  all  on  a  less 
magnificent  scale.  It  gives  a  good  idea  of  the  size  and 
plenishing  of  a  house  of  less  pretension,  just  the  home 
of  an  ordinary  country  gentleman.  There  was  the  hall, 
the  great  parlour,  the  little  parlour,  the  matted  chamber, 
the  study  or  boys'  room,  as  well  as  several  chambers 


HOUSE  AND  HOME  287 

for  family  and  guests ;  in  all  some  fourteen  bed  and 
sitting-rooms,  besides  kitchen,  servants'  chambers, 
pastry,  bake-house,  brew-house,  dairy-house,  cellar, 
stilling-house,  cheese-press  house,  and  wood-house,  as 
well  as  stables,  barns,  yards,  etc.,  round  about.  The 
inventory  included  two  coaches,  one  wain  and  four 
carts,  and  a  large  store  of  timber  and  firewood. 

Many  pieces  of  tapestry,  wrought  carpets,  and  cur- 
tains are  mentioned  ;  one  arras-work  chair,  six  thrum 
chairs,  and  six  wrought  stools.  It  must  not  be  sup- 
posed that  these  were  footstools — such  things  were 
matters  of  high  state  and  luxury.  Stools  were  for  the 
younger  members  of  the  family  to  sit  on.  In  the  early 
part  of  the  century  it  would  have  been  considered  as 
great  a  liberty  for  any  one  below  the  master  of  the 
house  or  a  distinguished  guest  to  seat  themselves  on  a 
chair,  as  in  our  youth  it  would  have  been  for  a  child  to 
appropriate  the  sofa.  The  stools  were  rather  high,  four- 
legged,  and  usually  cushioned  and  trimmed  round  with 
fringe.  Gradually  chairs  came  more  and  more  into  use, 
and  in  the  reign  of  Charles  i.  couches  and  settles  were 
introduced.  The  chairs  belonging  to  royalty,  at  any 
rate,  and  probably  those  in  all  well-furnished  houses, 
were  very  comfortably  cushioned,  to  judge  by  those  at 
Knole,  where  a  very  precious  collection  of  Jacobean 
furniture  is  preserved.  They  had  arms,  and  were  of 
the  cross-legged  pattern,  sometimes  seen  in  old  ecclesi- 
astical chairs,  the  woodwork  very  thick  and  solid 
compared  with  the  much  slighter  make  which  came  in 
with  the  next  century.  Older-fashioned  chairs  of  less 
luxurious  make  had  wooden  seats,  very  broad  but 
shallow,  with  straight  legs,  and  were  in  fact  just  like 
stools  with  back  and  arms  added. 

Wardrobes,  called  fripperies,  had  usually  carved 
doors,  sometimes  in  the  beautiful  linen  pattern  which 
especially  belongs  to  Jacobean  work.  It  was  very  usual 
to  hang  dresses  in  a  light  closet  or  miniature  dressing- 


288    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

room  furnished  with  shelves  and  pegs,  which  opened 
out  of  the  bedroom.  Chests  of  drawers  very  richly 
carved  or  inlaid,  and  with  brass  handles,  were  coming 
in,  though  old-fashioned  people  still  used  the  oak 
coffers  of  an  earlier  day,  especially  for  the  storing  of 
linen.  The  long  heavy  table  or  shovel-board  still  held 
its  place  in  the  hall,  but  for  use  in  the  smaller  parlours 
the  oval  oak  table  with  folding  leaves  and  a  simple 
design  incised  on  the  bevelled  edge,  which  we  now  call 
the  Cromwellian  or  gate  table,  was  coming  in.  Beds 
were  of  course  four-post,  with  carved  posts,  head  and 
foot  board,  and  were  often  finished  above  the  tester  with 
plumes  either  of  feathers  or  tasselled  worsted.  King 
James's  bed  at  Knole,  of  which  there  is  an  illustration 
in  the  Connoisseur  for  September  1902,  has  two  low 
stools  at  the  foot,  as  was  then  customary,  probably  for 
convenience  of  climbing  on  to  the  mountain  of  feathers. 
Children  or  servants  slept  on  little  trundle-beds  that 
were  kept  underneath  the  big  ones,  as  was  described  in 
a  former  chapter.  Mr.  Herbert  passed  the  last  few 
nights  of  his  attendance  on  the  king  on  one  of  these 
pallet-beds  drawn  close  beside  his  royal  master. 

Penshurst,  the  home  of  the  Sidneys,  which  must 
have  been  a  model  of  refined  and  beautiful  surround- 
ings, never  underwent  sack  and  destruction  ;  so,  though 
no  inventory  of  loss  is  extant,  there  remains  what  is 
better,  much  of  the  setting  of  the  old  life  standing 
where  it  has  always  stood,  only  having  passed  through 
the  gradual  change  of  changed  manners,  and  helping 
by  its  very  presence  to  keep  up  the  continuity  of  old 
traditions.1  In  one  room  is  still  to  be  seen  a  *  spinet 

*  of  Spanish  workmanship,  elaborately  ornamented  with 

*  gold  medallions  of  the  Caesars,  in  another  the  mandolin 

*  on  which  Lady  Mary  Sidney  played.'    From  the  walls 
the  portraits  of  Dorothy  and  Lucy,  of  Algernon  and  De 
Lisle,  still  look  down  upon  their  descendants. 

1  Sackarissa,  by  Mrs.  Ady. 


HOUSE  AND  HOME  289 

Some  light  is  thrown  upon  their  household  arrange- 
ments by  Lord  Leicester's  memoranda,  when  the  two 
children  of  the  king,  Princess  Elizabeth  and  the  little 
Duke  of  Gloucester,  were  placed  in  his  wife's  care. 

*  In    June    1649  the   Parliament   placed    the   Duke   of 
'  Gloucester  and  the  Princess  Elizabeth  with  my  wife, 
'  allowing  for  them  ^3000  a  year,  which  was  a  great 
'  accession  of  means  to  my  wife,  in  proportion  to  the 
'  charge  of  these   two   children,   and    ten    or    eleven 

*  servants ;     and    considering    my    expences    in    fuel, 
'  washing,  and  household  stuff,  etc.,  also  that  I  should 
'  have  less  liberty  in  my  own  house  than  I  had,  and  be 

*  obliged  to  attendance  that  would  be  troublesome  to 
'  me,  I  thought  it  very  reasonable  to  abate  a  great  part 
'  of  that  £700  a  year  (Lady  Leicester's  housekeeping 
1  allowance),  and  so  from  Midsummer  1649  I  resolved 
'  to  take  off  £400  a  year.      This  occasioned  a  huge 

*  storm  in  the  house,  but  I  persisted  in  it.' 

It  must  not  be  concluded  from  this  that  Lady 
Leicester  and  her  husband  were  not  on  excellent  terms, 
but  she  was  a  dame  of  high  spirit,  and  quite  able  to 
take  her  own  part  on  occasion,  as  became  a  Percy. 
How  little  she  was  to  be  intimidated  she  showed  when 
after  a  year  a  report  got  about  that  her  little  charges 
were  treated  in  her  household  with  too  much  respect, 
and  Mr.  Speaker  Lenthall  was  sent  down  to  inquire 
into  it.  He  found  them  at  dinner,  sitting  at  a  table 
apart,  and  on  his  remonstrating  with  Lady  Leicester, 
she  told  him  that  as  long  as  she  lived  she  would  never 
allow  any  member  of  her  household  to  sit  at  table  with 
the  king's  children.  It  was  a  pity  for  their  own  sakes 
that  she  had  not  temporised,  for  soon  after  came  an 
order  for  the  removal  of  'the  man  Charles  Stuart's 
children '  to  Carisbrooke.  They  had  been  quietly 
happy  at  Penshurst  with  the  motherly  countess  and  her 
gentle  widowed  daughter,  Lady  Sunderland,  to  whom 
the  little  princess  clung,  and  very  soon  after  her 

T 


2go    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

removal  the  poor  child  drooped  and  pined.  She  had 
never  got  over  the  shock  of  her  father's  death,  and 
within  a  month  she  was  found  dead  in  her  prison,  her 
cheek  resting  upon  the  open  page  of  the  Bible  he  had 
given  her.  She  left  a  diamond  necklace  to  Lady 
Leicester  in  token  of  her  gratitude,  and  l  sundry  other 
little  things  to  my  Lady  Sunderland.' 

Lady  Leicester  obtained  the  loan  of  furniture  and 
plate  from  Whitehall  for  the  use  of  her  charges.  Bed- 
steads of  crimson  and  green  velvet,  fringed  with  gold 
and  silver,  Turkey  carpets,  velvet  folding-stools,  high 
chairs  of  yellow  wrought  satin  with  cushions  and  foot- 
stools to  match,  silver  dishes  and  plate  of  all  kinds, 
porringers  and  caudle-cups,  candle-sticks,  snuffers, 
basins  and  ewers,  and  a  silver  warming-pan  figure 
in  the  list  of  articles  sent  for  their  use. 

A  very  fair  idea  of  the  look  of  the  ordinary  sitting- 
room  of  a  well-to-do  family  at  that  period  may  be 
gathered  from  an  interesting  family  piece  by  Emmanuel 
de  Witte,  shown  at  the  Winter  Exhibition  at  Bur- 
lington House  in  1901.  It  is  a  portrait  of  himself  and 
his  family,  and  the  room  in  which  they  sit  may  be  taken 
as  typical  of  hundreds  of  others  of  his  own  day  and  a 
little  earlier  both  in  England  and  Holland.  There  is  a 
dado  round  the  room  of  a  greenish  blue  with  a  raised 
gilt  pattern,  which  looks  like  stamped  leather ;  there 
are  pictures  on  the  walls,  one  with  a  curtain  hung 
across  it ;  over  the  door  is  a  bust  on  a  bracket.  The 
table  is  covered  with  a  rich-looking  Turkey  cloth,  and 
on  it  stands  a  very  handsome  china  vase  with  a  bouquet 
of  flowers,  and  there  are  bits  of  blue  china  and  pot- 
pourri jars  standing  about.  It  is  evidently  the  home  of 
persons  of  taste.  An  open  door  gives  a  delightfully 
suggestive  glimpse  into  a  sunny  garden, — but  of  the 
garden  we  must  treat  in  another  chapter. 


CHAPTER   XIX 

ON  GARDENS 

THE  garden  must  needs  have  a  chapter  to  itself,  for 
it  was  one  of  the  prime  interests,  the  most  keenly 
appreciated  pleasures  of  the  life  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  and  boasted  at  that  time  a  literature  beside 
which  the  popular  Surrey  gardens  and  German  gar- 
dens of  our  own  day  are  but  as  amiable  trifling.  To 
begin  with,  Gerard's  Herbal^  published  in  the  reign  of 
Queen  Elizabeth,  with  its  exquisite  and  accurate  wood- 
cuts of  every  flower  and  herb,  was  a  book  which  at 
that  day  *  no  gentleman's  library  would  be  without.* 
Then  there  were  the  works  of  Parkinson  and  Trades- 
cant,  the  royal  gardeners,  and  besides  these  professional 
writings,  two  enthusiastic  amateurs,  one  at  the  begin- 
ning and  one  in  the  middle  of  the  century,  Lord  Bacon 
and  John  Evelyn,  added  their  quota.  Evelyn,  indeed, 
was  as  practical  as  any  working  gardener  of  them  all. 
The  poets,  too,  have  much  to  say  in  praise  of  gardens. 
Andrew  Marvell  sings  : — 

I  have  a  garden  of  my  own, 
But  so  with  roses  overgrown 
And  lilies,  that  you  would  it  guess 
To  be  a  little  wilderness.1 

or  again  : — 

What  wondrous  life  is  this  I  lead  ! 
Ripe  apples  drop  about  my  head  ; 


1  'The  Fawn.' 

291 


292     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

The  luscious  clusters  of  the  vine 
Upon  my  mouth  do  crush  their  wine ; 
The  nectarine  and  curious  peach 
Into  my  hands  themselves  do  reach ; 
Stumbling  on  melons  as  I  pass, 
Ensnared  with  flowers,  I  fall  on  grass. 

Here  at  the  fountain's  sliding  foot, 
Or  at  some  fruit-tree's  mossy  root, 
Casting  the  body's  vest  aside, 
My  soul  into  the  boughs  does  glide.1 

But  if  we  let  the  poets  have  their  say,  we  might  quote 
endlessly.  We  will  rather  see  what  the  practical 
ordering  of  gardens  was  to  be.  And  first  let  us  hear 
Lord  Bacon,  first  in  eminence  as  in  time. 

The  longest  of  his  essays  is  the  one  in  which  he 
treats  of  gardens.2  His  ideal  garden  is  suited  to  a 
princely  mansion,  and  is  of  the  noble  extent  of  not 
less  than  thirty  acres,  which  he  would  divide  into  three 
parts :  *  a  green  in  the  entrance,  a  heath  or  desert  in 
4  the  going  forth,  and  the  main  garden  in  the  midst. 

*  The   green    hath   two   pleasures :    the  one,    because 

*  nothing  is  more  pleasant  to  the  eye  than  green  grass 
'  kept  finely  shorn  ;  the  other,  because  it  will  give  you 
1  a  fair  alley  in  the  midst,  by  which  you  may  go  in 
'  front  upon  a  stately  hedge  which  is  to  enclose  the 

*  garden.     But  because  the  alley  will  be  long,  and,  in 
<  the  great  heat  of  the  year  or  day,  you  ought  not  to 
t  buy  the  shade  of  the  garden   by  going  in  the  sun 
4  through  the  green  ;  therefore  you  are,  of  either  side 
1  the  green,  to  plant  a  covert  alley,  upon  carpenters' 
'  work,  about  twelve  foot  in  height,  by  which  you  may 
1  go  in  shade  into  the  garden.' 

In  his  directions  for  planting  the  main  garden  he 
suggests  that  '  in  the  royal  ordering  of  gardens,  there 
1  ought  to  be  gardens  for  all  the  months  in  the  year, 

*  in  which  severally,  things  of  beauty  may  be  then  in 
4  season.     For  December  and  January,  and  the  latter 

1  «  The  Dial.'  2  Bacon's  Essays. 


ON  GARDENS  293 

4  part  of  November,  you  must  take  such  things  as  are 
4  green  all  winter :  holly,  ivy,  bays,  juniper  ;  cypress- 
4  trees  ;  yew,  pines,  fir-trees  ;  rosemary,  lavender  ;  peri- 
4  winkle,  the  white,  the  purple,  and  the  blue ;  ger- 
4  mander,  flag,  orange-trees  ;  lemon-trees  and  myrtles, 
4  if  they  be  stoved  ;  and  sweet  marjoram,  warm  set. 
4  There  followeth  for  the  latter  part  of  January  and 
4  February,  the  mezereon-tree  which  then  blossoms ; 
4  crocus  vernus,  both  the  yellow  and  the  grey  ;  prim- 
4  roses,  anemones,  the  early  tulip,  the  hyacinthus 
4  orientalis,  chamairis  fritillaria.  For  March,  there 
4  come  violets,  especially  the  single  blue,  which  are 
4  the  earliest ;  the  early  daffodil,  the  daisy,  the  almond- 
4  tree  in  blossom,  the  peach-tree  in  blossom,  the  cor- 
4  nelian-tree  in  blossom,  the  sweetbriar.  In  April 

*  follow  the  double  white  violet,  the  wallflower,  the 
4  stock    gilliflower,    the    cowslip,    flower-de-luces,    and 
4  lilies  of  all  natures ;   rosemary  flowers,  the  tulip,  the 
4  double  peony,  the  pale  daffodil,  the  French  honey- 
4  suckle,    the  cherry-tree  in    blossom,  the  damascene 
4  and  plum-trees  in  blossom,  the  white  thorn  in  leaf, 
4  the  lilac-tree.      In  May  and  June  come  pinks  of  all 
4  sorts,  especially  the  blush-pink ;   roses  of  all  kinds, 
4  except  the  musk  which  comes  later ;    honeysuckles, 
4  strawberries,  bugloss,  columbine,  the   French  mari- 
4  gold,  flos  Africanus,  cherry-tree  in  fruit,  ribes,  figs  in 
4  fruit,  rasps,  vine-flowers,  lavender  in  flower,  the  sweet 
4  satyrian  with  the  white  flower  ;  herba  mascaria,  lilium 
4  convallium,  the  apple-tree  in  blossom.     In  July  come 
4  gilliflowers  of  all  varieties,  musk-roses,  the  lime-tree  in 
4  blossom,  early  pears,  and  plums  in  fruit,  gennitings, 
4  codlings.     In  August  come  plums  of  all  sorts  in  fruit, 
4  pears,    apricots,    berberries,    filberds,    musk-melons, 
4  monkshoods    of   all    colours,    peaches,    melocotones, 
4  nectarines,  cornelians,  wardens,  quinces.     In  October 
4  and  the  beginning  of  November  come  services,  med- 

*  lars,  bullaces,   roses  cut  or  removed  to  come   late, 


294    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

'  hollyoaks,  and  such  like.  These  particulars  are  for 
'  the  climate  of  London  ;  but  my  meaning  is  perceived, 
'  that  you  may  have  ver  perpetuum,  as  the  place 
'  affords/ 

I  confess  I  am  ignorant  what  were  the  melocotone, 
the  warden,  the  cornelian,  or  the  sweet  satyrian  with  the 
white  flower.  Authorities  are  not  agreed  either  as  to 
what  our  ancestors  described  as  the  musk-rose.  Keats 
frequently  mentions  it,  and  it  seems  with  him  to  mean 
one  of  the  varieties  of  wild  single  rose.  The  '  flower- 
de-luce  and  lilies  of  all  natures'  spoken  of  for  April 
are  clearly  different  varieties  of  iris,  which  was  un- 
doubtedly the  fleur-de-lys  of  France  and  the  giglia  of 
Florence. 

With  the  accession  of  Charles  i.  the  fashion  of 
gardening  received  a  fresh  impetus,  for  he  and  the 
queen  were  both  enthusiastic  lovers  of  gardens.  One 
of  the  royal  gardeners  was  the  Italian  Tradescant,  who 
introduced  the  formal  Italian  style  with  its  long  shaded 
alleys  of  cypress  or  yew,  its  fountains,  grottoes,  and 
statues — a  kind  of  garden  in  which  flowers  play  but  a 
subsidiary  part,  appearing  in  stone  vases  set  along  the 
edge  of  terraced  walks,  or  on  the  balustrades  of  broad 
flights  of  steps.  A  learned  and  a  cultivated  person  was 
this  Tradescant,  and  established  a  museum  of  curiosities, 
and  his  own  garden  at  Lambeth  was  considered  quite  a 
show-place.  But  the  queen  loved  flowers,  and  had 
other  gardens  and  another  gardener  who  understood 
how  to  grow  and  nurse  up  all  the  homely  old-fashioned 
sorts  in  which  England  at  that  day  was  so  rich.  John 
Parkinson,  in  his  Terrestrial  Paradise,  showed  himself 
rather  the  lover  of  flowers  than  the  landscape  gardener, 
and  his  book  is  a  wonderful  treasury  of  all  the  then 
known  varieties.  Narrower  in  its  scope  than  Gerard — 
for  Parkinson  confines  himself  to  such  flowers  as  were  or 
might  be  grown  in  English  gardens — it  is  even  more 
fascinating  in  its  descriptions,  though  the  plates  are 


ON  GARDENS  295 

perhaps  less  exquisitely  drawn.     His  title-page,   after 
the  fashion  of  that  day,  was  lengthy  : — 


PARADISI  IN  SOLE 
PARADISUS  TERRESTRIS 

A  Garden  of  all  sorts  of  pleasant  flowers  which  our 
English  ayre  will  permit  to  be  nours'd  up : 

with 

A  Kitchen  Garden  of  all  manner  of  herbes,  rootes  &  fruites 
for  meate  or  sause  used  with  us 

& 

An  Orchard  of  all  sorts  of  fruit-bearing  Trees 
and  Shrubbes  fit  for  our  Land 

together 

With  the  right  ordering,  planting  &  preserving 
of  them,  &  their  uses  &  vertues 

Collected  by  JOHN  PARKINSON 
Apothecary  of  London 

1629 

There  is  a  quaint  woodcut  of  the  garden  of  Eden, 
with  Adam  and  Eve  at  work  in  it,  and  then  comes  the 
dedication  : — 

4  TO 
THE  QUEEN'S  MOST  EXCELLENT  MAiEStiE. 

'  MADAME, — Knowing  your  Maiestie  so  much  de- 
i  lighted  with  all  the  faire  Flowers  of  a  Garden,  and 
'  furnished  with  them  as  far  before  others,  as  you  are 
'  eminent  before  them  ;  this  my  Worke  of  a  Garden, 
'  long  before  this  intended  to  be  published,  and  but 
4  now  only  finished,  seemed  as  it  were,  destined,  to  be 
1  first  offered  into  your  Highnesse  hands,  as  of  right 


296    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

'  challenging  the  propriety  of  Patronage  from  all  others. 

'  Accept,  I  beseech  your  Maiestie,  this  speaking  Garden, 
that  may  inform  you  in  all  the  particulars  of  your  store, 
as  well  as  wants,  when  you  cannot  see  any  of  them 
fresh  upon  the  Ground  :  And  it  shall  further  encourage 
him  to  accomplish  the  remainder  ;  who  in  praying  that 
your  Highnesse  may  enjoy  the  Heavenly  Paradise 
after  the  many  yeares  Fruition  of  this  earthly,  sub- 
mitteth  to  be — Your  Maiestie's  in  all  humble  devotion, 

JOHN  PARKINSON.' 

There  is  a  good  deal  of  preamble.  In  his  preface 
(to  the  Courteous  Reader)  he  sets  forth  the  history  of 
gardens,  beginning  at  the  very  beginning  with  Adam. 
He  opines  that  '  Paradise  was  a  place  (whether  you  will 
'  call  it  a  Garden  or  Orchard,  or  both,  no  doubt  of  some 
'  large  extent)  wherein  Adam  was  first  placed  to  abide  ; 

*  that  God  was  the  Planter  thereof,  having  furnished  it 

*  with  trees  and  herbes,  as  well  pleasant  to  the  sight, 

*  as  good  for  meate,  &  that  hee  being  to  dress  &  keepe 
1  this  place  must  of  necessity  know  all  the  things  that 

*  grew  therein,  &  to  what  uses  they  served,  or  else  his 
4  labour  about  them  had  been  in  vaine.     And  though 
<  Adam  lost  the  place  for  transgression,  yet  hee  lost 

*  not  the  naturall  knowledge  nor  use  of  them.'     In  the 
same  leisurely  fashion  he  traces  the  history  of  gardens 
and   the  knowledge  of  herbs  down  to  his  immediate 
predecessor  Gerard,  who,   like   himself,   had   been   an 
apothecary.     His  work  does  not  pretend  to  cover  the 
same  ground  as  Gerard's,  which  described  all  known 
plants,  both  wild  and  cultivated  ;    Parkinson  confines 
himself  to  those   suited   to  English  gardens,  and   he 
claims  that  some  had  been  discovered  that  were  un- 
known to  Gerard. 

He  divides  his  work  into  three  parts.  '  My  Garden 
'  of  pleasant  &  delightful  Flowers.  My  next  Garden 
'  consisteth  of  Herbes  and  Rootes,  fit  to  be  eaten  of 


ON  GARDENS  297 

'  rich  &  poor  as  nourishment  and  food,  as  sawce  or 
'  condiment,    as   sallet   or  refreshing,   for   pleasure   or 

*  profit ;  where  I  do  as  well  play  the  Gardiner  to  shew 
'  you  (in  briefe,  but  not  at  large)  the  times  and  manners 
'  of  sowing,  setting,  planting,  replanting  &  the  like, 

*  ...    as  also  to   shew  some  of  the  Kitchen   uses, 
6  although  I  confess  but  very  sparingly,  not  intending 
'  a  treatise  of  Cookery,  but  briefly  to  give  a  touch  there- 
4  of ;   &  also  the  Physicall  properties,  .  .  .  yet  not  to 
6  play  the  Empericke  &  give  you  receipts  of  medicine 
'  for  all  diseases,  but  only  to  shew  in  some  sort  the 
1  qualities    of   herbes  to   quicken    the    minds    of  the 
'  studious.      And    lastly  an   Orchard    of   all   sorts  of 
'  domesticke  or  forraine,  rare  &  good  fruits,  fit  for  this 

*  our  Land  and  Countrey.' 

In  a  fourth  part  he  promises  to  treat  of  a  Garden  of 
Simples. 

His  book  is  recommended  by  a  Latin  epistle  prefixed 
by  Sir  Theodore  Mayerne,  the  king's  physician,  and 
various  copies  of  Latin  verse  contributed  by  his  medical 
friends.  For  in  those  days  medicine  and  botany  went 
hand-in-hand:  a  knowledge  of  medicine  meant  primarily 
a  knowledge  of  the  properties  of  herbs,  so  if  an  apothe- 
cary turned  gardener,  it  was  rather  applying  himself  to 
another  branch  of  his  profession  than  entering  a  new 
one. 

His  portrait  shows  a  rugged,  humorous  face,  with 
deeply  furrowed  brow,  and  the  narrowed  eyes  of  one 
used  to  looking  closely  at  small  objects.  It  is  the  face 
of  one  who  would  work  with  spade  and  hoe,  yet  he  is 
richly  dressed  as  beseemed  the  queen's  favourite  gar- 
dener, with  a  wide  lace-edged  ruff  and  satin  doublet. 
But  we  linger  too  long  over  these  preliminaries,  and 
the  body  of  the  book  can  be  but  lightly  touched  on. 

His  plans  for  the  laying  out  of  gardens  are  on  a 
much  smaller  scale  than  those  of  the  great  Chancellor — 
in  fact  he  infers  that  most  of  his  readers  will  have  to 


298     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

cut  their  coat  according  to  their  cloth,  and  be  guided  in 
questions  of  aspect  and  size  by  conditions  already  fixed. 
He  contemplates  geometrical  beds,  and  urges  that  box 
edging  be  preferred  to  thrift,  as  that  has,  as  it  still  has, 
such  an  annoying  habit  of  dying  in  patches. 

He  next  proceeds  to  the  enumeration  of  all  varieties, 
both  indigenous  and  l outlandish,'  into  which  space  would 
fail  to  follow  him,  save  to  point  out  peculiarities  here  and 
there.  '  Carnations  and  Gilloflowers  bee  the  chiefest 
flowers  of  account  in  all  our  English  gardens/  says  he, 
and  instructs  the  reader  carefully  how  slips  should  be 
taken.  This  confirms  the  remark  of  Mr.  Marcus  Huish 
in  his  book  on  needlework,  on  the  fact  that  carnations 
figure  so  largely  in  English  embroidery.  There  was 
also  an  infinite  variety  of  lilies,  crown  imperial,  Turk's 
cap,  Persian,  etc. 

Tulips,  it  seems,  came  then  from  Armenia,  Candia, 
Bolonia,  and  other  places  as  well  as  from  Holland. 
There  were  vast  numbers  of  daffodils,  amongst  which 
he  enumerates  the  fritillary  or  chequered  daffodil,  and 
'the  strange  sea  daffodil  from  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope/ 
which  the  plate  shows  to  have  been  what  we  now  call  the 
blue  lily.  Such  quaint  old  names  as  moly  and  asphodel 
occur,  and  a  spiderwort  which  John  Tradescant  had 
recently  introduced  from  Virginia.  The  flower-de-luce 
and  all  irises,  he  says,  came  from  Spain,  except  the 
narrow-leaved  sort  which  we  call  Spanish  iris,  which 
came  from  Africa.  He  has  a  prettier  name  for  gladwin 
than  stinking  flag, — he  calls  it  sea  flower-de-luce. 

Even  then  they  were  bringing  in  specimens  of  the 
Alpine  flora,  for  he  mentions  that  the  yellow  pasque- 
flower is  to  be  found  '  growing  very  plentifully  at  the 

*  foote  of  St.  Bernarde's  Hill  neare  unto  the  Cantons 

*  of  the   Switzers.'      Geranium   with   him    did   not  of 
course   mean   the   stiff  scarlet   thing   with   which   the 
modern  garden  is  bedded  out,  but  the  stork's-bill  or 
crane's-bill,    of    which   many    kinds    are    enumerated, 


ON  GARDENS  299 

spotted  or  striped.  Gerard  has  a  most  exquisite  draw- 
ing of  the  striped  variety  which  I  remember  in  a 
great-aunt's  garden  in  my  childhood,  and  have  never 
seen  since.  '  Dusty  Millers '  was  probably  a  local 
name  for  auriculas,  for  he  calls  them  beare's  ears, 
purple  beare's  ears,  or  murray  cowslip.  The  quaint 
varieties  of  cowslip,  the  hose-in-hose,  gallegaskins, 
franticke  or  foolish  cowslip  will  recall  to  many  an  early 
acquaintance  with  this  old-world  gardener  in  the  pages 
of  Mary's  Meadow,  by  Mrs.  Ewing.  The  nomenclature 
throughout  is  delightfully  graphic.  One  variety  of 
'  stocke  -  gilloflower '  figures  as  the  i  melancholicke 
'  gentleman ' ;  the  clematis  is  virgin's  bower.  It  is  odd 
that  the  passion-flower  was  then  called  the  Virginia 
creeper.  Lilium  convallium  appears  as  Lilly  Convally 
or  May  Lily. 

The  list  of  roses  is  short  but  very  sweet.  *  English 
'  white,  Carnation  rose,  English  red,  Damaske,  Double 
'  damaskeor  Province  rose,  red  or  white;  party-coloured 
4  or  York  and  Lancaster  (still  to  be  found  in  some  old- 

*  fashioned   gardens) ;  Chrystall,  Dwarfe   red,  Franck- 
'  ford,    Hungarian,    Velvet,     Rose    without   thornes  ; 
4  Cinamon,  Single  yellow,  Double  yellow,  Muske  rose, 

*  single  or  double  ;  Spanish  muske,  Apple  rose,  Single 

*  eglantine  or  Sweet-briar  bush.' 

We  must  not  fail  to  linger  among  the  *  raspes,  currans, 
and  apricockes ' ;  but  I  must  quote  what  he  says  about 
strawberries.  They  are  eaten  *  as  a  reare  service  where- 

*  unto  claret  wine,  cream  or  milke  is  added  with  sugar 
1  as  every  one  liketh.     They  are  good  for  perturbation 

*  of  the  spirits,' — in  which  dictum  I  am  sure  his  readers 
will  heartily  agree. 

It  is  interesting  to  compare  this  list  of  flowers 
with  those  known  to  Evelyn,  and  also  Lord  Bacon's 
calendar  for  the  seasons  with  the  Kalendarium  Hor- 
tense.  This,  of  course,  was  published  many  years 
later,  but  as  John  Evelyn  was  living,  gardening 


3oo    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

and  storing  up  experiences  from  before  the  time 
Parkinson  laid  down  the  pen,  his  work  belongs  more 
properly  to  the  period  which  produced  than  to  that 
which  followed  it,  in  which  his  precepts  were  gradually 
set  at  nought  and  superseded.  There  is  very  little 
change  in  his  enumeration  of  flowers,  except  that  his 
seem  rather  the  scantier.  He  alludes  to  a  few 
novelties.  Melons,  he  says,  were  rarely  cultivated  in 
England  '  till  Sir  George  Gardiner  came  out  of  Spain, 
'  I  myself  remembering  when  an  ordinary  melon  would 
*  have  been  sold  for  five  or  six  shillings.'  In  Marvell's 
day,  however,  the  melon  was  certainly  growing  in  the 
open  garden,  or  how  else  could  he  have  stumbled 
over  it  ? 

Stumbling  on  melons  as  I  pass, 
Ensnared  with  flowers,  I  fall  on  grass. 

I  incline  to  fancy  that  *  Thoughts  in  a  Garden '  must 
have  been  written  earlier  than  the  '  Ode  to  Cromwell/ 

To  return  to  Evelyn's  Kalendar.  He  gives,  for 
January,  primroses,  Oriental  jacinth,  Levantine  nar- 
cissus, and  tulips.  These  must,  of  course,  have  been 
grown  under  glass  —  he  was  great  at  what  he  calls 
Hybernaculce.  Neither  he  nor  Bacon  allows  February 
her  snowdrop,  but  Evelyn  has  it  for  December,  and 
gives  to  February  the  yellow  violet,  a  flower  we  do  not 
see  now.  In  March  he  has  the  crown  imperial  and  the 
grape-flower,  and  in  April  he  says  the  Arbor  Judce 
ought  to  blossom.  It  hardly  does  so  before  May  on 
the  shores  of  the  Bosphorus.  Frosts  in  May  could 
not  have  been  so  frequent  as  now,  for  under  this 
month's  operations  he  directs,  '  now  bring  out  your 
orange-trees  boldly.'  But,  of  course,  the  difference 
between  old  style  and  new,  amounting  to  almost  a 
fortnight,  would  partly  account  for  this — a  fortnight  at 
that  time  of  year  makes  an  enormous  difference — just 
as  it  also  explains  the  fact  that  nowadays  children  can 


ON  GARDENS  301 

hardly  find  suitable  flowers  for  their  May-day  garlands. 
His  lists  for  the  summer  months  are  almost  the  same 
as  Bacon's  ;  that  for  September  is  very  long,  and 
comprises  most  of  our  flowers.  Under  November 
planting  he  recommends  Syringa,  which  also  appears 
in  Parkinson,  and  with  <  Elder  or  Gelder '  seems  to 
have  been  a  favourite  for  shrubberies — for  our  fore- 
fathers of  all  things  loved  scents.  In  this  dreary 
month  he  expected  meadow  saffron  to  bloom,  and  in 
December  winter  cyclamen,  anemones,  and  black  helle- 
bore. It  is  curious  to  note  that  both  he  and  Parkinson 
write  Laurus  Tinus  as  two  words. 

In  his  '  Acetaria,  or  Discourse  upon  Sallets,'  from 
which  I  have  already  culled  recipes,  he  goes  more 
particularly  into  the  herb-garden  and  what  was  de- 
sirable to  plant  there  for  their  various  useful  qualities. 
For  instance,  Basil,  he  tells  us,  'is  cordial,  exhilar- 
'  ating,  soveraigne  for  the  braine,  strengthening  the 
1  memory,  and  powerfully  chasing  away  melancholy. 

*  Sprigs  of  it  put  into  wine  during  the  heat  of  summer 
1  give  it  a  marvellous  quickness.' 

Borage,  too,  is  '  an  exhilarating  cordial  of  a  pleasant 
1  flavour :  the  tender  leaves  and  the  flowers  especially, 

*  may  be  eaten   in   composition :    but  above    all    the 
1  sprigs  in  wine,   like  those  of  Baum,   are   of  known 
1  Vertue  to  revive  the  Hypochondriac  and  cheer  the 
<  hard  Student.' 

Of  cabbage  he  speaks  contemptuously,  as  '  afford- 
ing but  a  crass  and  melancholy  juice.'  Lettuce  is 
soporific,  while  fennel  '  sharpens  the  sight  and  re- 
creates the  brain.'  Rosemary  is  also  good  for  the 
memory,  sight,  and  nerves,  and  *  mustard  revives  the 
spirits.' 

Evelyn  was  more  of  a  practical  gardener  than  Lord 
Bacon,  who,  having  '  taken  all  Learning  for  his 
province,'  and  added  thereto  the  cares  of  the  Lord 
Chancellorship,  must  needs  have  left  the  management 


302     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

of  his  hives  and  the  picking  of  his  snails  to  subordin- 
ates. But  Evelyn  with  his  ample  leisure  goes  carefully 
into  the  care  of  the  bees,  directing  that  in  January 
you  must  turn  up  your  hives  and  sprinkle  them  with 
a  little  warm  and  sweet  wort, — 'do  it  dexterously,'  he 
adds.  In  autumn  he  is  particular  to  note  that  you 
should  go  snailing  on  the  walls  under  the  fruit-trees, 
but  he  never  mentions  slugs  :  were  there  none  in  those 
happy  *  paradises  *  ? 

A  paradise  or  pleasaunce  was  quite  a  common  as 
well  as  a  very  appropriate  name  in  earlier  days  than 
these :  in  conventual  buildings  the  garden  is  generally 
described  under  the  former  term.  In  his  preface,  like 
Parkinson,  he  makes  allusion  to  the  Garden  of  Eden 
and  the  work  of  the  first  gardener ;  classical  references 
also  abound,  and  quotations  from  the  Georgics.  The 
epistle  dedicatory  is  addressed  to  Cowley,  a  poet  who 
wrote  much  in  praise  of  country  life,  and  whose  own 
aspiration  was 

May  I  a  small  house  and  large  garden  have. 

Himself  an  amateur,  Mr.  Evelyn  acknowledged 
gratefully  how  much  he  owed  to  '  the  Mercinary 
*  Gard'ner,  especially  to  Mr.  Rose,  Gard'ner  to  his 
'  Majesty,  and  Mr.  Turner  of  Wimbleton  in  Surrey.' 
So  Surrey  was  even  then  famous  for  its  gardens.  These 
men  were  the  successors  of  our  friend  John  Parkinson 
and  Tradescant,  the  famous  Italian,  for  '  his  Majesty ' 
of  course  meant  Charles  n.  The  book  was  not  pub- 
lished until  his  reign. 

Sir  Edmund  Verney  took  a  great  interest  in  his 
garden,  and  when  in  town  inquired  much  for  the 
welfare  of  his  vines  and  fig-trees.  He  often  got 
ornamental  trees  and  shrubs  over  from  Holland,  as 
well  as  Persian  tulips  and  ranunculuses.  He  also 
understood  a  good  deal  about  woodcraft  and  forestry. 
In  one  letter  he  mentions  with  interest  a  remarkable 


ON  GARDENS  303 

quicken  or  service-tree  which  was  growing  in  Sir  John 
Tradescant's  garden  at  South  Lambeth.  It  was  near 
forty  feet  high  and  bore  large  pear-shaped  berries. 
When  Ralph  and  his  wife  were  in  France  they  sent 
1  new  vegetables  and  sallets '  over  to  his  uncle,  Dr. 
Denton,  but  he  ungratefully  declared  they  were  no 
better  than  what  he  had  already. 

There  was  a  great  fashion  at  this  time  for  topiary, 
and  a  skilful  professor  of  the  art  was  sure  of  constant 
employment.  Lord  Bacon,  however,  was  somewhat 
scornful  of  it.  *  For  my  part,'  says  he,  'I  like  not 
1  images  cut  out  in  juniper  or  other  garden  stuff ; 
1  they  be  for  children.  Little  low  hedges,  like  round 
'  welts,  with  some  pretty  pyramids,  I  like  well ;  and  in 
4  some  places  fair  columns  upon  frames  of  carpenters' 
'  work.'  He  preferred  walks  shaded  with  arches  on 
which  creepers  were  trained,  and  adds :  '  I  would  also 
'  have  alleys  spacious  and  fair.  As  for  the  making  of 
1  knots,  or  figures  with  divers  coloured  earths,  that 
'  they  may  lie  under  the  windows  of  the  house  on 

*  that  side  on  which  the  garden  stands,  they  be  but 
'  toys  :   you   may  see  as  good  sights   many  times  in 
<  tarts.'     In  spite  of  this  he  suggests  that  embowered 
alleys  be  finished  off  with  just  such  plates  of  round 
coloured  glass  gilt  for  the  sun  to  play  upon  as  you 
may  see  in  any  German  suburban   garden,  and  pro- 
poses to   put  between   the  arches  cages  of  birds   or 
little  figures. 

Aviaries  he  does  not  approve  of,  '  except  they  be 
'  of  that  largeness  as  they  may  be  turfed  all  over,  and 
'  have  living  plants  and  bushes  set  in  them,  that 
1  the  birds  may  have  more  scope  and  natural  nesting, 

*  and    that    no    foulness   appear    on   the   floor   of  the 
'  aviary. 

'  For  fountains,  they  are  a  great  beauty  and  refresh- 

*  ment ;  but  pools  mar  all,  and  make  the  garden  un- 
1  wholesome  and   full   of  flies  and  frogs.      Fountains 


304    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

'  I  intend  to  be  of  two  natures  :  the  one  that  sprinkleth 
<  or  spouteth  water ;  the  other  a  fair  receipt  of  water, 

*  of  some  thirty  or  forty  feet  square,  but  without  fish 
6  or  slime  or  mud.  .  .  .   The  main  point  is  that  the 
'  water  be  in  perpetual  motion,  fed  by  a  water  higher 
j  than  the  pool,  and  delivered  into  it  by  fair  spouts, 
'  and   then   discharged    away   underground,    by   some 
'  equality   of  bores,    that  it  stay   little  ;    and   for  fine 
4  devices,    of    arching    water    without    spilling,    and 

*  making  it  rise  in  several  forms  (of  feathers,  drink- 
4  ing  glasses,  canopies,  and  the  like),  they  be  pretty 
4  things  to  look  on,  but  nothing  to  health  and  sweet- 
'  ness.* 

In  spite  of  Lord  Bacon's  strictures,  the  fashion  of 
clipped  or  pleached  hedges,  alleys,  or  figures  grew 
apace.  Fantastic  little  pyramids,  like  the  trees  in  a  toy- 
box,  peacocks,  turkey-cocks,  and  other  quaint  devices 
emerged  from  yew  or  box-hedges  that  were  like  a 
solid  wall  for  thickness,  and  in  very  old  gardens  we 
may  see  them  still,  though  generally  more  or  less 
straggling  and  decayed,  for  topiary  is  a  lost  art. 

Besides  these  the  sun-dial  was  a  great  feature  of 
the  Jacobean  garden,  standing  generally  on  a  stone 
pedestal  in  the  midst  of  a  grass-plat  where  it  might 
court  the  sun  the  whole  day  long.  It  always  had  an 
inscription  round  either  dial  or  base,  usually  in  Latin. 
It  is  not  always  easy  to  date  these,  but  the  two  follow- 
ing well-known  ones  were  probably  in  existence  at  this 
time.  HORAS  NON  NUMERO  NISI  SERENAS  conveys  a 
charming  moral,  and  FUGIT  Lux  PERMANET  UMBRA,  if 
saddening  on  a  dull  day,  might  be  otherwise  read  as  it 
ran  round  the  pedestal — Lux  PERMANET  UMBRA  FUGIT. 
One  very  charming  fancy  of  those  days  was  to  design 
a  dial  in  flowers  that  opened  in  succession,  some  at 
dawn,  some  in  the  full  sunshine  of  noon,  some  closing 
in  the  early  afternoon,  others  at  dusk,  while  a  few, 
as  the  evening  primrose,  did  not  open  till  the  dark. 


ON  GARDENS  305 

Andrew   Marvell   has  such   in   the   ideal   garden,   the 
portrait  of  which  he  draws  so  lovingly — 

How  well  the  skilful  gard'ner  drew 
Of  flowers  and  herbs  this  dial  new  ! 
Where,  from  above,  the  milder  sun 
Does  through  a  fragrant  zodiac  run  : 
And,  as  it  works,  th'  industrious  bee 
Computes  its  time  as  well  as  we. 
How  could  such  sweet  and  wholesome  hours 
Be  reckon'd,  but  with  herbs  and  flowers  ! 

It  would  be  impossible  to  conclude  this  sketch  of 
the  garden  of  other  days  more  fitly  than  by  one  more 
quotation  from  Lord  Bacon,  upon  its  fragrance. 

'  And  because  the  breath  of  flowers  is  far  sweeter  in  the 
<  air,  where  it  comes  and  goes,  than  in  the  hand,  there- 
1  fore  nothing  is  more  fit  for  that  delight  than  to  know 
'  what  be  the  plants  and  flowers  that  do  best  perfume 

*  the  air.     Roses,  damask  and  red,  are  fast  flowers  of 
'  their  smells  ;  so  that  you  may  walk  by  a  whole  row 
1  of  them,  and  find  nothing  of  their  sweetness  ;   yea, 
'  though   it   be   in   a   morning's   dew.      Bays   likewise 
'  yield   no   smell   as   they   grow,    rosemary   little,    nor 
4  sweet  marjoram  ;   that  which  above  all  others  yields 
'  the  sweetest  smell  in  the  air,  is  the  violet,  especially 
'  the  white  double  violet,  which  comes  twice  a  year, 
'  about  the  middle  of  April,  and  about  Bartholomew- 
'  tide.     Next  to  that  is  the  musk-rose  ;  then  the  straw- 
6  berry   leaves   dying,    with   a    most   excellent   cordial 
'  smell ;  then  the  flower  of  the  vines,  it  is  a  little  dust 
t  like  the  dust  of  a  bent,  which  grows  upon  the  cluster 

*  in  the  first  coming  forth  ;  then  sweetbriars,  then  wall- 
'  flowers,  which  are  very  delightful  to  be  set  under  a 
'  parlour  or  lower  chamber  window  ;   then  pinks  and 

*  gilliflowers,  especially  the  matted  pink  and  clove-gilli- 
'  flower ;  then  the  flowers  of  the  lime-tree  ;  then  the 

*  honeysuckles,  so  they  be  somewhat  far  off.     Of  bean- 

u 


3o6    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 

'  flowers  I  speak  not,  because  they  are  field  flowers  ; 
1  but  those  which  perfume  the  air  most  delightfully, 
'  not  passed  by  as  the  rest,  but  being  trodden  upon  and 
'  crushed,  are  three,  that  is,  burnet,  wild  thyme,  and 
'  watermint ;  therefore  you  are  to  set  whole  alleys  of 
'  them  to  have  the  pleasure  when  you  walk  or  tread.' 

From  this  formal  garden  it  must  have  been  delightful 
to  proceed  into  the  heath  or  wilderness,  which  is  thus 
described : — <  For  the  heath,  which  was  the  third  part 

*  of  our  plot,  I  wish  it  to  be  framed  as  much  as  may  be 
f  to  a  natural  wildness.     Trees  I  would  have  none  in  it, 
1  but  some  thickets  made  only  of  sweetbriar  and  honey- 
c  suckle,  and  some  wild  vine  amongst ;  and  the  ground 
'  set  with  violets,  strawberries,  and  primroses  ;  for  these 
1  are  sweet,  and  prosper  in  the  shade  ;  and  these  are  to 
1  be  in  the  heath  here  and  there,  not  in  any  order.     I 
1  like  also  little  heaps,  in  the  nature  of  mole-hills  (such 

*  as  are  in  wild  heaths),  to  be  set,  some  with  wild  thyme, 
1  some  with  pinks  ;  some  with  germander,  that  gives  a 
'  good  flower  to  the  eye  ;  some  with  periwinkles,  some 
'  with  violets  ;  some  with  strawberries,  some  with  cow- 
'  slips  ;  some  with  daisies,  some  with  red  roses  ;  some 
'  with  lilium  convallium,  some  with  sweet-williams  red ; 
1  some  with  bear's  foot  and  the  like  low  flowers,  being 
'  withal  sweet  and  sightly ;  part  of  which  heaps  to  be  with 
'  standards  of  little  bushes  pricked  upon  their  tops,  and 
'  part  without :  the  standard  to  be  roses,  juniper,  holly, 
<  berberries  (but  here  and  there  because  of  the  smell  of 

*  their  blossom),  red  currants,  gooseberries,  rosemary, 

*  bays,  sweetbriar,  and  such  like  ;  but  these  standards 

*  to  be  kept  with  cutting  that  they  grow   not  out  of 
1  course.' 

Was  the  wilderness  at  '  delicious  Lees,'  where  Mary, 
Countess  of  Warwick,  erstwhile  Mary  Boyle,  loved  to 
retire  to  a  green  solitude  to  read  good  books  or  make 
her  meditations,  like  this,  or  was  it  not  something 
wilder?  Her  latest  biographer,  Miss  Fell  Smith, 


ON  GARDENS  307 

describes  it  as  a  woodland  slope  or  bit  of  coppice 
running  down  to  the  stream.  Wild  flowers  it  probably 
had  in  profusion — flags  most  likely,  and  kingcups  and 
forget-me-nots  in  their  season,  but  hardly  this  ordered 
wildness  so  carefully  laid  out.  A  wooden  seat,  or  the 
remains  of  one,  still  exists,  halfway  up  a  tree  which  she 
had  had  made  that  she  might  enjoy  an  absolute  seclu- 
sion, and  here  for  hours  together  she  read  and  thought 
and  wrote,  for  she  was  one  of  those  to  whom  green  fields 
or  the  quiet  of  deep  woods  was  better  than  church  or 
oratory.  Perhaps  to  her,  as  to  Cardinal  Newman,  a 
garden  was  '  a  place  of  spiritual  repose,  stillness,  peace, 
refreshment,  and  delight.' 

With  the  garden  this  description  of  the  home  must 
end.  Of  the  larger  life  outside,  of  amusements,  friend- 
ships, social  functions,  and  of  the  diverse  religious 
opinions  that  so  deeply  affected  the  development  of 
individual  character  and  personal  relations,  a  future 
volume  must  tell. 


INDEX 


APPLE-PIE,  9. 

Acetaria,  240,  301. 

Ad  Portas,  51. 

^isop,  24,  33,  65. 

Alphabet,  9,  35,  248,  249. 

Alpine  Flora,  298. 

Amusements,  156,  236. 

Andrewes,  Lancelot,  64. 

Apprentices,  225. 

Apsley,  Lucy,  14,  16,  100,  135  seq. 

Aristotle,  77,  82. 

Arithmetic,  42,  82,  93. 

Astrology,  79. 

Astronomy,  79. 

Athena  Oxonienses,  32,  39,  80,  85. 

Aubrey,  21,  144,  153. 

Aviaries,  303. 

BABY,  2  seq.,  178. 
Baby-clothes,  3. 
Bacon,  237. 

Lord,  291,  299,  303. 

Ball,  17. 

Balliol,  90. 

Bamfield,  Colonel,  163  seq. 

Battledore,  100. 

Blacknall,  Mary,  174. 

Blackfriars,  269. 

Books,  23,  31,  78,  84,  104. 

Bo-peep,  8. 

Botany,  82. 

Boyle,  Francis,  60,  62,  83,  124. 

Lewis,  73. 

Mary,  23,  128,  253,  265,  306. 

Robert,  60,  62. 

Roger,  73. 

Breakfast,  92,  235. 
Browne,  Sir  Thomas,  54- 
Busby,  Doctor,  63. 

CAESAR'S  Commentaries,  65. 
Cambridge,  77,  91  seq. 
Camden,  63. 
308 


Candlemas,  21. 
Carew,  60,  62. 
Carne,  116. 
Carrier,  89. 
Gary,  Lorenzo,  u. 

Lucius,  II,  96,  141. 

Sir  Henry,  117,  193,  196. 

Catechism,  33,  39,  56,  57,  234. 

Catholics,  67,  68. 

Chaplain,  220. 

Charles  I.,  10,  28,  29,  124,  163,  187, 

236,  274. 
Chevy  Chase,  23. 
Chicksands,  132. 
Child,  i  seq. 
Chillingworth,  68,  203. 
Christening,  176. 

Christmas,  91,  94,  108,  238,  245,  253. 
Cicero,  65. 
Cinderella,  23. 
Circum,  57. 
Clare,  96. 

Clarendon,  86,  226. 
Claydon,  4,  87,  109,  177,  281. 
Cleveland,  92. 
Coals,  237. 
Cocker,  42. 
Coffee,  235. 
Colet,  Dean,  64. 
Collet,  the  sisters,  of  Little  Gidding, 

255. 

Comemus,  33,  39,  42. 
Compleat  Gentleman,  40,  74,  77. 
ComuS)  79. 
Conopios,  235. 
Cook,  214,  217. 
Cookery,  229. 
Coote,  37. 

Corfe  Castle,  282  seq. 
Cork,  Earl  of,  60,  61,  73,  108,  122, 

129,  215,  265,  280. 
Cosin,  Bishop,  92. 
Cosmography,  78. 


INDEX 

126  seq.,   143 


309 


Courtship,    113   seq., 

seq.,  i$$seq. 

Cowley,  Abraham,  243,  302. 
Cradle,  6. 
Crashaw,  92. 

Criss-cross  row,  9,  35,  37. 
Cromwell,  99. 
Crowther,  86. 
Curing,  237. 

DANCING,  75,  100,  101,  109,   145, 

246. 

Dandy,  269. 
Denton,  Lady,  12. 

Nancy,  98. 

William,  52,  86,  96,  176,  178, 

1 80. 

D'Ewes,  Sir  Symonds,  94. 
Dials,  304. 
Digby,  Sir  Kenelm,  25,  67,  143  seq., 

2.1$  seq.,  270. 

Venetia,  153. 

Dillon,  James,  109,  257. 

Dinner,  235. 

Discipline,  9,  12,  32,  41,  51,  93,  199, 

209. 

Distilling,  229. 
Dolls,  1 6. 
Drawing,  80. 
Dress,   16,  90,   139,   194,  210,  259, 

263. 
Ducks  and  drakes,  22. 

EARLE,  Bishop,  i,  83,  89,  214,  228. 
Education,  31  seq.,  46  seq.,  66  seq., 

77  seq.,  98  seq.,  104. 
Elegies,  154. 

Elizabeth,  Princess,  29,  99,  105. 
Embroidery,  251,  253. 
English  Schoole- Master,  37. 
Eton,  46,  60  seq. 
Evelyn,  John,  31,  90,  230,  235,  289, 

240,  244,  291,  299,  302. 

Richard,  33. 

Ewenny  Priory,  1 16. 

FABLES,  24,  33. 

Falkland,   Elizabeth,   Lady,    10,  68, 
193,  253. 

Henry  Gary,  Lord,  141,  196. 

Lettice,    Lady,    10,    104,    141, 

235- 
Lucius  Gary,  Lord,  96,  203, 

206. 
Family,  209  seq. 


Fanshawe,  Lady,  2,  104,  141,  235. 

Sir  Richard,  182. 

Farnaby,  Thomas,  39. 
Fashion,  260,  268. 

plates,  265. 

Fasting,  49,  61,  77,  80,  95. 
Ferrar,  Nicholas,  96. 
Fiennes,  Nathaniel,  54,  56. 
Fireplaces,  280. 
Fletcher,  Giles,  63. 
Flogging,  94. 
Forest  Hill,  286. 
Fox-lox,  24. 
Fudd,  Nan,  4,  24,  233. 
Fuller,  Thomas,  91. 
French,  99,  106. 

GAMES,  16,  84,  100,  245. 
Garden,  290,  291  seq. 
Gardener,  222,  294,  302. 
Geography,  79,  82,  87. 
Geometry,  82,  93. 
Gerard,  John,  291. 
Gill,  64. 

Girls,  ofcseq.,  113. 
Gloucester,  Dean  of,  67. 

Duke  of,  29. 

Grammar,  39,  41,  42,  78. 

Schools,  39,  46. 

Greek,  42,  48,  52,  64,  72,  87,  93,  99. 
Guitar,  109. 

HAIRDRESSING,  233,  265. 
Halkett,  Anne,  38,  155. 

Sir  James,  169. 

Hamilton,  Sir  James,  129. 

Hammond,  134. 

Harley,  Lady  Brilliana,  88,  in,  189, 

213,  238,  243,  274. 
Harpsichord,  101. 
Harris,  Warden,  47,  51,  56. 
Harrison,  John,  60,  62. 
Anne,  104,  180. 


Harvey,  Richard,  43,  219. 
Hebrew,  64. 

Henry,  Prince  of  Wales,  76,  105. 
Herbal,  291. 

Herbert,  Edward,  Lord,  40,  42,  66, 
80,  114. 

George,  63,  209,  232,  234. 

Sir  Thomas,  29,  236,  238,  274. 

Herrick,  Robert,  II. 
Hide-and-seek,  18. 
Hillesden,  81. 
Hollar,  Wenceslaus,  265. 


310    HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 


Hooker,  Richard,  64. 

Horace,  65. 

Horn-Book,  15,  31,  35,  36,  278. 

House,  276  seq. 

Housewife,  229  seq. 

Howard  (Mr.  H.),  126. 

Anne,  168,  221. 

Howell,  James,  20,  2IO,   214,    224, 

278. 

Hunting,  50,  194. 
Hutchinson,  Mrs.,  14,  16,  134  seq., 

230,  253,  268. 

Hyde,  Edward,  86,  141,  183. 
Henry,  226. 

INNS  OF  COURT,  85. 
Inventories,  281  seq.,  286. 
Ipswich,  65. 
Isham,  Mrs.,  273. 

JAMES  i.,  9,  75,  95. 

Janua  Linguamm  Reserata,  33. 

Jewell  House  of  Art  and  Nature,  9. 

Jewelry,  244,  262,  263,  266. 

Jonson,  Ben,  63. 

Juxon,  Bishop,  64. 

Kalendarium  Hortense,  230,  299. 
Ken,  Thomas,  54,  57. 
Killigrew,  198,  201. 
Komensky,  v.  Comenius. 

LATIN,  32,  33,  40,  42,  48,  58,  65, 
72,  87,  93,  96,  99,  101,  102,  137. 

Laud,  Archbishop,  53,  67. 

Leake,  Doll,  109,  257. 

Lee,  Anne,  109,  243,  273. 

Leicester,  Earl  of,  107,  207,  216, 
288. 

Countess  of,  106,  289. 

Liber  Famelicus,  238,  244. 

Lilly,  39,  41,  65. 

Lincoln's  Inn,  135. 

Linen,  232,  245,  263,  264,  284. 

Lismore,  23,  108. 

Little  Gidding,  255. 

Logic,  8 1,  93. 

Long  Melford,  278. 

Lullabies,  6  seq. 

Lute,  101,  106. 

MAGDALEN  COLLEGE,  128. 

Hall,  59,  86,  89. 

Makyn,  Mrs.  Bathsua,  99. 
Marriage,  113  seq.,  125  seq.,  171  seq. 


Marvell,  Andrew,  291,  305. 

Mathematics,  93. 

Mead,  89. 

Medicine,  83,  230,  297. 

Merchant  Taylors',  46,  64. 

Merton,  85. 

Metheglin,  238,  239,  245. 

Microcosmography,  i,  83,  214,  228. 

Middle  Temple,  91. 

Milton,  14,  40,  64,  79,  91,  99,  172, 

286. 

Morris  dancers,  51. 
Morrison,  Lettice,  14,  141. 
Mourning,  270. 
Mummers,  51. 
Mundus  Muliebris,  244, 
Murray,  Anne,   105,   126,   155   seq., 

221,  231,  252. 

Will,  165,  167. 

Music,  62,  65,  79,  91,  101,  109,  136, 

179,  246. 

NAN,  4,  233. 

Needlework,  IOI,  103,  106,  247  seq. 

'  Needle's  Excellency,'  249. 

New  College,  51. 

Nurse,  4,  99,  100. 

Nursery,  i  seq. 

Rhymes,  6,  8  seq.,  17  seq.,  21 

seq. 

ORINDA  (the  matchless),  100. 
Ornatus  Muliebris  Anglicanus,  265. 
Osborne,    Dorothy,    100,    129,    172, 

275- 

Ovid,  65. 
Oxford,  31,  59,  77,  85  seq.,  114,  119, 

181. 

PALMER,  Sir  Geoffrey,  182. 

Paradisi  in  Sole,  etc.,  295. 

Parkinson,  294. 

Patterns,  257. 

Peacham,  40,  41,  74,  77,  269. 

Penshurst,  107,  288. 

Peterhouse,  135. 

Phillips,  Katharine,  100. 

Physician,  230,  297. 

Pickle,  241. 

Plato,  82,  96. 

Platonists,  96. 

Pleached  alleys,  222,  292. 

Poetry,  79. 

Porter,  Angela,  13. 

Charles,  13,  44. 


INDEX 


Porter  children,  3,  23,  44. 

Endymion,   7,   13,  25,  42,  74, 

196,  220. 

George,  14,  198,  199. 

Olivia,  16,  196,  209,  262,  264. 

Portraits,  3,  144,  259,  262. 
Powell,  Mary,  173. 
Prefects,  48. 
Prepositors,  52. 
Primer,  37. 

Public  Schools,  46  seq. 
Puerilis,  33. 
Purbeck,  Lady,  171. 
Puritan,  20,  71,  86,  89,  91,  92,  94, 
96,  ioo,  254,  266,  268. 

QUEEN    HENRIETTA   MARIA,  233, 
262,  295. 

RAWDON,  Marmaduke,  26,  211,  217, 

260,  267. 
Recipes,  239  seq. 
Recusants,  67,  195. 
Religion,  53,  57,  78,   92,  95,    '76, 

195,  234- 
Rich,  Charles,  129. 

Lady  Diana,  275. 

Mary,  221. 

Riding,  80,  83,  105,  193,  201,  243. 

Roades,  Will,  221. 

Robin  Hood,  23. 

Rod,  n,  23,  209. 

Romance,  143  seq. 

Rouge,  273. 

SACKVILLE,  Sir  Edward,  151,  153. 
Sacrament,  57,  157. 
Salads  (Sallet),  pp.  240,  241. 
Salmon,  Mrs.,  ioo. 
Samplers,  9,  248,  255. 
School,  32  seq. ,  99. 
School  Colloquies  of  Corderius,  40. 
Shakespeare,  n,  79,  249. 
Shepherd,  Luce,  99,  213,  219. 
Sidney,  Dorothy,  107,  126,  134,  202, 
290. 

Isabella,  172. 

Robin,  27. 

Sidney  Sussex,  93. 
Smallpox,  134,  140,  142. 
Smoking,  81,  236. 
Spain,  199. 
Spanish,  107. 
Spelling,  37. 
Spenser,  79. 


Spinning,  232,  245. 
Sport,  80,  93,  105. 
Spring  Gardens,  156. 
Socinianism,  203. 
Stalbridge,  108. 
Stanley,  Doctor,  51,  59. 

Venetia,  25,  143  seq. 

Steward,  129,  219,  221,  265. 

St.  John's  College,  Cambridge,  94. 

St.  Paul's,  46,  64. 

Sucking-bottle,  6,  27  n. 

Sunday,  95. 

Sunderland,  128,  2O2,  205. 

Sun-dials,  304. 

Surgeon,  196. 

Surgery,  domestic,  230. 

TAILORS,  260,  263. 
Tales,  nursery,  23. 
Tanfield,  Elizabeth,  10,  102,  117, 

126,  193. 

Tapestry,  248,  251,  283,  287. 
Taylor,  John,  8,  249. 
Temple,  Sir  William,  4,  129,  275. 
Tew,  Great,  142. 
Theatrum  Mulierum,  267. 
Thimbles,  257. 
Tom  Thumb,  23. 

Tidier,  19. 

Topiary,  303. 

Toys,  17. 

Trade,  224. 

Tradescant,  John,  294,  303. 

Travelling,  66. 

Trinity  College,  Dublin,  96. 

Tutors,  66,  73,  86,  88,  90,  95,  101, 

105. 

UNIVERSITY,  77  seq. 

VANDYCK,  16,  259,  265,  273. 

Van  Somers,  259. 

Verney,  Betty,  5,  ioo,  233. 

Sir  Edmund,  76,  118,  120,  121, 

222,  302. 
Edmund,  son,  12,  52,  54,  59, 

87,  88,  1 10. 

grandson,  12,  72. 

Family,  4,  12,  38,  86,  96,  106, 

233,  281. 

Henry,  ill. 

Jack,  4,  24,  219. 

Margaret,  Lady,  217,  263,  270. 

Mary,   Lady,  2,   4,    109,    118, 

174,  233,  252,  257,  262,  273. 


2     HOME  LIFE  UNDER  THE  STUARTS 


Verney,  Ralph,  72,  86,  87,  96,  109, 
no,  174,212,235,237,252,  255, 
268,  270,  271. 

Villiers,  Moll,  28,  114. 

Viol,  62,  101. 

Virgil,  65. 

Virginals,  1 06. 

Visitation,  53. 

WAITING  GENTLEWOMAN,  232. 
Waller,  Edmund,  107,  127. 

—  Sir  William,  55. 
Wallington,  Mrs.,  243,  253. 
Ward,  Seth,  92. 
Wards,  114,  118,  173- 


Watches,  274. 
Westminster,  46,  56,  63. 
Whitelocke,  Sir  James,  64. 
Wilderness,  306. 
Wilson,  lute-player,  80. 
Winchester,  46  seq.^  210. 
Wood,  Anthony,  31,  39,  80,  85. 
Woodhall,  23,  43. 
Worth  of  a  Peny,  269,  273. 
Wotton,  Sir  Henry,  60,  61,  63. 
Wren,  Matthew,  Bishop  of  Ely,  64. 
Wykeham,  William  of,  48. 

YORK,  Duke  of,  18,  167. 


Edinburgh :  Printed  by  T.  and  A.  CONSTABLE 


BORR 

BEDFORD,  JESSIE 


Home  life  under  the 
the  Stuarts