Read Ebook: Memoirs of Lady Fanshawe Wife of Sir Richard Fanshawe Bt. Ambassador from Charles II to the Courts of Portugal and Madrid. by Fanshawe Ann

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Lady Fanshawe states in a very feeling manner the situation in which she found herself after her husband's death; and it is scarcely possible to read her allusions to his long and faithful services, and the heavy sacrifices which he made, without admitting the justice of the charge so often brought against Charles, of being neglectful of his servants. It is, however, more than possible that the fault was not the monarch's alone. He was surrounded by greedy and selfish courtiers, each eager to advance his own interest, and possessed of similar claims on the ground of services; and as the spoils out of which they sought to enrich themselves were limited, it was an obvious point of policy to oppose the demands of others. The few years which succeeded the Restoration are among the most disgraceful in the annals of this country; and to the evidence which exists of the want of principle which characterised the Court of Charles the Second, these Memoirs are no slight addition. The monarch was heartless and profligate; his ministers, with very few exceptions, were intent alone on the promotion of their own interests; and services and sufferings were nothing in the balance against the influence of the royal mistresses. In such a state of things, merit availed but little; and with a host of other zealous adherents of the royal family, at a time when fidelity was attended with the fearful penalties attached to high treason, Sir Richard Fanshawe, after thirty years' devotion to his master, and spending a fortune in his cause, was sacrificed to the intrigues of his enemies, and probably was only spared by death from greater mortifications.

To this outline of the lives of Sir Richard and Lady Fanshawe little remains to be added. The Memoir, though continued to the year 1670, contains very few facts after her return to England which are deserving of notice. It is manifest that her hopes were destroyed, and that her only happiness consisted in reflecting on the past. Her first object was to reduce her establishment according to her altered fortune, and the second to educate her family. In 1670 she lost her excellent father, whose death added heavily to her misfortunes; but she possessed that resource against human woes which can only be inspired by a reliance upon Him who never deserts the widow and the fatherless. Her life had been marked by extreme vicissitudes; and at its conclusion--dark and cheerless as it was--she wisely looked for consolation where she had so frequently found it, and where, it may be confidently said, it is never sought in vain.

Of the conduct of Sir Richard Fanshawe, as a servant of the Crown, and as a husband and a father, sufficient is said in the Memoir; but it is desirable to notice his literary labours, which are stated in the Biographia Britannica to consist of--

"Time was, when I, a pilgrim of the seas, When I, 'midst noise of camps and court's disease, Purloin'd some hours, to charm rude cares with verse, Which flame of faithful shepherd did rehearse.

"But now, restrain'd from sea, from camp, from court, And by a tempest blown into a port, I raise my thoughts to muse of higher things, And echo arms and loves of queens and kings.

"Which queens Would neither man obey, nor man command; Great pleasure from rough seas to see the shore; Or, from firm land, to see the billows roar."

Sir Richard, to whom Mr. Campbell assigns the merit of having given "to our language some of its earliest and most important translations from modern literature," wrote several other articles, which he had not leisure to complete; and it is said that "some of the before mentioned printed pieces have not all the perfection which our ingenious author could have given them, but that is not the case with his excellent translation of Pastor Fido."

That translation is highly complimented by Denham, who observes,

"Such is our pride, or folly, or our fate, That few but such as cannot write translate;"

and after censuring servile translators, he says--

"Secure of fame, thou justly dost esteem Less honour to create than to redeem; That servile path thou nobly dost decline, Of tracing word by word, and line by line."

And,

"That master's hand, which to the life can trace The air, the line, the features, of the face, May with a free and bolder stroke express A varied posture, or a flatt'ring dress; He could have made those like, who made the rest, But that he knew his own design was best."

Part of Sir Richard Fanshawe's official correspondence, during his embassies in Spain and Portugal, was published in 1701, from which many extracts have been printed at the end of this volume; but the latest letter therein is dated 26th January 1665. The rough copies of his correspondence from that time until his death, are preserved in the Harleian MS. 7010, in the British Museum, the most interesting parts of which are added to the other extracts.

Of her numerous children, the following particulars have been gleaned from her Memoir and other sources.

The daughters were:

Although some trouble has been taken to trace the descendants of Sir Richard and Lady Fanshawe, all which has been discovered is, that their daughters became their co-heirs about 1695; that Sir Edmund Turnor, the husband of Lady Fanshawe's sister, in his will, dated 15th May 1705, and proved in 1708, mentions his nieces Fanshawe, Grantham, and niece Ann Fanshawe, alias Ryder, and Anne Lawrence, daughter of his niece Ryder; and that the MS. from which this volume is printed is said to have been transcribed in 1766 by Lady Fanshawe's "great granddaughter, Charlotte Colman."

MEMOIRS OF LADY FANSHAWE

I have thought it good to discourse to you, my most dear and only son, the most remarkable actions and accidents of your family, as well as those more eminent ones of your father; and my life and necessity, not delight or revenge, hath made me insert some passages which will reflect on their owners, as the praises of others will be but just, which is my intent in this narrative. I would not have you be a stranger to it; because, by the example, you may imitate what is applicable to your condition in the world, and endeavour to avoid those misfortunes we have passed through, if God pleases.

Endeavour to be innocent as a dove, but as wise as a serpent; and let this lesson direct you most in the greatest extremes of fortune. Hate idleness, and curb all passions; be true in all words and actions; unnecessarily deliver not your opinion; but when you do, let it be just, well-considered, and plain. Be charitable in all thought, word and deed, and ever ready to forgive injuries done to yourself, and be more pleased to do good than to receive good.

Be civil and obliging to all, dutiful where God and nature command you; but friend to one, and that friendship keep sacred, as the greatest tie upon earth, and be sure to ground it upon virtue; for no other is either happy or lasting.

Endeavour always to be content in that estate of life which it hath pleased God to call you to, and think it a great fault not to employ your time, either for the good of your soul, or improvement of your understanding, health, or estate; and as these are the most pleasant pastimes, so it will make you a cheerful old age, which is as necessary for you to design, as to make provision to support the infirmities which decay of strength brings: and it was never seen that a vicious youth terminated in a contented, cheerful old age, but perished out of countenance. Ever keep the best qualified persons company, out of whom you will find advantage, and reserve some hours daily to examine yourself and fortune; for if you embark yourself in perpetual conversation or recreation, you will certainly shipwreck your mind and fortune. Remember the proverb--such as his company is, such is the man, and have glorious actions before your eyes, and think what shall be your portion in Heaven, as well as what you desire on earth.

Manage your fortune prudently, and forget not that you must give God an account hereafter, and upon all occasions.

Remember your father, whose true image, though I can never draw to the life, unless God will grant me that blessing in you; yet, because you were but ten months and ten days old when God took him out of this world, I will, for your advantage, show you him with all truth, and without partiality.

He was of the highest size of men, strong, and of the best proportion; his complexion sanguine, his skin exceedingly fair, his hair dark brown and very curling, but not very long; his eyes grey and penetrating, his nose high, his countenance gracious and wise, his motion good, his speech clear and distinct. He never used exercise but walking, and that generally with some book in his hand, which oftentimes was poetry, in which he spent his idle hours; sometimes he would ride out to take the air, but his most delight was, to go only with me in a coach some miles, and there discourse of those things which then most pleased him, of what nature soever.

He was very obliging to all, and forward to serve his master, his country, and friend; cheerful in his conversation; his discourse ever pleasant, mixed with the sayings of wise men, and their histories repeated as occasion offered, yet so reserved that he never showed the thought of his heart, in its greatest sense, but to myself only; and this I thank God with all my soul for, that he never discovered his trouble to me, but went from me with perfect cheerfulness and content; nor revealed he his joys and hopes but would say, that they were doubled by putting them in my breast. I never heard him hold a disputation in my life, but often he would speak against it, saying it was an uncharitable custom, which never turned to the advantage of either party. He would never be drawn to the fashion of any party, saying he found it sufficient honestly to perform that employment he was in: he loved and used cheerfulness in all his actions, and professed his religion in his life and conversation. He was a true Protestant of the Church of England, so born, so brought up, and so died; his conversation was so honest that I never heard him speak a word in my life that tended to God's dishonour, or encouragement of any kind of debauchery or sin. He was ever much esteemed by his two masters, Charles the First and Charles the Second, both for great parts and honesty, as for his conversation, in which they took great delight, he being so free from passion, that made him beloved of all that knew him, nor did I ever see him moved but with his master's concerns, in which he would hotly pursue his interest through the greatest difficulties.

He was the tenderest father imaginable, the carefullest and most generous master I ever knew; he loved hospitality, and would often say, it was wholly essential for the constitution of England: he loved and kept order with the greatest decency possible; and though he would say I managed his domestics wholly, yet I ever governed them and myself by his commands; in the managing of which, I thank God, I found his approbation and content.

Now you will expect that I should say something that may remain of us jointly, which I will do though it makes my eyes gush out with tears, and cuts me to the soul to remember, and in part express the joys I was blessed with in him. Glory be to God, we never had but one mind throughout our lives. Our souls were wrapped up in each other's; our aims and designs one, our loves one, and our resentments one. We so studied one the other, that we knew each other's mind by our looks. Whatever was real happiness, God gave it me in him; but to commend my better half, which I want sufficient expression for, methinks is to commend myself, and so may bear a censure; but, might it be permitted, I could dwell eternally on his praise most justly; but thus without offence I do, and so you may imitate him in his patience, his prudence, his chastity, his charity, his generosity, his perfect resignation to God's will, and praise God for him as long as you live here, and with him hereafter in the Kingdom of Heaven. Amen.

Your father was born in Ware Park, in the month of June, in the year of our Lord 1608, and was the tenth child of Sir Henry Fanshawe, whose father bought Ten, in Essex, and Ware Park, in Hertfordshire. This, your great-grandfather, came out of Derbyshire from a small estate, Fanshawe-Gate, being the principal part that then this family had, which exceeded not above two hundred pounds a year, and about so much more they had in the town and parish of Dronfield, within two miles of Fanshawe-Gate, where the family had been some hundreds of years, as appears by the church of Dronfield, in the chancel of which church I have seen several grave-stones with the names of that family, many of them very ancient; and the chancel, which is very old, was and is kept wholly for a burying-place for that family.

There is in the town a free school, with a very good house and noble endowment, founded by your great-grandfather, who was sent for to London in Henry the Eighth's time, by an uncle of his, and of his own name, to be brought up a clerk under his uncle Thomas Fanshawe, who procured your great-grandfather's life to be put with his in the patent of Remembrancers of his Majesty's Exchequer, which place he enjoyed after the death of his uncle, he having left no male issue, only two daughters, who had both great fortunes in land and money, and married into the best families in Essex in that time. This was the rise of your great-grandfather, who, with his office and his Derbyshire estate, raised the family to what it hath been and now is. He had one only brother, Robert Fanshawe, who had a good estate in Derbyshire, and lived in Fanshawe-Gate, which he hired of his eldest brother, your great-grandfather.

In this house my mother was born, Margaret, the eldest daughter of Robert, your great-great-uncle: he married one of the daughters of Rowland Eyes, of Bradway, in the same county of Derby, by whom he had twelve sons and two daughters: that family remains in Dronfield to this day.

Your great-grandfather married Alice Bourchier, of the last Earl of Bath's family, by whom he had only one son that lived, Henry, which was your grandfather; afterwards, when he had been two years a widower, he married one of the daughters of Customer Smythe, who had six sons and six daughters: his sons were Sir John Smythe, Sir Thomas Smythe, Sir Richard Smythe, Sir Robert Smythe, Mr. William Smythe, and Mr. Edward Smythe, who died young: two were knighted by Queen Elizabeth, and two by King James; the eldest was grandfather of the now Lord Strangford; the second had been several times ambassador, and all married into good families, and left great estates to their posterity, which remain to this day. The daughters were Mrs. Fanshawe, your great-grandmother-in-law; the second married Sir John Scott, of Kent; the third married Sir John Davies, of the same county; the fourth married Sir Robert Poynz, of Leicestershire; the fifth married Thomas Butler, of Herald, Esq.; and the sixth married Sir Henry Fanshawe, your grandfather: these all left a numerous posterity but Davies, and this day they are matched into very considerable families.

Your great-grandfather had by his second wife, Sir Thomas Fanshawe, Clerk of the Crown, and Surveyor-General of King James; to him he gave his manor of Jenkins, in Essex, valued at near two thousand a year.

His second son by the same wife, William, he procured to be Auditor of the Duchy, whose posterity hath in Essex, at Parslowes, about seven or eight hundred pounds a year. His eldest daughter married Sir Christopher Hatton, heir to the Lord Chancellor Hatton; his second married Sir Benjamin Ayloffe, of Brackstead, in Essex; the third married Mr. Bullock Harding, in Derbyshire; all men of very great estates. As your grandfather inherited Ware Park and his office, the flower of his father's estate, so did he of his wisdom and parts; and both were happy in the favour of the princes of that time, for Queen Elizabeth said that your grandfather was the best officer of accounts she had, and a person of great integrity; and your grandfather was the favourite of Prince Henry, and had the Prince lived to be King, had been Secretary of State, as he would often tell him. Mr. Camden speaks much in praise, as you may see, of Sir Henry Fanshawe's garden of Ware Park, none excelling it in flowers, physic herbs, and fruit, in which things he did greatly delight; also he was a great lover of music, and kept many gentlemen that were perfectly well qualified both in that and the Italian tongue, in which he spent some time. He likewise kept several horses of manege, and rid them himself, which he delighted in, and the Prince would say none did it better; he had great honour and generosity in his nature, and to show you a little part of which I will tell you this of him. He had a horse that the then Earl of Exeter was much pleased with, and Sir Henry esteemed, because he deserved it. My Lord, after some apology, desired Sir Henry to let him have his horse and he would give him what he would; he replied, "My Lord, I have no thoughts of selling him but to serve you; I bought him of such a person, and gave so much for him, and that shall be my price to you as I paid, being sixty pieces"; my Lord Exeter said, "That's too much, but I will give you, Sir Henry, fifty," to which he made no answer; next day my Lord sent a gentleman with sixty pieces, Sir Henry made answer, "That was the price he paid and once had offered him, my Lord, at, but not being accepted, his price now was eighty"; at the receiving of this answer my Lord Exeter stormed, and sent his servant back with seventy pieces. Sir Henry said, that "since my Lord would not like him at eighty pieces, he would not sell him under a hundred pieces, and if he returned with less he would not sell him at all"; upon which my Lord Exeter sent one hundred pieces, and had the horse. His retinue was great, and that made him stretch his estate, which was near if not full four thousand pounds a year; yet when he died, he left no debt upon his estate. He departed this life at the age of forty-eight years, and lies buried in the chancel, in a vault with his father in the parish church of Ware; he was as handsome and as fine a gentleman as England then had, a most excellent husband, father, friend, and servant to his Prince. He left in the care of my lady his widow, five sons and five daughters. His eldest son succeeded him in his lands and office, and after the restoration of the King, he was made Lord Viscount of Dromore in Ireland; he did engage his person and estate for the crown, and fought in the battle of Edgehill, and this ruined his estate, and was the cause of his sons selling Ware Park; afterwards he tried, by the King's assistance, to be reimbursed, but could not prevail. He was a very worthy, valiant, honest, good-natured gentleman, charitable, and generous, and had excellent natural parts, yet choleric and rash, which was only incommode to his own family: he was a very pretty man, for he was but low, of a sanguine complexion, much a gentleman in his mien and language; he was sixty-nine years of age when he died, and is buried with his ancestors in Ware Church.

He married first the daughter of Sir Giles Allington, by whom he hath a daughter called Anne, who remains a maid to this day; his second wife was Elizabeth, daughter to Sir William Cockain, Lord Mayor of London. She was a very good wife, but not else qualified extraordinary in any thing. She brought him many children, whereof now remain three sons and five daughters.

Thomas, Lord Viscount Fanshawe, his eldest son, died in May 1674; he was a handsome gentleman, of an excellent understanding, and great honour and honesty. He married the daughter and sole heir of Knitton Ferrers, of Bedford-bury, in the county of Hertford, Esq., by whom he had no child. After his father's death he married the daughter of Sir John Evelyn, widow to Sir John Wrey, of Lincolnshire; by this wife he had several children, of which only two survived him, Thomas, now Lord Viscount Fanshawe, and Katherine. His widow is lately married unto my Lord Castleton, of Senbeck, in Yorkshire. He lies buried with his ancestors in the Parish Church of Ware. Your uncle Henry, that was the second, was killed in fighting gallantly in the Low Countries with the English colours in his hand. He was very handsome and a very brave man, beloved and lamented by all who knew him. The third died a bachelor; I knew him not. The fourth is Sir Simon Fanshawe, a gallant gentleman, but more a libertine than any of his family; he married a very fine and good woman, and of a great estate; she was daughter and coheir to Sir William Walter, and widow to Knitton Ferrers, son to Sir John Ferrers, of Hertfordshire.

Your father, Sir Richard Fanshawe, Knight and Baronet, one of the Masters of the Requests, Secretary of the Latin Tongue, Burgess for the University of Cambridge, and one of his Majesty's most honourable Privy Council of England and Ireland, and his Majesty's Ambassador to Portugal and Spain, was the fifth and youngest son. He married me, the eldest daughter of Sir John Harrison, Knight, of Balls, in the county of Hertford; he was married at thirty-five years of age, and lived with me twenty-three years and twenty-nine days; he lies buried in a new vault I purchased of Humphry, Lord Bishop of London, in St. Mary's Chapel in the Church of Ware, near his ancestors, over which I built him a monument.

My dear husband had six sons and eight daughters, born and christened, and I miscarried of six more, three at several times, and once of three sons when I was about half gone my time. Harrison, my eldest son, and Henry, my second son; Richard, my third; Henry, my fourth; and Richard, my fifth, are all dead; my second lies buried in the Protestant Church-yard in Paris, by the father of the Earl of Bristol; my eldest daughter Anne lies buried in the Parish Church of Tankersley, in Yorkshire, where she died; Elizabeth lies in the Chapel of the French Hospital at Madrid, where she died of a fever at ten days old; my next daughter of her name lies buried in the Parish of Foot's Cray, in Kent, near Frog-Pool, my brother Warwick's house, where she died; and my daughter Mary lies in my father's vault in Hertford, with my first son Henry; my eldest lies buried in the Parish Church of St. John's College in Oxford, where he was born; my second Henry lies in Bengy Church, in Hertfordshire; and my second Richard in the Esperanza in Lisbon in Portugal, he being born ten weeks before my time when I was in that Court. I praise God I have living yourself and four sisters, Katherine unmarried, Margaret married to Vincent Grantham, Esq., of Goltho, in the county of Lincoln, Anne, and Elizabeth.

Now I have shown you the most part of your family by the male line, except Sir Thomas Fanshawe, of Jenkins, who has but one child, and that a daughter, and two brothers, both unmarried. Their father as well as themselves was a worthy honest gentleman and a great sufferer for the Crown, wholly engaging his estate for the maintenance thereof; and so is my cousin John Fanshawe, of Parslowes, in Essex, who hath but two sons, one unmarried by his first wife, who was the daughter of Sir William Kingsmill; and the other is a child whom he had by his last wife, the daughter of my cousin, Thomas Fanshawe, of Jenkins.

I confess I owe Sir Thomas Fanshawe as good a character as I can express, for he fully deserves it, both for his true honours, and most excellent acquired and natural parts; and that which is of me most esteemed, he was your father's intimate friend as well as near kinsman; and during the time of the war he was very kind to us, by assisting us in our wants, which were as great as his supports; which, though, I thank God, I have fully repaid, yet must ever remain obliged for his kindness and the esteem he hath for us.

He married the daughter and heir of Sir Edward Heath, a pretty lady and a good woman; but I must here with thankfulness acknowledge God's bounty to your family, who hath bestowed most excellent wives on most of them, both in person and fortune; but with respect to the rest, I must give with all reverence justly your grandmother the first and best place, who being left a widow at thirty-nine years of age, handsome, with a full fortune, all her children provided for, kept herself a widow, and out of her jointure and revenue purchased six hundred pounds a year for the younger children of her eldest son; besides, she added five hundred pounds a piece to the portions of her younger children, having nine, whereof but one daughter was married before the death of Sir Henry Fanshawe, and she was the second, her name was Mary, married to William Neuce, Esq., of Hadham, in Hertfordshire; the eldest daughter married Sir Capell Bedells, of Hammerton, in Huntingdonshire; the third never married; the fourth married Sir William Boteler, of Teston, in Kent; the fifth died young. Thus you have been made acquainted with most of your nearest relations by your father, except your cousins german, which are the three sons of your uncle, Lord Fanshawe, and William Neuce, Esq., and his two brothers, and Sir Oliver Boteler, and my Lady Campbell, three maiden sisters of hers, and my Lady Levingthorpe, of Blackware, in Hertfordshire. There was more, but they are dead; and so are the most part of them I have named, but their memories will remain as long as their names, for honest, worthy, virtuous men and women, who served God in their generations in their several capacities, and without vanity none exceeded them in their loyalty, which cost them dear, for there were as many fathers, sons, uncles, nephews, and cousins german, and those that matched to them, engaged and sequestered for the Crown in the time of the late rebellion as their revenue made nearly eighty thousand pounds a year, and this I have often seen a list of and know it to be true.

The use of which to you is, that you should not omit your duty to your king and country, nor be less in your industry to exceed at least, not shame, the excellent memory of your ancestors. They were all eminent officers; and that, I believe, keeping them ever employed, made them so good men. I hope in God the like parallel will be in you, which I heartily and daily pray for.

I was born in St. Olave's, Hart-street, London, in a house that my father took of the Lord Dingwall, father to the now Duchess of Ormond, in the year 1625, on our Lady Day, 25th of March. Mr. Hyde, Lady Alston, and Lady Wolstenholme, were my godfather and godmothers. In that house I lived the winter times till I was fifteen years old and three months, with my ever honoured and most dear mother, who departed this life on the 20th day of July, 1640, and now lies buried in Allhallow's Church, in Hertford. Her funeral cost my father above a thousand pounds; and Dr. Howlsworth preached her funeral sermon, in which, upon his own knowledge, he told before many hundreds of people this accident following: that my mother, being sick to death of a fever three months after I was born, which was the occasion she gave me suck no longer, her friends and servants thought to all outward appearance that she was dead, and so lay almost two days and a night, but Dr. Winston coming to comfort my father, went into my mother's room, and looking earnestly on her face, said "she was so handsome, and now looks so lovely, I cannot think she is dead"; and suddenly took a lancet out of his pocket and with it cut the sole of her foot, which bled. Upon this, he immediately caused her to be laid upon the bed again and to be rubbed, and such means as she came to life, and opening her eyes, saw two of her kinswomen stand by her, my Lady Knollys and my Lady Russell, both with great wide sleeves, as the fashion then was, and said, Did not you promise me fifteen years, and are you come again? which they not understanding, persuaded her to keep her spirits quiet in that great weakness wherein she then was; but some hours after she desired my father and Dr. Howlsworth might be left alone with her, to whom she said, "I will acquaint you, that during the time of my trance I was in great quiet, but in a place I could neither distinguish nor describe; but the sense of leaving my girl, who is dearer to me than all my children, remained a trouble upon my spirits. Suddenly I saw two by me, clothed in long white garments, and methought I fell down with my face in the dust; and they asked why I was troubled in so great happiness. I replied, O let me have the same grant given to Hezekiah, that I may live fifteen years, to see my daughter a woman: to which they answered, It is done; and then, at that instant, I awoke out of my trance;" and Dr. Howlsworth did there affirm, that that day she died made just fifteen years from that time. My dear mother was of excellent beauty and good understanding, a loving wife, and most tender mother; very pious, and charitable to that degree, that she relieved, besides the offals of the table, which she constantly gave to the poor, many with her own hand daily out of her purse, and dressed many wounds of miserable people, when she had health, and when that failed, as it did often, she caused her servants to supply that place.

She left behind her three sons, all much older than myself. The eldest, John, married three wives: by his last, who was the daughter of Mr. Ludlow, a very ancient and noble family, he left two daughters, who are both unmarried. My second brother, William, died at Oxford with a bruise on his side, caused by the fall of his horse, which was shot under him, as he went out with a party of horse against a party of the Earl of Essex, in 1643. He was a very good and gallant young man; and they are the very words the king said of him, when he was told of his death: he was much lamented by all who knew him. The third, Abraham, hath left no issue; I was the fourth, and my sister Margaret, the fifth, who married Sir Edmund Turner, of South Stock, in Lincolnshire, a worthy pious man.

My father, in his old age, married again, the daughter of Mr. Shatbolt, of Hertfordshire, and had by her a son, Richard, and a daughter, Mary. The son married the eldest daughter of the now Lord Grandison, and the daughter married the eldest son of Sir Rowland Lytton, of Knebworth, in Hertfordshire. My father lived to see them both married; and enjoyed a firm health, until above eighty years of age. He was a handsome gentleman of great natural parts, a great accomptant, vast memory, an incomparable penman, of great integrity and service to his prince; had been a member of several Parliaments; a good husband and father, especially to me, who never can sufficiently praise God for him, nor acknowledge his most tender affection and bounty to me and mine; but as in duty bound, I will for ever say, none had ever a kinder and better father than myself. He died on the 28th day of September, 1670; and lies buried by my mother in his own vault in Allhallows Church, in Hertford.

My father was born at Bemond, in Lancashire; the twelfth son of his father, whose mother was the daughter of Mr. Hippom, cousin german to the old Countess of Rivers. I have little knowledge of my father's relations more than the families of Aston, Irland, Sandis, Bemond, and Curwen, who brought him to London and placed him with my Lord Treasurer Salisbury, then Secretary of State, who sent him into Sir John Wolstenholm's family, and gave him a small place in the Custom- house, to enable him for the employment. He, being of good parts and great capacity, in some time raised himself, by God's help, to get a very great estate, for I have often heard him say that, besides his education, he never had but twenty marks, which his father gave him when he came to London, and that was all he ever had for a portion. He made it appear with great truth that, during the time of the war, he lost by the rebels above one hundred and thirty thousand pounds, and yet he left his son sixteen hundred pounds a year in land, and gave his daughter above twenty thousand pounds.

Now it is necessary to say something of my mother's education of me, which was with all the advantages that time afforded, both for working all sorts of fine works with my needle, and learning French, singing, lute, the virginals and dancing, and notwithstanding 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 riding in the first place, running, and all active pastimes; in short, I was that which we graver people call a hoyting 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 my delight, but upon my mother's death, I then began to reflect, and, as an offering to her memory, I flung away those childnesses that had formerly possessed me, and, by my father's command, took upon me charge of his house and family, which I so ordered by my excellent mother's example as found acceptance in his sight. I was very well beloved by all our relations and my mother's friends, whom I paid a great respect to, and I ever was ambitious to keep the best company, which I have done, I thank God, all the days of my life. My father and mother were both great lovers and honourers of clergymen, but all of Cambridge, and chiefly Doctor Bamberge, Doctor Howlsworth, Broanbricke, Walley, and Mickelthite, and Sanderson, with many others. We lived in great plenty and hospitality, but no lavishness in the least, nor prodigality, and, I believe, my father never drank six glasses of wine in his life in one day.

He was but seven years old when his father died, and his mother, my Lady, designed him for the law, having bred him first with that famous schoolmaster Mr. Farnaby, and then under the tuition of Dr. Beale, in Jesus College in Cambridge, from whence, being a most excellent Latinist, he was admitted into the Inner Temple; but it seemed so crabbed a study, and disagreeable to his inclinations, that he rather studied to obey his mother than to make any progress in the law. Upon the death of his mother, whom he dearly loved and honoured, he went into France to Paris, where he had three cousins german, Lord Strangford, Sir John Baker of Kent, and my cousin Thornhill. The whole stock he carried with him was eighty pieces of gold, and French silver to the value of five pounds in his pocket; his gold was quilted in his doublet; he went by post to lodgings in the Fauxbourg St. Germain, with an intent to rest that night, and the next day to find out his kindred; but the devil, that never sleeps, so ordered it, that two friars entered the chamber wherein he was, and welcoming him, being his countrymen, invited him to play, he innocently only intending diversion, till his supper was ready; but that was not their design, for having engaged him, they left him not as long as he was worth a groat, which when they discovered, they gave him five pieces of his money until he could recruit himself by his friends, which he did the next day: and from that time forward never played for a piece. It came to pass, that seven years after, my husband being in Huntingdonshire, at a bowling-green, with Sir Capel Bedells, and many other persons of quality, one in the company was called Captain Taller. My husband, who had a very quick and piercing eye, marked him much, as knowing his face, and found, through his peruke wig, and scarlet cloak and buff suit, that his name was neither Captain nor Taller, but the honest Jesuit called Friar Sherwood, that had cheated him of the greatest part of his money, and after had lent him the five pieces; so your father went to him, and gave him his five pieces, and said, 'Father Sherwood, I know you, and you know this:' at which he was extremely surprised, and begged of your father not to discover him, for his life was in danger. After a year's stay in Paris, he travelled to Madrid in Spain, there to learn that language; at the same time, for that purpose, went the late Earl of Caernarvon, and my Lord of Bedford, and Sir John Berkeley, and several other gentlemen. Afterwards, having spent some years abroad, he returned to London, and gave so good an account of his travels, that he was about the year 1630 made Secretary of the Embassy, when my Lord Aston went Ambassador. During your father's travels, he had spent a considerable part of his stock, which his father and mother left him: in those days, where there were so many younger children, it was inconsiderable, being 50 pounds a year, and 1,500 pounds in money. Upon the return of the ambassador, your father was left resident until Sir Arthur Hopton went Ambassador, and then he came home about the year 1637 or 1638; and I must tell you here of an accident your father had coming out of Spain in this journey post: he going into a bed for some few hours to refresh himself, in a village five leagues from Madrid, he slept so soundly, that notwithstanding the house was on fire, and all the people of the village there, he never waked; but the honesty of the owners was such, that they carried him, and set him asleep upon a piece of timber on the highway; and there he awaked, and found his portmanteau and clothes by him, without the least loss, which is extraordinary, considering the profession of his landlord, who had at that time his house burnt to the ground. After being here a year or two, and no preferment coming, Secretary Windebank calling him Puritan, being his enemy, because himself was a Papist, he was, by his elder brother, put into the place of the King's Remembrancer, absolutely, with this proviso, that he should be accountable for the use of the income; but if in seven years he would pay 8,000 pounds for it to his brother, then it should be his, with the whole revenue of it; but the war breaking out presently after, put an end to this design; for, being the King's sworn servant, he went to the King at Oxford, as well as his fellows, to avoid the fury of this madness of the people, where, having been almost a year, we married, as I said before; and I will continue my discourse where we left.

Now we appear on the stage, to act what part God designed us; and as faith is the evidence of things not seen, so we, upon so righteous a cause, cheerfully resolved to suffer what that would drive us to, which afflictions were neither few nor small, as you will find. This year the Prince had an established Council, which were the Earl of Berkshire, Earl of Bradford, Lord Capel, Lord Colepeper, Lord Hopton, and Sir Edward Hyde, Chancellor of the Exchequer. My husband was then, as I said, newly entered into his office of secretary of the Council of War, and the King would have had him then to have been sworn his Highness's Secretary, but the Queen, who was then no friend to my husband, because he had formerly made Secretary Windebank appear in his colours, who was one of her Majesty's favourites, wholly obstructed that then, and placed with the Prince Sir Robert Long, for whom she had a great kindness; but the consequence will show the man.

It was in May 1645, the first time I went out of my chamber and to church, where, after service, Sir William Parkhurst, a very honest gentleman, came to me, and said he had a letter for me from your father and fifty pieces of gold, and was coming to bring them to me. I opened first my letter, and read those inexpressible joys that almost overcame me, for he told me I should the Thursday following come to him, and to that purpose he had sent me that money, and would send two of his men with horses, and all accommodation both for myself, my father, and sister, and that Lady Capell and Lady Bradford would meet me on the way; but that gold your father sent me when I was ready to perish, did not so much revive me as his summons. I went immediately to walk, or at least to sit in the air, being very weak, in the garden of St. John's College, and there, with my good father, communicated my joy, who took great pleasure to hear of my husband's good success and likewise of his journey to him. We, all of my household being present, heard drums beat in the highway, under the garden wall. My father asked me if I would go up upon the mount to see the soldiers march, for it was Sir Charles Lee's company of foot, an acquaintance of ours; I said yes, and went up, leaning my back to a tree that grew on the mount. The commander seeing us there, in compliment gave us a volley of shot, and one of their muskets being loaded, shot a brace of bullets not two inches above my head as I leaned to the tree, for which mercy and deliverance I praise God. And next week we were all on our journey for Bristol very merry, and thought that now all things would mend, and the worst of my misfortunes past, but little thought I to leap into the sea that would toss me until it had racked me; but we were to ride all night by agreement, for fear of the enemy surprising us as they passed, they quartering in the way. About nightfall having travelled about twenty miles, we discovered a troop of horse coming towards us, which proved to be Sir Marmaduke Rawdon, a worthy commander and my countryman: he told me, that hearing I was to pass by his garrison, he was come out to conduct me, he hoped as far as was danger, which was about twelve miles: with many thanks we parted, and having refreshed ourselves and horses, we set forth for Bristol, where we arrived on the 2Oth of May.

My husband had provided very good lodgings for us, and as soon as he could come home from the Council, where he was at my arrival, he with all expressions of joy received me in his arms, and gave me a hundred pieces of gold, saying, "I know thou that keeps my heart so well, will keep my fortune, which from this time I will ever put into thy hands as God shall bless me with increase." And now I thought myself 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 Lady Rivers, a brave woman, and one that had suffered many thousand pounds loss for the King, and whom I had a great reverence for, and she a kindness 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 understanding thereof, as my Lady Aubigny, Lady Isabel Thynne, and divers others, and yet none was at first more capable than I; that in the night she knew there came a post from Paris from the Queen, and that she would be extremely glad to hear what the Queen commanded the King in order to his affairs; saying, if I would ask my husband privately, he would tell me what he found in the packet, and I might tell her. I that was young and innocent, and to that day had 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 Council, after welcoming him, as his custom ever was he went with his handful of papers into his study for an hour or more; I followed him; he turned hastily, and said, "What wouldst thou have, my life?" I told him, I had heard the Prince had received a packet from the Queen, and I guessed it was that in his hand, and I desired to know what was in it; he smilingly replied, "My love, 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 sat by me, and drank often to me, which was his custom, and was full of discourse to company that was at table. Going to bed I asked again, and said I could not believe he loved me if he refused to tell me all he knew; but he answered nothing, but stopped my mouth with kisses. So we went to bed, I cried, 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, came on the other side of the bed and kissed me, and drew the curtains softly and went to Court. When he came home to dinner, he presently came to me as was usual, and when I had him by the hand, I said, 'Thou dost not care to see me troubled'; to which he taking me in his arms, answered, 'My dearest soul, nothing upon earth can afflict me like that, and when you asked me of my business, it was wholly out of my power to satisfy thee, for my life and fortune shall be thine, and every thought of my heart in which the trust I am in may not be revealed, but my honour is my own, which I cannot preserve if I communicate the Prince's affairs; and pray thee with this answer rest satisfied.' So great was his reason and goodness, that upon consideration it made my folly appear to me so vile, that from that day until the day of his death I never thought fit to ask him any business but what he communicated freely to me in order to his estate or family. My husband grew much in the Prince's favour; and Mr. Long not being suffered to execute the business of his place, as the Council suspected that he held private intelligence with the Earl of Essex, which when he perceived he went into the enemy's quarters, and so to London, and then into France, full of complaints of the Prince's Council to the Queen-Mother, and when he was gone your father supplied his place.

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