As time passed on, and all hope of peace between the Royalists and the Parliamentarians seemed lost, Lord Falkland, to whom his King and countrymen were alike dear, became a prey to profound melancholy.
That worst of all misfortunes, a civil war, affected him deeply; all his efforts at pacification were ineffectual; he would sit often silent when in company, for a long time, and then break forth in shrill accents—‘Peace! peace! peace!’
Pale, dejected, negligent of his dress, of which in former days he had been proverbially careful, he passed sleepless nights, and often said his heart was breaking. In battle he exposed himself to so much danger, that a friend expostulated with him, upon which he replied, among other reasons, that it behoved him to be more hazardous than others, lest any one should say that his desire for peace proceeded from pusillanimity.
On the morning of the battle of Newbury ‘he appeared more cheerful, put on a clean shirt in case he should be killed, and said he was weary of the times, and did think he would be out of it, before night.’
On the 20th of September 1643, in the front rank of Lord Byron’s regiment, Lucius Carey, Viscount Falkland, fell from his horse, pierced by a musket-ball. His body was not found till next morning. Thus, at the early age of thirty-four years, died one of the most remarkable men of his age and country. A true patriot, a loyal and attached subject, learned, witty, wise, honourable, and of so gentle and winning a disposition, that all men could not choose but love him; a soldier, a scholar, deeply attached to the Protestant faith, he withstood all the endeavours of his mother, a strict Roman Catholic, and a woman of great power of mind, to gain him over to her way of thinking.
He was very studious, and used to say he pitied ‘unlearned gentlemen on a rainy day.’ ‘Lord Falkland had dark hair and black eyes, in stature low, and of no great strength.’
No. 6.
THE LORD KEEPER COVENTRY.
In robes of office.